“Football? No.” Abby shook her head. “But I did play soccer in high school.”
“Really?” Matthew looked impressed. Dirk had been a field-hockey kind of guy. They’d never talked about her sports.
“We took state my senior year.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Matt said. “But it sounds impressive.”
Abby made her best superior face. “It means we were good. And I played in the city league after that. Champions three years running.”
He motioned with his head toward the game. “Would you like to come play? Show these chumps how it’s done?”
Her first thought was to turn him down. But why should she? She still liked to play. His friends had invited her first. He was being nice—not the arrogant, stuffy guy from Sainsbury House.
“Sure. Why not?”
He walked with her back toward his friends. He walked with her. Dirk would have set his own pace and expected her to match it.
“Hey, boys!” Matthew called out. “We’ve one more.”
She was welcomed heartily. Any concerns she might have had about butting in were quickly put to rest. She was immediately part of the game, treated like one of the guys, though they weren’t nearly as rough with her as they were with each other. It was great to play again. She’d stopped while Dirk was in her life, and, though she couldn’t say why, hadn’t taken it back up again.
Matthew, she discovered, could smack talk with the best of them. And he was funny. Hilarious. She’d seen hints of that during their walk around Sainsbury House the day she’d gone there on Caroline’s orders. But during their lunch among the roses a few days later, he’d been quiet and distant. She’d assumed he didn’t want to be there, or he wasn’t enjoying her company.
The two of them, who had ended up on the same team, both as forward, trounced the other team. The game wasn’t anything official, just a bunch of people trying to score against a bunch of other people, with little regard for rules.
The players began trickling off as the afternoon wore on. The game finally broke up, with the others declaring that Matthew had brought in a secret weapon, that he’d been planning to bring her in all along.
Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d grinned so wide.
“We’re good,” Matthew declared, smiling at her.
“We’re? I didn’t think you were allowed to use contractions.”
He laughed lightly. “Away from work, I can use them all I want.” Matthew dribbled his soccer ball as they walked away from the field. “Speaking of work, thanks again for helping Larry with the roses. He was having trouble clearing up the fungus you two were working on.”
She knew how persistent black rot could be. “No problem.”
Matthew opened his mouth like he meant to say something, but then stopped.
“What?”
He slowed their pace. “I have a neighbor, an older gentleman, who is an avid gardener. He has an acre’s worth of plants on his tiny little balcony.”
Abby could easily picture it.
“He has been particularly distraught lately about spots on his tomato plants.”
“On the tomatoes or the leaves?”
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “Do you think... would you be willing to take a look? Give him some advice?”
She hadn’t expected this. It was almost as if he valued her expertise. She didn’t think the lord of the manor usually talked plants with the gardening staff.
“Do you think your neighbor would welcome the advice?”
He nodded without hesitation. “And you’d like Barney. He’s fantastic.”
She kept her expression serious. “I prefer unfantastic people, actually.”
Matthew smiled at her. Somehow over the course of their soccer match, she’d forgotten how devastating that smile could be. Her heart pounded a bit before she managed to get it under control again.
“If you have a little time now, I’m just up the road a bit,” Matthew said. Again, a hint of uncertainty hung in his tone, like he was afraid he might be wearing out his welcome.
“If Barney doesn’t mind a dirty, sweaty gardener, I’m game.”
Matthew gave her a grateful look and even thanked her for it.
Which Matthew was the real one? The personable, humble, joking Matthew? Or the stuffy, arrogant one? And why was it that men were so hard to figure out?
Chapter Six
Matt knocked on Barney’s door, trying to convince himself this was actually happening. Abby Grover, who’d blown him off more times than he could count, and who, until that afternoon on the football pitch, had seemed more or less unapproachable, was with him at his apartment building.
And she was smiling. And talking to him.
The door opened. Barney’s thick white eyebrows pulled in a look of curiosity.
“This is Abby Grover,” Matt said. “She’s something of a plant expert, and I told her about your tomatoes.”
To his credit, Barney didn’t give any indication the two of them had spent a few evenings talking about Abby. “Did you also tell her that the spots weren’t my fault?”
Abby spoke before Matt could. “In my experience, tomato spots are seldom the gardener’s fault.”
“That’s the truth.” Barney emphasized the declaration with a quick nod of his head. “If you can save these stubborn plants, you’ll be an expert in my book.”
Abby’s smile was sincere—not the fake, patronizing smile too many people gave the elderly. Everything about her felt that way—honest, real.
They passed through Barney’s flat, past furniture he’d probably had for as long as Matt and Abby had been alive. Matt had only been inside Barney’s place a couple times, but it was always neat and tidy. Barney was that way with his garden as well. The spots on his plants probably bothered him most because it wasn’t up to his standards.
“I put the plants over here that have the problem,” Barney said as they reached the balcony. “I didn’t want them too close to the others, just in case it’s insects.”
