In the Market for Love

by Squires, Megan

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Veronica turned to a customer in her line who wished to purchase a bouquet. “I’ll catch up with you later, doll.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Sophie spent the next hour checking in with each vendor, making sure they had their permits posted while she surveyed their inventory. She sampled so much delectable produce throughout her stroll, she nearly had a bellyache. Everything was mouthwatering and perfectly ripe, ready to eat.

  By six-thirty, the market was in full swing. Cole’s guitar provided a relaxing backdrop to the overall whir of the lot. Sophie could hear his full voice croon in and out over the noise, like a wave cresting and crashing the shores, then retreating back to sea. She couldn’t quite make out the words to each song, but there were several beats she recognized from her dad’s repertoire of go-to melodies. She assumed every musician had an inventory on hand, a selection of musical pieces they could pull from at a moment’s notice.

  Sophie walked the parking lot, enjoying the sights and sounds until she couldn’t ignore the ache in her lower back, all of the stresses that led up to this night gathered there in her tense muscles. She knew it was time for a break, so she pulled up a folding chair beside Veronica and her table of flowers to rest a moment.

  Sophie had purchased a raspberry lemonade from one of the new vendors and it provided much needed relief against the rising temperatures. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but the thermometer topped off in the mid-eighties, and with all her running around, that was warm enough for sweat to collect on Sophie’s upper lip and gather in beads on her forehead. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her face with the cloth.

  “Take a load off, Soph. Enjoy the sweet, sweet tunes,” Veronica said, sashaying her hips back and forth to the classical guitar and splaying her arms out on either side like she was at a concert. “He’s not too bad to look at, either.”

  Sophie’s face heated. Grateful for the handkerchief, she hid behind it as she tried to mask her expression.

  “Where on earth do you think he came from?”

  Sophie shrugged, wordless.

  “All I know is, I hope he stays around.” Then, taking a cluster of flowers into her grip, Veronica turned to her friend. “Mind holding down the fort for me for a sec? I’ve got something I need to do.”

  “Sure thing,” Sophie said, thankful for the out. Any longer and she would be spilling her guts not only about Cole’s identity, but her growing feelings for him. That was information she definitely didn’t need to share.

  She didn’t know what Veronica had up her sleeve, but figured it had to do with Cole based on the appreciative way she spoke about both his looks and talent. Following her with her gaze, Sophie watched Veronica thread her way through the market crowds and up to Cole, who was mid-song, his mouth only inches from the microphone. He acknowledged his visitor with a slight lift of his chin, but continued singing, not missing a single beat. When Veronica suddenly dropped down onto his lap, a flower held between her teeth like a tango dancer, Sophie’s eyes almost tumbled out of her skull. Cole, being the good sport that he was, angled and adjusted his guitar slightly so he could continue to play, despite the woman literally throwing herself at him. Veronica snaked a hand around his neck and drew her mouth to his cheek, depositing a full, playful kiss along his square jaw. Then, just as suddenly as she appeared, she lifted off of his lap, turned her back in the most dramatic fashion, and tossed the remaining flowers over her shoulder. They landed in Cole’s open guitar case at his feet.

  “Just a little thank-you for sharing his talent.” Veronica smirked at Sophie after she came back to the flower tent. “I think it took him a bit by surprise, but I doubt he can say he didn’t enjoy it.”

  Sophie put her mouth on her straw and guzzled down the remaining contents of her cup. She had no real answer, nothing to say back to Veronica, but her stomach churned as she replayed the scene in her mind. Jealousy, green and all-consuming, coursed through her.

  What did Sophie even have to be jealous about? Cole wasn’t her boyfriend. And that was just a bunch of innocent flirtation. Veronica was like that, always had been. Her overconfidence was usually endearing and, often times, entertaining. Up until the moment she decided to sink her hooks into Cole. It alarmed Sophie that she would have such a strong, visceral reaction to seeing Cole with another woman, though.

  Excusing herself, Sophie rose to throw away her empty lemonade cup. She wiped her hands on her denim apron and drew in a stabilizing breath. However shocking, she would not allow herself to become rattled by Veronica and her silly antics. No, Sophie would remain calm. Collected. Cool as the cucumbers for sale at Dante’s tent.

  She let herself get swept up in the joy of a rewarding first market of the season. From the looks of things, most vendors had a banner night, many selling out of their goods even before closing time. Some began packing away their tables and tents, shutting down for the evening, evidently satisfied with their successes, too.

  It was dusk and the sky had only recently swapped out its bright blue hue for a more muted lavender. All in all, it was a gorgeous, fulfilling night. Sophie would choose to focus on those two things and not the stunt that Veronica had pulled. In truth, she doubted Veronica even gave it a second thought. She was a big flirt and that flirtation was not limited to Cole. Sophie knew that.

