Cole’s bright eyes locked with hers, their close proximity making his gaze all the more intense. She could feel his stare in every single one of her senses. “What do I think? Or what am I thinking? Because they’re two entirely different things.”
Sophie swallowed around the lump in her throat. “What are you thinking?” she murmured.
“I’m wracking my brain, trying to make a list of all of the other things I’m terrible at so you can teach me how to do those, too,” he said, one eyebrow quirked up and his mouth edging into a mischievous grin.
Sophie blew out her trapped breath. She swiped at her bangs nervously and rocked back on her heels. “Okay, now you give it a shot all by yourself.”
It didn’t appear that chopstick proficiency was anything Cole would be adding to his résumé anytime soon, but he did give it a valiant effort. Sophie watched him struggle for a solid ten minutes before she reluctantly headed to the kitchen to retrieve a fork. It didn’t seem fair that she was the only one enjoying their food so far.
“No way.” He shook her off when she extended the offering. “You said I had to use chopsticks to get the full experience. I want the full experience.” Taking just one stick, he stabbed at a piece of raw salmon draped over a clump of rice and then popped it into his mouth. He beamed a huge, closed-lip smile. “Delicious!”
“I know, right?” Sophie responded enthusiastically. She was so pleased that he liked it.
“No.” Taking a napkin, Cole covered his mouth and spit into it. “I’m sorry, Soph, but that’s totally disgusting.”
“Maybe raw isn’t the best first choice.” She scanned the smorgasbord of food before them. “You have to start with something pretty harmless, like the California roll.”
“By calling that one harmless, you are implying the others are harmful. Why would I want to eat something that can harm me? No thank you, very much.”
Sophie swatted at his chest and startled when Cole reached out and caught her hand. His dimples sunk into his cheeks with a massive grin. For a fleeting moment, he held her hand in his before releasing it.
“Okay,” Cole said on a breath, “so the California roll is harmless. What else?”
Sophie’s words took longer to form than usual, her stuttering brain misfiring all over the place. “The Fairvale’s a good choice. Just deep fried shrimp, rice, and avocado.”
Cole tilted his head and looked sideways at the roll in question. “What are all of those little orange thingies on top?”
“Tabiko.”
He used his single chopstick to harpoon a slice of the roll and brought it up to eye level in examination. “Ta-bi-ko,” Cole repeated, then it disappeared into his mouth in one large bite.
Sophie smirked. “Fish eggs.”
Cole didn’t even wait for the napkin this time before spitting out the contents of his mouth. “Seriously? How could you lead me so far astray?” He wiped his lips vigorously, then stuck out his tongue to swipe a napkin across it, too.
“You’re being just a touch dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Dramatic is not the word I would use. Adventurous. Spontaneous. Thrill-seeking. Those are all fitting descriptors.”
“And what word would you use to describe your first sushi experience in general?” Sophie asked, enjoying their easy banter.
“I’d break it down into categories.” Cole lifted a finger, ticking them off one by one. “The ambiance: clean and comfortable. The food: questionable. The company: pr—”
“Priceless,” Sophie interrupted gleefully.
“I was about to say presumptuous, but okay.” He recoiled as he spoke the words, anticipating the blow she dealt to his shoulder. “But in all seriousness, we should do this again. Next time, let’s actually cook our food.”
“I think next time my mom is the one doing the cooking. Hate to break it to you, Cole, but you’ll be wishing for sushi at that point. Even tobiko.”
8
Cole
CALIFORNIA MORNINGS QUICKLY became Cole’s favorite time of day. The chattering of squirrels racing around a tree, a chase that swirled up the trunk like the coiled pattern of a barbershop pole, stood in such stark contrast to his usual view back at his father’s Nashville office. Buildings rather than trees surrounded their workplace, like a forest forged from concrete. Sure, it only took a short drive to the countryside where he could take in a similar scene, but Cole’s roots were in the city, even if they were in the form of cement footings and foundation.
