Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel

by Tracy March

  Bryce.

  Struggling to appear calmer than she felt, she made her way over to him as quickly as she could, eager to reach him before her grandpa did. “Hi there,” she said, coming to a stop and standing several feet in front of him. “What a surprise.”

  And what an understatement. Any other time she would’ve been super-excited to see him, but Bryce showing up here could only make things more complicated. Holly liked a motivated man, but right now Bryce bordered on being too ballsy. He had said he’d like to meet her grandpa sometime, but neither of them had mentioned anything about today.

  “I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by,” he said with an adorable grin. He wore the same clothes he’d had on this morning when they’d sat on the swing and talked—jeans, hiking boots, and a dark gray long-sleeved T-shirt that gave his green eyes a silver hue.

  Her grandpa joined them in the shade of the house, a pleasant look on his weathered face, and a glint of suspicion in his eyes.

  Holly swallowed hard and tipped her head toward Bryce. “Grandpa, this is Bryce Bennett.”

  The guy who’s buying the lodge. And the man I’m falling for…

  Bryce held a large paper bag in his left hand, and shook her grandpa’s hand with his right. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Birdsong.”

  “What brings you by today?” her grandpa asked, his tone even.

  Holly tensed. He hadn’t invited Bryce to call him Fred, something he’d done without fail every time he’d been introduced to someone in her presence.

  “Holly said you two would be busy planting all morning. I figured you’d be ready for lunch right about now.” Bryce lifted the paper bag. “Someone told me that sandwiches from On the Slice are the best in town. And that you like chicken salad.” He set his gaze on Holly then shifted it to her grandpa. “And your favorite is pastrami on rye.”

  “You’ve been talking to Lindsey.” Her grandpa brightened as he did over anything having to do with her. He’d unofficially adopted Lindsey as his second granddaughter shortly after she’d arrived in Thistle Bend and become friendly with Holly.

  A little of the tension went out of Holly’s shoulders.

  “I stopped in to have a look around the museum earlier,” Bryce said. “I’m trying to learn more about Thistle Bend’s history, and that place makes it fun and easy.”

  Holly knew very well that his experience learning the town’s history lessons prior to him visiting the museum had been completely opposite. She guessed he’d gone to see what he could find out about Warner Montgomery III, but asking him would be skipping way too far ahead for her grandpa to understand. “Lindsey and her staff have done an excellent job with the museum.” Her grandpa smiled and jingled the change in the pocket of his overalls.

  Bryce nodded. “I’ll second that. And she nudged me in the right direction for lunch.”

  “Nice of you to bring it,” her grandpa said, his tone a little lighter. “Let’s go wash up and eat it while it’s fresh.”

  They walked across the lawn and toward the greenhouse.

  At her grandpa’s side, Bryce shaded his eyes and gazed up at the glimmering glass structure. “This greenhouse is something,” he said.

  Holly was used to seeing it, yet she had to agree. It was half the size of her grandpa’s rambling ranch house—maybe more. And it had all the best gardening gadgets and gizmos. The only one she’d ever seen to rival it was at Milly and Merri Montgomery’s place when she’d gone there with Lindsey to visit.

  They went inside the greenhouse, where the humid air smelled like spring. Bryce looked around wide-eyed as they stepped over to the large countertop and sink.

  “Ladies first,” her grandpa said, gesturing for Holly to take her turn washing her hands.

  “I’ve never been in a greenhouse this huge or well equipped,” Bryce said to her grandpa. “Looks like you have everything you need to get an early start on your garden every year.”

  Her grandpa nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Here in Thistle Bend we have high altitude, arid climate, extreme winters, short summers, and variable rain and snowfall. Leaves us about sixty-two days frost-free, and that’s not near enough time to grow some of my vegetables and fruits. With the greenhouse, I can extend the growing season and reduce some of my risk.”

  Holly couldn’t believe how easily Bryce had gotten her grandpa to gush about gardening—a subject he could dwell on for days. He might not talk about anything else while Bryce was here, and that could turn out to be a good thing.

