The Chocolate Garden (Dare River Book 2)

by Ava Miles

  “It’s time for a change.”

  Like summer edging out spring, she was stepping into a new season.

  Before she knew it, she was sitting in the hairstylist’s chair with wet hair. Marie ran her hands through Tammy’s long blond locks. “So, what are we going to do today? A trim?”

  The woman probably hadn’t known what to make of her French twist. Who wore that style on a daily basis? No one except for her and Mama and Meade’s conservative ladies guild.

  “No, I want something different.” Was that desperation lacing her voice? “Something shorter maybe. Oh, I don’t know. What do you recommend?”

  Marie’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she studied Tammy. “Shorter would look good with your cheekbones, but are you sure? It would be really different than your current hair style. You won’t be able to put it up.”

  She gripped the arms of her chair. Good. Then she couldn’t go back to old habits. “Okay.”

  “Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?”

  A bubble of laugher squeaked out. A boyfriend? Wasn’t that funny? “No. I just want a new look. Whatever you do, please don’t make it all one length. I’ve had that look for years.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  She wasn’t, and it was hard not to wince when the scissors sheared through the first lock of hair. As it fell to the floor, Tammy felt like Samson undoubtedly had when Delilah began his haircut.

  Marie took her time, chattering away about the weather and asking about Tammy’s children after she learned about Rory and Annabelle. After a while, the stylist’s obvious precision calmed her, and she released her death grip on the chair and stopped staring at the wet strands falling to the floor. Marie took her time blowing out her hair, using a large brush to roll the short curls. When the blow dryer stopped, her mama wasn’t looking back at her in the mirror any more.

  No, the new Tammy Hollins looked more modern, approachable. Short layers framed her face, softening her enough that she looked vulnerable. Her hands shook as she touched the bangs—something Mama swore only loose, big-haired women wore.

  Marie rubbed her tense shoulders. “What do you think? It really changes your look. Honey, I know you’re young, but it’s still taken years off you.”

  Tammy touched her bare neck. It was different, and Marie was right. She felt years lighter. It would be an adventure, getting to know the new person in the mirror. And it would be another way she could teach her children to never become trapped in an identity that no longer supported them.

  “It’s perfect.”

  She kept looking at her image in the rear view mirror on the way home. When she pulled into the driveway, she grabbed her bags out of the car. Annabelle and Rory ran out to meet her, all four dogs racing behind them. The kids skidded to a halt while Barbie and Bandit danced around their small legs. Rye’s golden retrievers, Bullet and Banjo, who apparently didn’t see or smell a difference in her, rushed up to nuzzle her waist.

  “Mama! You cut your hair.” Annabelle pushed the dogs out of the way and hugged her leg. “It looks so pretty. And you have new clothes. I love them!” Even at five, Annabelle had the fashion gene. Perhaps she would take her shoe shopping too.

  Rory said nothing. He just stared.

  “Don’t you like it, honey?” she asked, feeling her new confidence lean like it might topple if she didn’t shore it up.

  “You look so happy, Mama.”

  Oh, her little boy. He always saw more than most people did.

  “I am. Now who wants to help me carry in my bags? Then I can show y’all what else I bought.”

  The sitter’s mouth dropped open when she saw Tammy.

  “Were the kids all right?” she asked, putting her purse on the counter. Yeah, she needed a new one of those too. Her current one could have graced Queen Elizabeth’s arm.

  “They were little darlings,” Alice said, recovering. “Your hair looks wonderful. It reminds me of Charlize Theron.”

  Whoa! She reminded Alice of that bombshell? “Why, thank you.”

  After paying her and seeing her out, she took Annabelle upstairs to model her new clothes. Her daughter’s delighted laughter made it easy to smile and feel confident in her new look. Rory, who’d declared that he would leave her and Annabelle to do their “girl stuff,” sounding just like Rye, was downstairs watching cartoons.