At times it seemed strange that a firm responsible for creating landscapes would be located in the middle of the city, but every business needed a home base and Nashville was the ideal spot. Plus, it served as a great central location, with most of their clients just a short drive from town in either direction.
But in California, Cole had unofficially made Heirloom Coffee his office, mostly for the large outdoor seating offered to its customers. He loved the expansive teak decking that wrapped around a looming Heritage oak, like the tree was a purposeful part of the design and not just an element to work around. He greatly admired the intentionality of it.
For the past several mornings, Cole would order his iced Americano and banana bran muffin, and then spend the next few hours on the patio with his laptop open, the McAllister design pulled up on the computer screen. He’d not-so-accidently drop a few crumbs for his squirrel and bird friends to enjoy, all while basking under the invitingly warm California sun.
While he was doing just that, his phone buzzed across the table, rattling on the metal surface. He flipped it over and his stomach did a similar flip when he saw the caller ID. Cole swiped his thumb across the screen.
“Morning, Dad,” he said. His throat felt tight with a lump he couldn’t swallow.
“Hello, Cole,” Martin answered. “I just thought I’d see how things were going with the project.” His dad’s voice was gruff and authoritative and it bothered Cole how easily it intimidated him. It always had. “I told the McAllisters I’d check in with you periodically—you know, just to be sure things are staying the course.”
“All is well, Dad. In fact, I’ve got an interview in a few minutes, so I probably shouldn’t be on the phone when he gets here. Mind if I call you back a little later?”
This particular morning, Cole had an interview planned with a potential landscape contractor for the project. While Cole was certified on the design end of things, he was rarely the one to do the actual labor. It was usually better that way because while he had a strong eye for design, delegation and execution weren’t his specialty. The creative process was his wheelhouse. He could almost effortlessly visualize things that weren’t there, bring into existence something that had yet to be imagined. But running and managing a crew of workers? He wouldn’t even know where to start. He definitely needed a partner in that area.
“Who are you interviewing?”
“Just a possible contractor to help me run things at the property.”
The notable pause in conversation let Cole know exactly how his father felt about that. “Help you run things? Or run things? There’s a difference, Cole, and while I know you excel at design, you really need to analyze whether or not you are the best fit to be a part of the labor side of things.”
Cole knew he wanted a bigger hand in the installation this go round. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Sophie would be working the same land that ignited this desire to see this design through, start to finish, or if the contest had him feeling the pressure to be more intricately involved. More than likely, it was the hard-won approval of his father that was the real driving force. And comments like his father’s previous one only made him more determined.
“Listen, Dad, I really should go. Things are great here. You can pass that along to the McAllisters. Talk to you later.”
Without meaning to, Cole clicked to hang up before his father uttered his goodbye. He thought about calling back, but they didn’t have that type of relationship, one where they admitted their
wrongs or offered apologies.
Cole knew he wasn’t the favorite child, and he was okay with that. It was a reality he’d settled up with way back in his youth when he’d chosen sports over education. Though his father never verbally indicated his disappointment, the fact that Martin had directed every conversation involving the future of the family business to Cole’s older brother, Caleb, more than hinted at the fact that he had placed all his work hopes and dreams upon his eldest son’s shoulders.
When Caleb died unexpectedly in an accident on a family vacation, their father nearly collapsed under the weight of grief. He didn’t say it at the time, but Cole knew his dad also experienced anxiety over Blankenship Backyard Design’s future.
It was then that Cole knew he had to take an extreme turn on his own life path. He rejected his full ride, out-of-state football scholarship and instead enrolled in a local college so he could stay closer to home and learn under his father’s tutelage. Even still, he never felt like second best. Cole and Caleb were vastly different people, any sort of real comparison difficult to come by. Not that Martin favored Caleb for any envious reasons. It was merely the fact that the father and son had similar minds and interests, and as a result, spent much more time at the office together.