  She stepped away from the sink, and her grandpa gestured for Bryce to go next. Holly took the lunch bag from him and he started washing his hands.

  “This running water is a huge plus,” he said.

  “That was a must-have. And we’ve also got an automatic watering system.” Her grandpa pointed to some of the pipes and tubes running along the rows.

  Holly’s heart hitched at the way he’d said “we,” as if he meant himself and her grandma, himself and Holly, or maybe even the whole Birdsong family. Whichever way he’d meant it, she loved the sentiment.

  “Very cool.” Bryce dried his hands with a paper towel, and came to Holly’s side.

  “Saved the best for last,” Holly said as her grandpa went to the sink and started the water flowing. She was eager to make it clear that there was room in her heart for three men—her grandpa, her dad, and…

  Bryce?

  She’d reserved that spot for the one, and she was starting to think it might be him.

  Bryce walked over and checked out the potting benches and growing trays, leaning in to get a closer look at the seedlings and read the labels. “This setup is top-notch. I had no idea you could grow some of this stuff with the conditions here—like watermelons, tomatoes, and corn.”

  Holly’s grandpa tossed his paper towel in the trash. “Wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t built this place. Those plants couldn’t grow outside this environment, and I still have to baby some of them. I try to give them the best chance by using the heartiest seeds.” He stepped over to a metal cabinet and Bryce and Holly followed. Opening the door, he revealed a grid of cubicles, similar to a wine rack. “After the growing season, I’ll let some of my most vigorous plants go to seed. Then I’ll collect the seeds, dry them, and store them in these white paper envelopes.” He pulled an envelope from one of the cubicles and handed it to Bryce. “The labels show the type of plant, the variety, and the harvest date. I might use them the next season, or swap them.” He looked sternly at the envelope. “But I’m picky about who I’ll swap with.”

  Holly was heartened by the interaction between the two of them. Bryce appeared genuinely interested as he studied the label on the envelope and shook it. Seeds rattled inside. “Sweet—future red peppers. I love ’em roasted.” He handed the envelope back to Holly’s grandpa, who filed it back in its cube.

  They left the greenhouse and walked across the lawn to the paver patio behind the house. Holly set the bag on the wrought-iron table for four, shaded by a bright blue umbrella. She stole a wide-eyed glance at Bryce, and he gave her an I’ve-got-this wink that made her worry about what might be coming. He and her grandpa sat down while she doled out the lunch Bryce had brought—sandwiches, dill pickle spears, Jackson’s Honest purple heirloom potato chips, and bottled tea. She pulled out the last item in the bag. “Look, Grandpa, caramel-ripple brownies.”

  He cast a sidelong look at Bryce and smoothed his hand down the front of his overalls. “I’ve never said no to a caramel-ripple brownie.”

  Bryce grinned. “Can’t say that I blame you.”

  Holly sat next to her grandpa, leaving him in the middle of her and Bryce. She wondered if she could possibly eat. Was there any room for food with all the butterflies in her stomach?

  Caramel-ripple brownies…

  They’d all have to find a way to squeeze in.

  “What kind of sandwich did you get?” Holly asked Bryce.

  “I went with the pastrami on rye.” He n
odded. “Sounded pretty tasty.”

  “Good choice,” her grandpa said.

  Holly grinned.

  They ate in silence for a moment, Holly enjoying the savory tarragon chicken salad on fresh homemade bread.

  Bryce set his sandwich on the wrapper and took a swig of his tea. “Mr. Birdsong, I—”

  “Call me Fred,” her grandfather said.

  Holly chewed faster. Things were looking up.

  “Yes, sir.” Bryce nodded once. “I imagine you’re aware that I’m buying the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge.”

  Holly nearly choked on her chicken salad. Her grandpa put down his sandwich and set his intense gaze on Bryce.