  Once she’d shown her daughter all her new looks, Tammy changed her top to a red one as another declaration to herself. Mama had never let her daughters wear red, thinking it was too bold. Tory wore it all the time, and for her, it was just a color. For Tammy, it was a statement of intent.

  Women who opened their own businesses wore red.

  Later that evening, she was pushing Annabelle on the tree swing when she saw a familiar form walking around the house toward them. Rye’s goldens shot off to meet him, barking madly.

  “It’s Mr. McGuiness, Mama,” Annabelle yelled. “Yeah!”

  Was he here to set a time for their consultation about his gardens? Tammy touched her short curls. What would he think about her new look? Would he even say anything? And then she cursed herself as a fool for wondering.

  Rory, who had been playing in the tree house Rye and John Parker had built for the kids in the spring, climbed down and met him halfway, his dog Bandit leaping at his side. John Parker stopped to talk to him, ruffling his hair, and crouched down to pet all three dogs. Moments later, Rory ran off toward the house, his canine companions in hot pursuit, and John Parker started walking toward them again.

  “Hi, Mr. McGuiness,” Annabelle cried out, kicking her feet to swing higher.

  When John Parker reached them, his eyebrow winged up. “Someone got a haircut, I see. It looks good on you.”

  Gosh, she wanted to duck her head like a schoolgirl at her first cotillion dance. “Do you really like it?” she asked, giving the swing another push.

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You look more beautiful than ever, Tammy, and that’s like saying there’s more water in the oceans today.”

  Even though she knew it was her imagination, the ground trembled under her feet. He’d never given her such a personal compliment before, and the husky way he’d said it…

  John Parker grabbed her arm suddenly and pulled her out of the way. “Mind the swing. You almost got that pretty head knocked off.”

  Gooseflesh raised on her arm at his touch. His big, tanned hand was warm and strong, and she liked the way it felt on her bare skin. She hadn’t been able to forget the way she’d felt dancing in his arms at Rye’s wedding.

  Aware. Flushed. Needy.

  And afraid.

  His thumb stroked her forearm, almost as if he could sense her wicked thoughts. Her eyes darted to his when he continued that slow, tantalizing slide up her arm. The gentle breeze felt good on her now blushing face. In the distance, she heard the dogs bark, but she didn’t move. Didn’t step back. In some remote part of herself, Tammy realized she was feeling desire.

  “Mr. McGuiness! Push me, push me!”

  Tammy took one last look at those slumberous blue eyes and stepped away.

  Rory arrived, breathing hard from running, his red bike helmet in hand. “I’m all set, Mr. McGuiness.”

  “I told Rory we could go for a short bike ride before I mow the grass. He’s also hankering to take a ride with me on the mower, but I said that would be up to you.”

  He was going to mow the grass? “You don’t have to do that.” Heavens, she could hire someone.

  “Rye asked me. We don’t respect a man who doesn’t mow his lawn. It’s a matter of pride. Anyway, I don’t mind—it’s a good opportunity to think, compose songs… And,” he added after a moment’s pause, “there’s nothing more fun than tearing across the land in a riding mower.”

  The male mind…this only confirmed how little she understood it. “But none of the men I grew up with ever mowed their lawns.”

  “And from what Rye’s told me, those yahoos gi
ve us men a bad name.”

  Was she really having this conversation? “But you have your own lawn to mow.”

  Was this Rye’s way of keeping a man around the house to make sure she and the kids were okay?

  Her newfound freedom turned to sawdust in her mouth.

  “I want to do this. Besides, I thought it would be fun for the kids. Rye said that he takes turns letting them ride with him. I would be really careful with them, I promise.”

  That she didn’t doubt.

  “Mama, please let him take us on the mower. It’s so much fun!” Rory thrust his bike helmet on his head as he spoke. “I’ll wear my helmet for that too, I promise.”

  She and Rye had negotiated that safety procedure even though her brother thought it was crazy.

  “You make them wear bike helmets when they ride the lawn mower?” John Parker asked, obviously fighting a smile.