Cole knew with time his father would be able to shift those business dreams over. He just had to prove himself. Making sure Cole had the right team in place for the McAllister project was the first step, and after ten minutes into his meeting with Tanner Lightly, Cole knew he’d found his man. Tanner was young, likely fresh out of college, and had that eager hunger evident in his eyes and speech. The entire time Cole showed Tanner his initial 3-D renderings, Tanner’s head remained in a constant nod of agreement, like a bobble head upon his shoulders.
“That pergola,” Tanner said, pointing to the image pulled up on the screen, “I managed a crew of guys that built one almost identical to it last fall. Not too far from here, actually—maybe five miles or so up the road if you’d like to check it out.”
“Definitely. That would be awesome,” Cole replied, grateful for the suggestion. “I’m a little worried with the size of the structure that the boards might start to warp and twist if we keep them the length I drew them.”
“That’s not a problem at all. We can brace it here and here.” Tanner drew two imaginary loops with his finger on the computer screen. “And if the homeowners are open to it, we can use manufactured rather than real wood. That might help with the potential warping issues.”
“They might be open to it, but honestly, I’d really like to keep all elements as natural as we can. My main objective with this particular design is to give it a rustic, earthy feel. I want raw woods, natural stones, native plants.”
Tanner continued with his encouraging nod. “There’s a great nursery here in town that has an entire section devoted to California horticulture. It’s my go-to plant store for all of my local projects. We could swing by this afternoon if you’ve got time.” Tanner caught himself. “That is, if you think I’m the right man for the job.”
“Tanner, I think you might be an even better fit for this job than I am.”
“Not a chance.” Tanner threw back a swallow from his coffee cup and placed it back onto the table between them. “I have absolutely no clue how to design any of this, much less use the computer programs necessary to create something on this scale. I can swing a hammer and dig a hole and rally a crew, but I need someone else to provide the inspiration.”
Cole beamed, feeling confident that this first interview would be the only one necessary. It baffled him how everything in Fairvale had so easily clicked into place.
“I think we’ll make the perfect team.” He shot his hand out for a shake. “Welcome aboard, Tanner.”
* * *
SOPHIE PULLED INTO the parking space directly next to Cole, but hadn’t realized it yet. Cole stole that opportunity to admire her while she got out a compact from her purse and regarded her reflection, rubbing her lips together like she’d just applied gloss to them. Cole couldn’t help but find it endearing. In reality, there was no need for any of it. Sophie looked flawless to him in the way that true, natural beauty needed no enhancement.
Lightly tapping his horn, he drew her attention. She jumped, then flashed a wide, toothy grin when she saw Cole seated in the car beside her. Cole unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out from his vehicle.
“Long time, no see,” Sophie teased as she hopped down from her truck and rounded it to greet Cole. For a brief moment, she halted, as though unsure how they should greet one another. Cole got it. He didn’t know how to, either. It had only been a few days, but they were past the formal handshake portion of their relationship. Even still, he felt wrong in assuming she’d be okay with a hug, so instead he did the whole awkward side-hug thing like he was still in junior high. Sophie stammered in her steps, but leaned into Cole’s side, her hand hooked up on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet us out here, Sophie. I thought it might be good to have your eye when selecting our plants for the project. I’d love to pick out ones that will compliment your garden to make sure it all really flows. That’s the ultimate goal here: to make it one seamless landscape.”
“I appreciate that. I think the main thing we need to keep in mind is that my garden is ever changing—the sizes of the plants, the colors, the overall amount depending on harvest times and such. For the backyard, you might want to focus on slow-growing shrubbery that will maintain the consistency that my flower field lacks.”
If talking about plants could be a turn on, this conversation was just that for Cole. He chuckled to himself.
“What?” Sophie’s brow furrowed. “Did I say something funny?”
“No.” Cole shook his head, grinning. “It’s just that you totally get it. It’s beyond refreshing.”