  “Before I put in an offer,” Bryce said, “I did some research on the lodge and found out that things didn’t go well in Thistle Bend before, during, and some time after it was in business. I own a lodge in Costa Rica that’s been a real success, so I know how to run a hospitality business. I’m eager to put that knowledge to work here, to renovate the lodge…and its former reputation. My goal is to make it a positive asset for the area, where good things happen, where people enjoy working, where at-risk teens can come to an adventure sports camp—free. I’ve hosted one in Costa Rica every summer since I’ve owned the lodge.” He shrugged his sturdy shoulders. “It’s what saved me from spending even more time in juvie when I was a cocky teenager, and staying involved in adventure sports probably kept me out of jail later on.”

  Holly stared at him, her heart thrumming. He hosted a free adventure sports camp for at-risk teens?

  Bryce sucked in a deep breath that lifted his pecs, and blew it out with a hiss. “All that being said, I’ve recently read years’ worth of Thistle Bend newspapers to learn more details about the history of the lodge. And Holly has shared your family’s story with me.”

  Her grandpa pressed his lips together tightly, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper. Holly couldn’t tell if he was angry, upset, or disappointed. Maybe some of each. Perhaps something else entirely.

  “I’m so sorry about how the townspeople treated you after you made the decision to approve the loan for the lodge,” Bryce said to him. “As a businessman, I understand that sometimes you have to make the best decisions you can in no-win situations—and you made yours in good faith. After that, Adam Evanston was responsible for all the bad things that happened with the lodge, not you. The people that blamed you just didn’t think things all the way through.” He swiped his fingers across his forehead and dragged his hand down his face. “It’s awful what that did to you and your family.” Bryce reached over and squeezed her grandpa’s shoulder. “Especially to your wife.”

  Heavyhearted, Holly reached for her grandpa’s hand.

  “I’m so sorry you lost her,” Bryce said, glancing at Holly then back at her grandpa. “I hated to hear it when Holly told me. Then Holly showed me her bracelet that says ‘Always love.’ She said your wife loved gardening, and she told me about the amazing greenhouse you built in memory of her. About the baskets of fruits and vegetables you leave on people’s porches.” He shook his head, looking a little bewildered. “I’m sincerely blown away by the loving ways you two keep her spirit alive.”

  Holly swallowed back tears. Her grandpa nodded, his eyes glistening.

  “I hate that I didn’t have a chance to meet her. Maybe I can get to know her through the two of you.” Bryce furrowed his brow. “But I don’t even know her name.” He set his gaze on her grandpa.

  “Camellia,” her grandpa said, his bottom lip quivering. “But most of the time I called her Cammie.”

  Bryce nodded. “I like that. It fits perfectly with how I imagined her.” He squeezed her grandpa’s shoulder again, then brought his hand to the table and began tapping his fingers on top of it, something Holly had noticed he did when his emotions were running high.

  “It did fit her,” her grandpa said with a wisp of a rueful smile.

  They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, the breeze rustling the leaves of the aspens beyond the barn.

  “After I heard your story,” Bryce said to Holly’s grandpa, “I completely understood why you’d be against the lodge coming back into your life—why you’d be against me. And I could have ducked you, gone about my business, and left Holly alone to explain why she’s representing me. But both of you deserve better than that, and that’s why I showed up here today, to let you see for yourself what I am about. To get it all out in the open.” He leaned back in his chair, still lightly tapping his fingers on the table.

  Holly thought her heart might burst. He’d taken the talk she’d dreaded having with her grandpa and turned it into something bittersweet and positive. She felt a little guilty about wishing he hadn’t come when he’d shown up earlier. He had to have been nineteen kinds of nervous standing there at the corner of the house, clutching a big brown bag full of lunch. She set her gaze on him, smiled softly, and reached for his hand, twining her fingers between his. Without words, she hoped to convey to him and her grandpa that Bryce was more than just a client.

  He’s the man I left room for in my heart.

  Chapter 15

  Fresh from a shower, Bryce stood in front of the closet in the bedroom of his cabin, putting on a clean pair of jeans. He’d returned there following his amazing afternoon with Holly and Fred, planting vegetables in the garden.

  Fred…

  He’d had no idea he’d leave Birdsong Farm familiar and friendly enough with Holly’s grandpa to call him Fred.