  So another man thought she was crazy—or uptight. Okay, she was a mix of both.

  “Lawn mowers are no different than three-wheelers, which Rye also loves to ride around on. Helmets are a must.”

  John Parker held up his hands. “Safety first. I get it.”

  “Mama, I want to stop swinging,” Annabelle cried.

  “Here honey, let me help you.” John Parker caught her and the swing in his big hands, making her squeal like a banshee, and plucked her into his arms.

  “Can I go riding with you and Rory?” she asked. “Uncle Rye just took the training wheels off my Barbie bike because I can ride like a big girl now.”

  “She’ll slow us down,” Rory muttered, scuffing the dirt with his shoe.

  Her son was usually good about playing with Annabelle, but he was right. Annabelle still wobbled like there was an earthquake beneath her when she rode her bike.

  “Annabelle, why don’t you and Barbie help me get dinner started and then you can be the first to ride on the lawn mower with Mr. McGuiness when he and Rory return?”

  She knew Rory missed Rye and, as Tory called them, the manly things they did together. This would be good for him.

  But her daughter stomped her foot. “Mama, why can’t I go with them on the bike ride? I can ride fast.”

  Part of her liked her daughter’s rebellion. She would never have even dreamed of stomping her foot at her own mama.

  “Sugar, what have I told you about stomping your foot?” she said gently.

  “That it’s not nice.”

  “Exactly, now why don’t you take Barbie into the house and wait for me in the kitchen? I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I’ll get my bike, Mr. McGuiness.” Rory raced off, the dogs streaking ahead of him.

  Annabelle stomped off toward the house, muttering.

  With the kids out of sight, John Parker smiled. “Annabelle’s a pistol. She reminded me of Rye when she stomped her foot like that.”

  Her brother had always had fight in him, and even Mama hadn’t been able to squelch it. Cultivating Annabelle’s spirit while encouraging respect was like walking a parental tightrope.

  “Rye laughs when she does it. I’ve told him that he’ll get his when he and Tory have kids.”

  John Parker’s chuckle raised the hair on her newly exposed nape. “They’ll have strong kids. No doubt about that.”

  “Thank you for taking Rory bike riding, John Parker. I know Rye put you up to all this.” Best put it out in the open.

  They walked side by side through the gardens she’d created for Rye as they headed toward the house. It gave her pleasure to see the roses blooming in a wild array of pinks, whites, and yellows. Of course, she needed to deadhead the spent blooms, but she could do that after the kids went to sleep…when she was also planning to look at all the other paperwork Daddy wanted her to review for her business. Sometimes there just wasn’t enough time in the day.

  “Honey,” he said, and just that one word—and the way he said it—made the fading sun feel hotter on her neck. “Rye didn’t put me up to anything, but he did ask me to make sure you knew you had someone to count on. If you need anything, you just call, all right? Besides, you know I love the kids.”

  And it was true. He always paid attention to them, and not in that begrudging way that many adults treated kids. “Thank you, then.”

  John Parker trailed a finger over a lush pink hydrangea with lime green leaves as they walked by it. “Have you given any thought to coming over to see what kind of a garden you could design for me?”

  She’d even dreamed about it, her hands in the hot, loamy soil, his eyes on her as she laid another seedling in the earth.

  “Yes, Daddy and I have been furiously setting things up for my business. I even ordered my new business cards this morning. But I have to ask, are you really sure you want me to do it, John Parker? You could hire the best designer in Nashville. I don’t want you to do this because of…well, Rye.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, making her jump at his touch.

  “Look around you, Tammy. You created this, and it’s magical.” He massaged her tense shoulders. “How could I want anyone else?”

  His words comforted her. “Okay, then. Do you have a budget for this?” she asked.

  “Nope. I want you to go all out, honey, just like you did with Rye’s place. Why don’t you come over Wednesday to take a look at the property? Bring the kids with you.”