Abby knelt in front of the plants, looking closely at them. “You were smart to move them. I think it is insects.” She carefully turned over one of the leaves, eying the underside. She looked up at Barney. “Do you have a sheet of paper and some kind of magnifying lens?”
Barney nodded eagerly. “I have a lens for reading the morning paper.”
“Perfect.”
He made his way back inside.
Matt sat on the ground next to her. “What do you need the paper for?”
“I’m going to write the bugs a letter, asking them nicely to leave Barney’s plants alone.”
She spoke so seriously, without even the smallest twitch to her lips. For just a moment Matt didn’t realize she was joking. Then her smile spread. She had a great smile.
“That’s how professionals deal with insects?” He let his amusement and doubt show.
“Insects are very polite. They wouldn’t ever, you know, talk smack at a soccer match or anything like that.”
He chuckled. “You had a few choice things to say as well.”
Her smile grew to a grin. “Mostly because we were far better than the rest of them.”
“We were, weren’t we?” He hadn’t had that much fun playing football in a very long time. “We play almost every Sunday. You should come.”
The smallest show of a blush touched the skin behind her freckles. “Maybe I will.”
I hope so.
“And thanks, again, for doing this for Barney. He doesn’t get out much anymore, and these plants are his life, just about.”
Her gaze went to the sliding door and the living room beyond. “Does he have any family?”
“His wife died a few years ago, and his children all live out of state. He and I sort of adopted each other—I don’t have any family here either.”
She looked back at him again. “That’s really sweet.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say. The so
ftness in her brown eyes made it impossible to think at all.
Barney rejoined them, handing Abby the paper and magnifying lens. She shook a leaf over the paper then studied the tiny specks that landed on it with the lens. The specks moved.
“Spider mites.” She folded the paper over the bugs, pressing it tightly. “Do any of your other plants seem infested?”
She and Barney spent the next half hour meticulously going through his entire balcony garden. Matt didn’t know enough to offer any insights, but he thought he did a good job following directions and retrieving the things they asked for.
After checking the last of Barney’s plants, Abby broke the bad news. “The mites probably arrived on one of your plants, but there are signs of them on all of them now.”
Barney dropped onto his stool, looking frustrated and tired. “Am I going to lose the whole garden?”
Abby immediately and emphatically shook her head. “We got this, Barney. We totally got this.”
“You can save the plants?”
“I won’t give up on them if you don’t,” Abby promised.
A look of relief crossed Barney’s face. That garden really did mean everything to him. The plants were almost like family. Somehow, after only knowing him for a few moments, Abby had figured that out.
She smiled at the old man. If Matt hadn’t been half gone on her already, that single moment would have done it.
“I have something at home that will help a lot with the mites.” Abby stood, wiping soil and bits of crumpled leaves from her hands. “Let me run back to my place and shower—I’ve spent the afternoon showing a bunch of boys how to play soccer—and I’ll be back in, say, an hour. Does that work?”
Barney took one of her hands in both of his. “This is very kind of you, Abby.”
“I have loved plants since I was six years old,” she said. “I would never let a garden as beautiful as this one get eaten by mites. Not ever.”
“Will you let me treat you to dinner when you get back? You and Matt both?”
She glanced Matt’s direction. He could see the question in her eyes, so he nodded. Turning Barney down would hurt his feelings.
“That is a deal,” Abby said.
Matt walked her to the door. “I’ll see you in an hour, then, I guess.”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
He watched her disappear down the corridor. Barney came and stood next to him.
“Did you know that I met my wife at a nursery?” Barney said. “She loved to garden. Loved it. I’d never grown a plant in all my life.”
“Then why were you at a nursery?”
“I was buying a potted plant for my mother for Mother’s Day.” Barney’s expression grew wistful. “Francis convinced me to buy a fuchsia instead of an iris. And over the next forty years, she taught me everything she knew about plants.”
Matt set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I wish I could have known your wife. She sounds remarkable.”
“She was.” Barney looked up at him, an earnestness in his expression. “When a man meets a remarkable woman, he doesn’t let her slip away.”
Matt knew what Barney was getting at. “Abby’s pretty great, isn’t she?”
Barney nodded. “Hold on to that one.”
“I’ll do my best.” But would his best be enough?
Chapter Seven
Over the next weeks, Abby saw Matt—she discovered he preferred to be called Matt instead of Matthew—more often than she saw her own sister. An evening here or there, plus Saturdays, belonged to wedding preparations, but the rest of her evenings and Sundays were spent with Barney and Matt. She didn’t think she was necessarily a lonely person, but having those two to spend her time with filled a hole in her life she hadn’t realized was there.
She learned all about Barney’s late wife, how they’d met and fallen in love over plants. He taught her a few things about caring for fuchsia, his wife’s favorite flower. Fuchsias hung in baskets all along his roofline.
They saved the tomatoes from mites, trimmed back some overgrown rosemary, and, using Abby’s own formula rose food, had his Sunflare roses blooming to perfection. And while she enjoyed every minute of that, and came to adore Barney like a wonderful mixture of grandfather and friend, Matt somehow managed to be an even better part of those evenings and Sundays together.