  Hearing Holly’s story this morning, and resolving things with Fred this afternoon, had Bryce feeling mellow and satisfied. Digging in the dirt had been cathartic, and contributing to the garden had given him a small yet meaningful opportunity to pay homage to Holly’s grandma.

  Despite the positive outcome of his visit, his conscience nagged at him for not being completely up front with Holly and Fred. Bryce hadn’t expected things to go as smoothly as they had when he’d shown up at the farm. In the end, he’d chosen not to risk losing the ground he’d gained by revealing that Adam Evanston was his father. As Holly had claimed about her story, there’d be a better way to tell them…a better time.

  Wouldn’t there?

  After getting an everything-is-fine update from the manager he’d left in charge at Los Halcón, Bryce had taken a long shower, relaxing under the steady stream of steaming water, mostly pleased with how the day had gone. A smile had tugged at his lips as he remembered how knotted his nerves had been when he’d arrived at Birdsong Farm, knowing that his plan could backfire big-time. He’d had no idea what he was going to say, or if he’d get to say it, but somehow his words had come out right.

  He pulled a fresh T-shirt over his head just as his phone pinged with a text. Hoping it was Holly, he walked over to the bureau and checked, the wood-plank floor cool beneath his bare feet.

  Milly and Merri can’t wait to meet the new man in town. Bloody Marys at the Princess tomorrow after the farmers market. See you then!

  Sweet. Lindsey had come through.

  He texted her back:

  Bloody Marys? Bottoms up!

  It was a long shot to think that two old ladies whose grandfather was in a picture he’d found in a sealed suite at the lodge were going to have any answers for him. But now that he’d run into a dead end with the calendars, he’d take a chance and see if he got lucky. At least he’d have the opportunity to meet the sisters who seemed to have Lindsey so enchanted.

  The thought of the calendars had him eager to check the dates of the notations against those of the newspapers articles. He headed into the living room, pulled the calendars out of his backpack, and sat on the couch, in front of the coffee table where all the newspapers were stacked. Starting with the first calendar, he compared the notations to the earliest newspapers. Just as he had suspected, nearly every notation turned out to be a prediction, and most of what was predicted had occurred days, weeks, or even months later. Immersed in the mystery, he compared the second and
third calendars with the newspapers and found that the same held true. With a mess of newspapers everywhere, he picked up the fourth calendar just as someone knocked on the door.

  Curious to see who’d come out here, Bryce walked over to the door and opened it, his heart soaring at the sight of Holly.

  “I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by,” she said with a flirty tone. A tinge of her perfume wafted in on the breeze—the now familiar combination of cedar, citrus, and fresh spice that aroused all his senses. Her hair was loose and shiny, catching the early evening sun. She wore an outfit similar to the one she had on when they’d met up on the Wild Rose Ridge Trail—gray hiking pants and a long-sleeved bright blue top, with a sea-foam green fleece pullover tied around her waist. He liked all the outfits he’d seen her in, but this outdoorsy look was one of his favorites.

  “Wanna come in?” he asked.

  Holly stepped inside, yet stopped when she got toe to toe with him. She reached up and smoothed her hands down his scruffy cheeks, tipped up her chin, pulled him toward her, and kissed him.

  Intensely.

  Deeply.

  Longingly.

  She combed her fingers through his damp hair and clutched the length of it. Cupping his head with one hand, she trailed the other down along his neck and pressed her palm over his heart.

  Bryce’s breath hitched at the fervor of her kiss, heat prickling his skin. He wrapped her in his arms, willingly captivated, eager to feel her against him again.

  After she kissed him nearly dizzy, she pulled away just far enough to speak. “What you did for my grandpa and me today…” She brushed her lips lightly against his. “There are no words,” she whispered.

  “It meant just as much to me.” His voice rumbled in his throat, low and husky. He pulled her closer, her body tempting his. He longed to feel her skin next to his, to please her like she deserved to be pleased.

  Holly pressed her fingers between his pecs and slowly traced them down as far as she could before their touching bodies stopped her. It might be the first time he wished there was more space between them. “You busy?” she asked.