  All out? Her other inquiries had been for smaller jobs, and her inner gardener wanted to dance at the thought of having free reign. “That sounds lovely, but I’ll have to see if Alice can watch the kids.”

  “They won’t bother me on our tour.”

  All she remembered from her one visit to his house were its homey atmosphere and the lovely acres of emerald grass out back. “No, I don’t want them underfoot when I have my first consultation with you. I want to give you my full attention.”

  And boy, she knew drinking in his handsome face would hardly be a chore. She eased away from his touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. That was twice he’d touched her today, and it had felt…way too exciting.

  “You didn’t tell me your company’s name.”

  Her smile seemed to rise in her heart before fanning out across her face. “Visionary Gardening.”

  “My, how I like the sound of that.”

  His words sent a shiver down her body. Before walking again, she deadheaded a few more spent flowers to do something with her hands and because she loved to feel them between her fingers. Who would have guessed that snapping off a dead bloom would generate a fresh one? She loved that notion.

  They walked to the house, and it was pleasant to have him stroll alongside her without pressing her for conversation. Funny how that said more than words.

  The new Tammy knew what she wanted to do next.

  “Will you stay for supper?” she asked before she could lose the nerve.

  His dimple winked at her as he smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

  Nerves washed over her like ants. He thought she was making a move, and the very idea flustered her. God, she so wasn’t ready for that. What in the world would a move from a woman be like anyway? Oh heavens, she thought. Mrs. Augusta’s motto had been: Always let the man make the first move, but there’s nothing wrong with nudging him in the right direction.

  “It’s the least I can do since you’re taking Rory on a ride and mowing the yard,” she said, her words a tangled ball of politeness and clarification.

  His smile dimmed then, like the waning afternoon sun, and she was sorry to be the cause of it. “Of course.”

  She turned and walked ahead of him to the house, realizing that this new Tammy still had a lot more growing to do, especially in regards to one particular handsome man.

  Chapter 6

  You could tell a lot about a woman’s experience with men based on how she reacted to offers of assistance in the kitchen.

  When John Parker asked Tammy how he could help prepare dinner after he’d returned from his bike ride with Rory, her cool
expression gave way like Moses through the Red Sea.

  “I take it Rye doesn’t cook much,” he commented with a wry smile.

  “Well…only if Tory is cooking,” she responded and touched a hand to her hair again, something she’d probably done ten times since he’d come inside. “Then he’s around in the kitchen, all right. Usually teasing and grabbing at Tory so much she ends up ordering him out. You know Rye.”

  Yes, he did, and no one could ignore the sparks between the couple.

  “When it was just Rye and the kids and me, I did the cooking. It’s not like Tory’s, but…”

  A package of chicken breasts was unthawing on the kitchen counter. “How were you planning on cooking the chicken? I can throw them on the grill if you’d like.”

  She pulled out some zucchini from the refrigerator and washed them, setting them on a cutting board when she was done. “That would be nice. I intended to be further along with the preparations by the time you got back, but Annabelle wanted me to sit and watch her show with her. She was cuddling so sweetly I just couldn’t pass up the moment.”

  “She’s a darling. She and Rory are cuddling on the couch now, watching a movie. They’re cute together.”

  “Yes, they are. Now, I have to warn you about dinner. We’re not doing anything fancy. Just some chicken, vegetables, and wild rice.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he said, smiling to himself as he watched her efficiently cut the zucchini into nearly even slices. “Since I know where things are around here, I’ll start the rice.”

  After filling the pan with rice and water, he grabbed the olive oil from the cabinet and added a splash before setting it to boil on the stove. “Best get the grill going now.”

  “And since you know how to do that too, I won’t say a word. Holler if you need anything.”

  “Do you want anything on these?” he asked, picking up the package of chicken and the bottle of olive oil.

  “Not for me and the kids. But if you’d like to add something…”

  He gave her a wink. “I know where Rye keeps the hot sauce.”