“I’m not sure that’ll be necessary. We can likely work around it and it would still turn out just fine,” he suggested.
“Just fine will not win the title of the Backyard and Beyond Best. That’s the goal here, Cole, to win this year’s competition. It’s vital we do anything in our power to make sure that happens. We have some space along the north side of the house that the farmer can use. Our contract doesn’t specify which portion of land she gets to work, just the overall size she can utilize. Anyway, I don’t plan to renew her lease after this year, so it’s really a moot point.”
Something about the turn in their conversation didn’t sit well with Cole, but he had been hired to do a job, and he had every intention of making sure it resulted in a happy client, and an even happier boss. This was his chance to prove to his father that the firm would be in good and capable hands once his dad’s retirement rolled around.
“I saw the original sketches you sent over, Cole, and I know you’re the man for the job. I’d love if you would spend some time over these next few days just expanding on those original drawings,” Kelly said. “I’ll give you the code to the back gate this time so you can come and go as you please. Feel free to spend as much time out here as you need. Then let’s plan to reconnect early next week to see what you’ve come up with. Does all of that sound good to you?”
“Absolutely. Sounds like a great plan. Thank you for entrusting this space to me, Kelly. I won’t let you down.”
* * *
COLE PULLED HIS glasses from his face and settled them onto the tabletop. He rubbed vigorously at his eyes, pushing his fists into them and twisting there until he saw stars behind his eyelids. Staring at a computer screen for hours on end wasn’t doing his already poor vision any favors, but it went with the territory.
He’d arrived at his short-term rental home just after sundown and quickly set up his laptop at the kitchen table, plugging it into the wall so he could begin. He had so many ideas floating around in his head regarding the McAllister project and he knew he needed to get them down on paper. Earlier that day, Kelly had sent over a plot map with the property dimensions and lines, which gave him the necessary information he needed. After a quick phone call to his dad just to make sure everything was a go, he set to work.
Cole had been at it for three hours when his stomach rumbled audibly. Once again, he’d worked straight through dinner. He didn’t have plans to visit the car rental company until the next day, so instead he pulled up a web browser tab to order pizza delivery. It would have to be a night in. Rather than go with a chain, Cole opted to do a bit of research to find out which joints the locals preferred. After all, he had plans to stay in Fairvale for the next two months. While that wasn’t enough time to become an actual resident, it was surely enough time to become deeply immersed in the town’s culture.
Googling the Fairvale Chamber of Commerce, Cole clicked on the dining icon at the top of the page. There were several restaurants listed: Mexican, sushi, and a steakhouse called Buckeye Billy’s. Scrolling down, Cole found the number for Ziggy’s Zesty Pizza and picked up his cell phone to place an order for a medium Hawaiian. He knew he was in the minority, but he just couldn’t resist fruit on his pizza. It reminded him of the last time they’d vacationed as a family in Maui—the final trip his older brother, Caleb, would ever go on.
It must’ve been a slow night in Fairvale, because it wasn’t even twenty-five minutes later when the pizza delivery guy rapped on the door, his knock a loud percussion against the wood. Cole tipped him generously. He knew how hard it was to make an honest paycheck as a teenager. He’d always been lucky enough to work for his father, but something about that never felt as honest as it should. In a way, he envied the delivery kid with his go-getter attitude and the way he earned his own money without it being handed to him by a family member.
Cole was determined to earn his paycheck for the McAllister project. He would devote himself completely to its success over the next couple of months, and they would come out with a win. That was the only option.
Pulling a steaming slice of pizza from the cardboard box, Cole took a bite, savoring both it and the needed break from hunkered down work. His shoulders ached and he rolled them to work out the kinks of knotted muscle. He hadn’t always been so tense, but he couldn’t quite maintain the peace of his younger years when he didn’t have the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. It wasn’t as though he was old by any means—he’d only recently celebrated his thirtieth birthday—but with each passing year, he felt the increasing pressure of performance, this invisible weight that left him with a tightness he had to work hard to loosen.
With half the pizza gone, Cole felt instantly better, but he hadn’t gained the energy he’d hoped to from the meal. Rather, he felt that lazy food coma settling in. He squinted at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. It was nearing ten o’clock, and with the three-hour time difference, his body thought it was the next day already. If he were wise, he’d shut his laptop and call it a night. But he wasn’t wise, and it certainly wasn’t wise to pull up the chamber website again, because when he clicked on the Upcoming Events tab, he saw Sophie Potters’ grin smiling back at him through the computer screen.
His breath caught.
Reading the copy on the page, his mouth flipped into a grimace, unable to match that jovial smile that radiated from her photograph.
“Local flower farmer begins her fifth growing season and second year in charge of the Fairvale Farmers’ Market,” Cole read aloud. He scanned the article, but words like rented plot of land and living her dream and flower farming phenomenon jumped off the screen like a slap against his face.
Why hadn’t she told him that the land was hers when she’d dropped him off at the McAllister’s the day before? She had been so quick to speed away, practically dumping him at the gate. The gate he didn’t even have the actual entry code to. Surely she’d had that code and would’ve been able to share that information with him, but for some reason, she chose to withhold it.