  Choosing to end the evening on a high note, Sophie made her way through the dwindling crowds toward Cole. There really wasn’t anywhere she could sit to take in his performance, so she walked the short distance to her truck in the adjacent lot and unlatched the tailgate. She hopped up onto it and let her legs dangle as though she were sitting on the edge of a pier, swinging them back and forth with the tempo. Cole hadn’t noticed her, his eyes closed as he sang with all of his heart, his strong hands gripping the pick while he strummed. Along with the discarded flowers, Cole’s guitar case held several crumpled dollar bills, meager tips from listeners that passed by. It was almost embarrassing, and Sophie realized she had no real business in asking him to perform at the Farmers’ Market. He was a professional businessman, not a busker on the street. But the content look upon his face didn’t hint at any sort of embarrassment. If anything, Cole seemed totally in his element, and when he started his final song of the evening, Sophie noticed that passion grow even more evident. His voice lifted with ease as he hit the highest notes, his range overwhelming and pure. But it wasn’t Cole’s effortless singing ability that made Sophie’s throat ball into a tight knot. It wasn’t even the melody.

  It was the words.

  “She’s spring and summer and I’m falling so hard for her.

  She’s an unfurled flower with her beauty and grace,

  And everything seems to fall into place.

  When she’s near, it’s so clear, that I’m just a man with hopes as high as the sun,

  Praying she doesn’t run

  Because if she does she’ll take my heart

  And she sure feels like my perfect start.”

  She’d never heard it before, but that song somehow felt like a part of her. Like it beat right along with her very own heart, a pulsing rhythm spreading out into her body. This wasn’t just a song. It was a love letter. A love letter Cole had clearly written for someone he held very special. Sophie wanted to be that someone more than she cared to admit and the thought of Cole singing it to anyone else made her hot with envy.

  Maybe Cole wasn’t even the original author of the song. That was the most likely scenario—that this was just another melody by some other artist and Cole just so happened to sing it that night at the market. Yet within the depths of her being—the same sacred space where she experienced that song so strongly—Sophie knew this wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be. Those lyrics came from the deepest part of Cole, too. And as she listened, she felt more connected to him than ever before.

  She felt understood. She felt desired. She felt pursued, and though it seemed premature, Sophie couldn�
�t keep the hope of something developing between them from unfolding within her heart.

  She didn’t want the song to end, but as with all songs, there was the anticipation of the final notes, the slowing in rhythm and the final decrescendo. Cole’s voice gently trailed off and his hand fell away from the guitar. Turning his head, he caught Sophie’s gaze. She offered a wave, but he just looked at her, his eyes brimming with emotion as his mouth lifted into a cautious smile, as though looking for some sign of approval.

  Sophie’s heart hammered in her chest, pounded in her ears. Cole settled his guitar in his case, right on top of the flowers and the dollar bills, and rose to his feet. Making measured strides across the gravel toward Sophie, Cole never broke eye contact.

  Sophie didn’t know what to say, her words failing in the moment as much as her composure.

  Then, in an instant, his hands were on her shoulders and his lips were on her forehead, warm, full, and soft.

  A sigh escaped Sophie’s mouth. Sliding forward on the tailgate, she leaned in toward Cole, wrapping her arms around his firm, muscled back, drawing him close to her body and holding him with all she had.

  “Do you feel this between us?” he asked in a hushed, tender voice. “Please tell me you feel it.”

  “I feel it.”

  He drew back. “I know we’re not supposed to be anything. My brain knows that. It does. But you’ll have to tell that to my heart. It hasn’t quite figured it out.”

  “I think maybe it has figured it all out, Cole. I know mine has.”

  Sophie had wanted to ask if that song was for her, but she didn’t need to anymore. In that moment, her heart told her all she needed to know.

  12

  Cole

  HE HAD BEEN too bold. He knew that, but he didn’t regret it. If anything, Cole wished he would have been even more forward. Upfront and honest about the song he’d written just for her. He wanted Sophie to know she had been his muse, his reason for putting a pen to paper. He wished he had told her so.

  But something in her smile and in the vulnerable tone of her voice told him he didn’t need to explain anything. She already knew.

  The next few weeks passed more quickly than Cole wanted them to. Usually, he liked when a project would sail by, gaining speed as things fell into place, that snowball of successes and achievements. The end result was always his motivating factor. Cole wasn’t in the race to look at the scenery as he ran toward the finish line. Yet this time around, he found himself distracted by his surroundings at every turn, like he couldn’t keep his eyes fixed on the prize.

  In fact, he had to keep reminding himself exactly what that prize was. Last month, he would have said it was the Backyard and Beyond Summer Showcase. Obviously. But if someone were to pose that question to him now, his answer would be vastly different. Sophie’s heart was the prize. That was all he wanted and if the entire backyard competition went away and she stayed, that would be just fine with Cole.

  There were times he contemplated bowing out of the design contest altogether. Cole could leave it in Tanner’s capable hands, confident it would turn out just fine. Better than fine, even. But it was Sophie’s relationship to her brother that threw a monkey wrench into things. The only way to make everything aboveboard would be if Sophie didn’t farm the very land involved in the competition. It wasn’t even an option to think along those lines.