A car door slammed near them and Cole swung his gaze toward the direction of the sound. It was Tanner, exiting a shiny, black SUV and crossing the lot to come over to them, a notebook tucked under his arm and aviator glasses perched on his nose like he was about to audition for a role in Top Gun.
“Hey man. Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” He slid the sunglasses up on his forehead. Surprise lifted them higher when his eyebrows shot clear up to his hairline. “Sophie?”
“Hi, Tanner.” Her tone lacked any hint of joviality and when he smiled in greeting, she didn’t reciprocate.
“Is this the someone’s opinion you wanted?” Tanner turned to Cole, hand splayed in Sophie’s direction.
“Well, I want more than just her opinion,” Cole said, then realized his blunder, the potential for those words to be greatly misconstrued. “I mean, I want her opinion, yes, but mostly, her approval. Sophie’s flower farm is on the same plot we’ll be landscaping and it’s vital that we incorporate it so it feels like one cohesive and intentional space.”
“Never thought I’d be working on a project again with you, Soph. Can’t say I’m disappointed one little bit.”
Hearing Tanner call her Soph made his stomach tighten in discomfort. He hoped she hadn’t experienced the same reaction each time Cole had used that nickname for her before.
“We weren’t exactly working together on anything, Tanner,” Sophie said in a manner so clipped, even Cole felt put in his place.
“Well, sure. Whatever you want to call it.” He shrugged, then blurted, “Shoot, I left my contractor’s card in the truck. Let me grab it real quick and catch up with you.”
Cole and Sophie agreed to meet Tanner inside, so they turned to begin their walk up to Morning Glory Nursery. Cole’s steps were just as hesitant as his voice when he inferred, “I take it you two have already met?”
Expelling a sigh, Sophie followed it with a groan. “We’ve met.”
That didn’t feel like the entire answer. “Listen, I’m not going to barrage you with a bunch of questions because it’s really none of my business, so if you want to offer any more information, that’s
totally up to you. I just want to be sure that you’re comfortable with Tanner managing things on the jobsite. He’s going to be my point-man on this, but if he’s any sort of threat to you, just say the word and I’ll cut him loose.”
“He’s not a threat at all. Just a guy who couldn’t take a hint.”
“Gotcha.” Cole rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s weird. I could have sworn he was right out of college. I didn’t realize he was around your age.”
“What makes you think I’m not right out of college?”
Cole’s throat went dry. “Oh, I—”
“I’m teasing you, Cole. I graduated six years ago,” she clarified. “And Tanner is right out of college, I think. He was actually just out of high school when we first met.”
The large automatic doors yawned open, allowing Cole and Sophie to walk through. Air conditioning hit them with a chilled blast. Sophie turned to the right and pulled out a flatbed cart from the long line gathered along the wall.
“I didn’t take you for a robbing-the-cradle sort of gal,” Cole joked.
“I’m not. At all. He was the brother of one of my grooms.”
“And just how many grooms have you had?”
“You know what I mean.” Sophie jabbed the point of her elbow into his stomach and Cole wished he would’ve had more of a warning because he would’ve at least attempted to flex. “I did the flowers for his older brother’s wedding several years ago and somehow, throughout the course of it all, Tanner came to the conclusion that we would make a great couple.” She nodded toward the doors on the left side of the building that led to the outdoor patio where the potted plants were kept, indicating that was the direction they should head. Cole followed. “Must’ve been all those times I had to call him the best man that went to his head. All I know is that the day of the wedding, I’m pinning his boutonniere on his lapel and he goes in for a kiss. Completely shocking and not at all wanted, nor encouraged.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I think he’d gotten ahold of some of the champagne intended for the toast and decided to start the festivities a little early. I figured after the big day it would all die down, but he called and texted for a solid month before I had to pretend to be dating someone else for him to finally get the hint.”
In the Market for Love Page 7