The strained interaction at the coffee shop suddenly made more sense. Sure, Cole didn’t know Sophie all that well, but her curt tone had taken him aback. It was forced and unnatural. Now he saw it as her way of not only protecting herself, but her farm—and he didn’t blame her one bit for it.
But the lawyer. That was an interesting component. Cole didn’t figure he’d be the one wrapped up in any legal issues, necessarily. Those would likely take place between the McAllisters and Sophie. Still, the thought of a backyard design contest turning into something that required a judge and jury seemed downright ridiculous.
Exiting out of the browser, Cole snapped his laptop shut. He wished he hadn’t discovered this information about the land and the farm, although he knew it was only a matter of time before it came to light. It was obvious that Sophie was trying to avoid him, but she wouldn’t be able to continue once they were working the same plot of land, side by side. She’d have to play nice; it was the only reasonable option.
5
Sophie
THE SOIL WAS cold against Sophie’s fingers. She had pushed the top layers of earth warmed by the morning sun aside and into a mound by her feet. She had accidently left her gardening gloves in the truck, but she was so eager to get her second succession of bachelor’s buttons into the ground that she’d decided to make do without them. She actually didn’t mind the dirt under her nails. It was the mark of a great morning, akin to a baker’s apron dusted with flour after a productive day in the kitchen.
As she had hoped, the seeds Sophie had sown before her Seattle trip had already burst through the surface, their green shoots reaching skyward like the satisfying morning stretch that accompanied a good yawn. This was such a precious time in the garden, the beginnings of great things. It felt like a slow and steady warm up. Then—almost all at once—her plants would bloom, patches of flowers bursting in celebration among the rows like popped corn over a fire.
During her first fe
w years, she’d grown impatient with the waiting, the abundance of summer impossibly far off. But Sophie had learned that worthwhile things took time. These little plants taught her a lesson in patience that no textbook ever could, and she loved that the land had the ability to shape and mold her character along with offering her a source of income and purpose.
After she finished that morning’s seeding, Sophie walked the rows. She noted in her journal the many small buds forming on the plants she placed into the ground after the last frost. Within days, these buttoned-up buds would unfurl, their petals gracefully falling open like a woman letting down her hair. Then Sophie would no longer be alone among the flowers. The hummingbirds and the bees would flit about, buzzing around her like musical notes in the air. She loved that the blossoming of a flower was like an invitation, summoning these friends back into her garden to share in summer’s bounty.
Already, the anger Sophie had let take root began to slip away. When it came down to it, she wasn’t sure who to be angry with, exactly, but Cole had presented himself at just the right time to endure the brunt of it. She knew that wasn’t fair. He’d probably been hired for this position by the McAllisters. He wasn’t the one forcing her off the land. In fact, up to that point, no one had told her she had to go anywhere. No one had even made mention of Sophie or her flowers. Not to her face, at least. She figured there was hushed talk that she was unaware of, but until someone brought their plans for that space to her attention, Sophie would continue to farm.
Slipping her earbuds into her ears, she cranked up her favorite gardening playlist. Even though she’d set up drip irrigation, several of her newly planted rows required overhead watering. Once they sprouted, she’d switch to underground, so as to avoid pesky problems like powdery mildew which could threaten to wipe out her entire crop. Grabbing the hose at the end of a row, she uncoiled it and bent down to twist the lever on. Water shot out of the spout with the force of a pressure washer. Somehow, that dial always got switched. Clicking it counterclockwise, Sophie adjusted the spray to a light mist and swept the hose over the rows, back and forth.
The monotonous motions ushered in the calm she so craved. It was like meditation: restful and restoring. She had almost finished watering all of the garden when the flow suddenly cut off. Turning around, Sophie noticed the tangled hose with a kink in the line. She whipped it up and down like a jump rope, but the stubborn knot stayed.
Sophie tugged one earbud from her ear and when she heard voices several yards away, she instantly jumped. She’d been so wrapped up in her own little world of flowers and melody, she hadn’t noticed Kelly McAllister and Cole’s presence in the yard.
It was clear that Cole, on the other hand, had been completely aware of Sophie. When their eyes connected, the smile he flashed looked like one he’d been saving just for her, like it was a relief to finally offer it her way.
Sophie made herself grin back.
That only lifted Cole’s smile even higher onto his cheeks, and it forced those dimples deeper.
It annoyed Sophie that he had such a fantastic smile. It was much easier to dislike someone who didn’t look so amazing simply being happy.
Still grinning, Cole shot his hand into the air in an elated wave.
Sophie waved back, but there was no enthusiasm in the exchange on her end. She shoved the earbud back into her ear and blasted her music even louder as she uncoiled the hose and continued watering.
Like the day before, she could sense Cole’s presence without even turning around to confirm his nearness. She had watched Kelly retreat into the house earlier. Cole had stayed out in the backyard with his sketchpad, furiously running his pencil over the pages, his gaze alternating between the landscape and the notes in his hand. It struck Sophie that he was just as much in his element as she was, and that thought had her feeling a pang of guilt. Maybe he wasn’t the bad guy she’d created him to be. After all, he was just doing his job.