She found out he talked with his mom a couple of times a week, not in a mamma’s boy kind of way, but simply because they liked each other and got along. More impressive even than that, he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed of being close to his family. Abby liked that. A lot.
Matt wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and help with the gardening. Though he didn’t have Barney’s experience or Abby’s expertise, he knew his way around soil and plants and gardening tools, and he was a quick learner. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at home with two people. Even her own family grew quickly tired of her obsession with flora.
For dinner the Sunday night exactly one month since Abby had begun frequenting Matt and Barney’s apartment building, she and Matt introduced Barney to Indian food. Much to the dear man’s surprise, he liked it. After a leisurely, casual meal, Barney made his way back to his own apartment, tired from a day of gardening.
“I have a feeling he’ll be sending me out for coconut korma on a regular basis now.” Matt smiled as he dropped to the sofa. “I would, of course, have to reward myself with a little dhansak for my troubles.”
“Of course.” Abby pulled her feet onto the couch next to her. “And if I was here, what you bring for me?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Channa masala.”
Abby was impressed, but not surprised. Matt noticed little things like that. “What if we were having Thai food?”
“Chicken Pad Thai.”
Not bad. “What do I like on my hamburgers?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nice try, Abby, but you don’t eat hamburgers. No red meat for you.”
Not bad at all. Her eyes darted to the entry table near the door, where her keys sat by her phone. “What is on my key ring?”
He turned his head toward the door. Abby moved quickly, scooting over so she knelt right next to him and covered his eyes with her hand. “No peeking. We’ll see just how observant you really are, Matthew Carlton. What is on my key ring?”
“Your keys.”
“Very funny.”
He flashed her his brilliant smile. Even with her hand lamely covering his eyes, that smile was dazzling. She thought she’d become immune to it over the past weeks. Apparently not.
Completely unaware of how distracting the lower half of his face really was, Matt answered her trivia question with her hands still covering his eyes. “You have on your key ring a brass-colored bauble in the shape of the state of Oregon.”
That was absolutely correct. She dropped her hand away. “How did you know that?”
His deep green eyes met hers. “Why are you always surprised that I notice things about you?”
“Because you notice everything.” She wasn’t creeped out or worried—Matt was a nice guy, a good guy in a way she’d long ago decided didn’t exist anymore. “It’s like you’re...”
“Paying attention?” he finished for her. His smile tipped with amusement. “That surprises you?”
When she really thought about it, the attention he paid her was surprising. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had really noticed her. Dirk had only ever taken note of what she wore or did or said when she fell short of his expectations.
“Most people don’t notice the girl with dirt under her nails,” she said. “I work an unimportant job at a hole-in-the-wall nursery.” She was embarrassing herself, pointing out her shortcomings and yet could seem to stop the list from pouring out of her. “Why would anyone pay attention to—”
“Abby.” He set a hand gently on the side of her face.
Her heart jumped to her throat, pounding and pulsing. Heat poured into h
er cheeks. Matt had never touched her like that before. They’d brushed hands or arms a few times while working in Barney’s garden. They’d high-fived after scoring a goal during Sunday afternoon soccer matches. But he hadn’t ever touched her that way, deliberately and affectionately.
He said her name again, but slower and softer. He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb slowly brushing along her cheek.
Abby tried to hide the way his touch upended her. If he had any idea how quickly and fully she was falling for him, he would have all the ammunition he needed to break her heart. She wasn’t ready to feel that kind of vulnerability again.
“If you keep doing that, I’ll think you’re about to kiss me.” She tried to keep her tone light and joking. She could tell she didn’t entirely succeed.
“Maybe I am about to kiss you.”
Her heart flipped over. Every ounce of air slid out of her lungs. She couldn’t look away. Matt moved closer. She met him halfway. The space that separated them jumped and crackled with energy. Anticipation tiptoed over Abby’s skin.
I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Her mind warned her not to get in any deeper, but her heart pounded too loudly. She wanted Matt to kiss her, she’d wanted it for weeks, though she’d never admitted it to herself.
Why wasn’t he moving? Was he waiting? Had he changed his mind already? Abby lowered her eyes. If he was about to reject her before they even had anything between them, she didn’t want to have to see it on his face.
“I probably should go,” she whispered quickly.
But he didn’t drop his hand from her face. “Please don’t.”
She met his gaze again. “But you—”
“—promised my dad years ago to never kiss a girl without giving her ample opportunity to tell me to take myself off.”
He was waiting for her? “I didn’t tell you to take off.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “I noticed.”
Matt closed the gap, his mouth brushing over hers. Abby set her palms against his chest. All thoughts of past heartache and disappointment and vulnerability fled from her mind. There was nothing in that moment but him and that kiss. Warmth spread through her like a slow-burning fire.
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection Page 28