  Instead, they became quite good at hiding their growing feelings, in public at least. Cole refrained from singing any love songs directed toward Sophie at the markets, and when the two happened to be at the McAllister’s at the same time—which was almost daily—they rarely so much as made eye contact. Cole trained his gaze not to follow Sophie as she strolled the rows, her flowers now stretching up to her waist like she was dressed in their splendor. It took great effort and determination, but Cole managed.

  The hardest part was not being able to take Sophie out on a date. He wanted so badly to go back to Aromatizzare again. The mouthwatering Lover’s Special taunted him. But Sophie was adamant they couldn’t be seen with one another, especially sharing a meal in a romantic setting. Sometimes they would eat in, at Cole’s rental home mostly, so as to avoid Caroline and Derek and any questions their togetherness might bring about.

  Because of the necessary secrecy, Cole often found himself wondering if Sophie shared his feelings. They were close in a more-than-friends sort of way, but other than a goodnight hug, they had little-to-no physical interaction. Cole was okay with that. He liked to take things slow. Even still, he couldn’t help but wonder what her warm hand would feel like in his. Would their fingers thread perfectly together? He already knew he loved the way she fit right against him when he held her, how her head met his collarbone like it was meant to rest there.

  Sure, he liked all of these physical things about Sophie, but more than that, Cole had grown to deeply admire her. It was no secret she was well respected in the community. It seemed as though everyone was a friend of Sophie’s and had a story to share about a time when she’d saved their day in one way or another. It was amazing how flowers could do that: create meaningful memories for those on the receiving end of a bouquet.

  But Cole gathered it was more than just the flowers that people thought back on so fondly. Without a doubt, it was Sophie behind them. She was like Midas with her golden touch, turning everything in her field into its most breathtaking version of itself. Sometimes, when Cole would run to the supermarket to pick up a few items, he would stroll through the floral department with his cart, just to take a peek at the arrangements they sold there. While the simple beauty of a flower couldn’t be contested, there was something missing, something to take the bouquets to the next level. That something was Sophie.

  Today Cole would have the honor of watching Sophie take her work to that next level firsthand. To his surprise, she’d invited him to accompany her to a client’s wedding. Not as a date, Cole knew that, but still, the thought of seeing Sophie totally in her element intrigued him. With each market, his feelings for her grew stronger. He could only imagine what a wedding would do to increase that emotion. It almost scared him.

  He rose early, unsure what to wear for a wedding. He hadn’t brought much out from Nashville, but he did have a few options to sort through. Pulling three slacks from the closet, he paired them with matching button-up dress shirts and stood back. To Cole, they all looked the same.

  He needed a woman’s discerning opinion.

  Reaching for his phone on the nightstand, Cole pulled up the number. On the second ring, she picked up, her face illuminating the screen.

  “Hey. I need your advice.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Trista said, groggily. She thrust a fist into her eye and rubbed hard.

  “Isn’t it almost ten o’clock there?”

  “Yes, Cole, it is. But it’s a Saturday. The only day of the week that I don’t have to spend my morning tying shoelaces and wiping snotty noses.”

  Trista was a preschool teacher, and while Cole knew she adored her job and her students, he could sense her frustration. He’d woken her on her day off. Sunday mornings she volunteered in the children’s ministry at their church, which left Saturday as her only day of rest.

  “I’m sorry, sis. I’ll call back later.”

  “No. It’s fine. I’m up now. You said you needed advice. What about?”

  “Clothes.”

  A laugh pierced through the phone. “Okay, what’s her name?”

  “What do you mean? I just need help picking an outfit.”

  “Cole, you and I both know the whole twin intuition thing is real, but I don’t even need that to know this is about a girl. In our thirty years, you’ve never asked me for advice about what to wear. Not even for your senior pictures, which was unfortunate because you really should’ve asked for my input then. That striped hoodie was atrocious.”

  “It was in style at the time.”

  “It was terrible. And the worst part is, Mom still has your photo fr
amed on the mantle. I have to see it every time I go over there, Cole. You in all of your zebra sweatshirt unsightliness. I’m going to steal that picture one of these days and burn it.”

  Looking down at the selection sprawled out on the bed, Cole noticed the black and white pinstriped shirt he had paired with dark slacks. They did have the potential to look zebra-ish. Immediately, he gathered the shirt, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it across the room near the hamper. He flipped the camera around on the phone.

  “Which of these do you like best?”

  “What’s it for?”

  “A wedding.”

  Trista clucked. “You got invited to a wedding already? Haven’t you been there less than a month?”

  “I wasn’t really invited.”

  “So you’re crashing it?”

  “No, I’m not crashing it, Trista. I’m just tagging along with a friend.”

  “But you weren’t invited. This is really confusing.”

  Cole groaned. “The florist asked me to come along to help.”

  “And I take it this florist is female?”

  “Not that it matters, but yes.”

  “And you like her.”

  “Trista, will you just help me pick an outfit?”

  “I need to know if you like her, so I can make my decision based on that info.”

  “She’s a friend.”

  “Oh, please, Cole. This is your twin you’re talking to. I know you’re lying even when you don’t know you’re lying.”

  Cole sighed, relenting. “Okay, I might like her a little bit.”

  “So you want to look your best?”