“Hey, Soph.” Cole’s greeting was muted, the rush of water from the hose and the tunes echoing in her ears muffling his voice. “Hey there, Soph!” he said again, this time a near shout.
Pretending to ignore him was no longer an option. Sighing, she pulled out her headphones and shoved them into the kangaroo pouch of her sweatshirt containing her cell phone and keys.
“Soph-ie,” she emphasized.
“Sophie,” Cole corrected. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Is it though?” Sophie asked. She wore her skepticism on her face in squinted eyes and tight lips.
Cole looked over his shoulder, surveying the grounds. “No, you’re right. It’s not fancy at all. It’s quite dirty, actually. And I now see just what you mean about the whole compost in your hair thing.” He lifted a hand toward Sophie’s brow, about to brush the dirt from her bangs, but halted when she recoiled. “Sorry.”
That he had to apologize made Sophie hot with guilt. “It’s fine.” She swatted at her hair with her own hand. “So. You’re the landscape architect, huh?”
“No one’s ever called me the landscape architect before. I like the sound of it.”
“I wasn’t intending for it to be a compliment,” she retorted. She shut off and dropped the hose to the ground, then placed her hands into her sweatshirt pocket. “I meant you’re the landscape architect who’s about to force an end to my barely begun flower season.”
Cole’s brow drew together behind his glasses. “I don’t see any reason for that, Sophie. I think we can both achieve our goals here.”
“And tell me exactly what your goal is.”
“To win the Backyard and Beyond contest. I think you know that.”
“And at what cost?”
“I’m not exactly sure what it will cost the McAllisters yet. I’m still running those numbers.”
Sophie’s eyes rolled. “You know I’m not talking about the monetary cost, Cole. At what cost to me and my portion of the farm?”
She noticed Cole’s swallow, how his Adam’s apple strained in his neck.
“Like I said, I think we can all achieve our goals here,” he spoke again, revealing nothing. “Listen, why don’t you let me take you out for a cup of coffee and we can discuss things a bit more? I’d love to show you some of my drawings.”
“I’m not interested in your drawings.”
“Okay.” Undeterred, Cole pressed on. “Then maybe we could just chat about your flowers. Kelly said it’s a cut flower garden. I didn’t realize all flowers weren’t considered cut flowers.”
“They’re specific flowers used for bouquets. Ones that grow long stems,” Sophie corrected.
“Gotcha. Which varieties?”
“Do you honestly care, Cole?” she spat. “Because I’ve got a lot of work to do here, and I don’t really have time to shoot the breeze with you right now.”
Cole dipped his head to search out her eyes. “But you’ll have time later?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“Like around, say, 5:30?”
“That’s dinnertime.”
“Great! I eat dinner, too. Let’s kill two birds with one stone and eat our dinners together.”
He wasn’t giving up, and his persistence would be infuriating if not for the low flutter in her stomach that caught Sophie off guard each time Cole parted his lips to speak. It did something to her that made her feel like a silly schoolgirl again and she didn’t know how to get rid of the unwanted sensation.
“Come on,” he tried once more, nudging her with his elbow. “You have to eat. Why not do that with me?”
Sophie began forming a short list of the reasons why she didn’t want to have dinner with Cole, but he stood there smiling expectantly and she couldn’t force the rejection into words.
“Fine.”
“Not as enthusiastic an acceptance as I had hoped for, but I’ll take it.” Cole beamed and tucked his notepad under his arm and pencil behind his ear. “When can I pick you up? 5:15?”
Sophie shook her head. “No, I’ll meet you.
There’s an Italian place on Main. Aromatizzare. I can’t be there until 6:00, though.”
“That’ll be great,” Cole said, but Sophie noticed the slight disappointment her words elicited. “You sure I can’t give you a ride? You know, you’ve given me one before and I finally have my own rental car. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”
“I don’t need any favors, Cole. Just food, which I’ll be paying for on my own.” She forced the point home so no aspect of their evening could be construed as a date. “We can talk about your plans for the contest then.”
“Can we talk about more than that?”
“We’ll see,” was all she offered.
* * *
“HOW DOES THIS look?”
“Gorgeous!” Caroline blurted. She slurped another mouthful of ice cream from her spoon. With her legs tucked up underneath her, Caroline practically bounced on Sophie’s bed.
“Gorgeous?” Sophie groaned. “That won’t work.” Retreating to her closet, Sophie tugged off the simple black dress and tossed it to the floor on top of the pile of garments that Caroline had declared as either “stunning” or “spectacular.”
Sophie pulled a black and white checkered blouse from its hanger and slipped her arms into it, intentionally buttoning up the front one button higher than she normally would. Taking a pair of dark denim jeans from the shelf, she yanked them on. She chose to finish off the look with a low, black heel. Not too formal, but not her typical gardening attire.
She took in her reflection in the full-length mirror and hoped this particular ensemble would suffice.
“Am I missing something here?” Caroline hollered from the bedroom. “Don’t you want to look gorgeous? I mean, as far as I’m aware, it’s a compliment, not an insult.”
In the Market for Love Page 4