In the Weeds (Lovelight #2)(72)

“These are beautiful,” Evelyn fluffs some baby’s breath near the top of the arch and drags a fingertip over the petal of a pale pink peony, the bloom still clustered tight. Standing on the step stool, her ass is right above my face. I could bite at the top of her thigh if I wanted to. She turns and looks down at me, a sly smile curving her lips up. I don’t bother looking away from her ass.

I reach out a hand and help her down. “They are.”

Mabel is incredible at what she does. Her floral business has been slowly expanding over the past couple of years and this might be her biggest wedding yet. I look at all the arrangements spread out over the greenhouse, Gus standing by the door with what looks like five bouquets balanced in his massive hands, a patient look on his kind face as Mabel talks animatedly in front of him. He nods and jerks his head out front to where the ambulance is waiting, back doors propped open.

“I think Gus is trying to drop off flowers at a wedding in an ambulance.”

Evelyn hops off the last step of the stool but doesn’t drop my hand. I squeeze her fingers with mine, a tiny, white bloom stuck to her pinky.

“He might need the ambulance in a second.”

I laugh and Evelyn glances up at me, a wide smile on her pretty face. I forget that we’re in the middle of town in a crowded greenhouse. I forget that Cindy Croswell is standing three feet behind us, sneaking a peek through a bundle of eucalyptus.

All I know is that I want to kiss Evelyn while she has jasmine caught in her hair and I’ve got this feeling in my chest. Like someone kicked me out of an airplane. Total free fall. No parachute.

So I do.

I cup my hand around the back of her neck and tug her into me, a soft oh pressed against my mouth and her hands flat against my chest. I keep it chaste and easy, a gentle brush back and forth. A quick nip at her bottom lip. Her hands curl into fists as she sways into me, a light admonishment with the rap of her knuckles against my collarbone.

“Everyone can see,” she whispers against my mouth, not moving an inch. The sound is muted by the foam in my ears, but I can hear her all the same. I can also hear Cindy Croswell drop everything she’s holding right behind us and go rushing towards the supply closet where Becky Gardener disappeared ten minutes ago.

I bump my nose against hers. “I don’t care.”

Her smile widens into a grin, her brown eyes shining. This close, I can see flecks of gold in them. She thumbs at my jaw. “Those earplugs made you bold, farmer boy.”

I shrug and lean back, carding my hand through the length of her hair. For once, I don’t mind the attention. I’m not going to lose a moment with Evelyn just because someone might be watching. Though there is a lot of whispering going on all of a sudden, furtive glances in between ceramic vases and rose gold twinkle lights.

“Ah,” I see her point now. Gus and Mabel have abandoned their argument on the sidewalk and are standing with their faces pressed against the window. I wince. Everything in the greenhouse has come to a comical standstill. The whispers start like a hornet’s nest a second later. “Alright, well. Can’t take it back now.”

“Do you want to?” I look back down at her, the way her smile is slipping from her lips. “Take it back?”

I shake my head. I really don’t. I want everyone in this nosy-ass town to know. I’m half-tempted to dig my cell out of my back pocket and ring up the phone tree.

Relieved, Evie takes my hand and squeezes. “Good. Because I think we just went the Inglewild version of viral.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN





EVELYN





My brand new phone rings on the arm of the chair as I sit on the back porch of Beckett’s cabin, a mug of tea in my hands and my feet propped up on the railing. It’s an unfamiliar number, but I recognize the area code.

I tap answer as I watch Beckett cross back and forth through the thick glass windows of his little greenhouse, bending at the waist with a watering can held loosely in his fist. I don’t know how anyone got this number. I asked Josie for a new one when she ordered me a replacement phone.

“Hello?”

“Inglewild phone tree calling,” a vaguely familiar voice chirps out on the other end of the phone. “Beckett and Evelyn were seen making out in the corner of Mabel’s today. Pretty sure he would have thrown her to the ground if no one had been around.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and glance at the screen. That is a—creative interpretation of the sweet but lingering kiss Beckett gave me beneath the flower arch.

“Kelly? Is that you?”

I’m pretty sure Kelly wasn’t even in the greenhouse earlier today. There’s a pause and then her loud and boisterous laugh dances over the line. I can always tell when the salon door is open when I’m walking through town. I can hear Kelly’s laugh from a mile away.

“Oh, goodness. What are the odds?” Her laughter tapers off. “I guess you’re officially a local now … if you’ve been added to the phone tree.”

“I guess so.” The thought makes me grin. I still have questions about how they got this number, though. My dad doesn’t even have it yet. “We weren’t making out.”

“Oh, honey. That’s a shame.” She tuts once. “You should always be making out with that man.”