“Really? I wish my mom baked the way your aunts do.” Jenny took a crunchy chocolate chip cookie from the plate. “Gramma Dot will bake now and then—but only when there’s someone to supervise.” She put her cookie on her saucer and sat back in her chair. “I feel so terrible about today. This is the first time I’ve been left alone with her, and I go to the bathroom for two minutes, and this happens.” She glanced at the kitchen window.
“Jenny, this wasn’t anyone’s fault.” She reached across the table to pat Jenny’s hand.
“Still...” Jenny shrugged, staring out the window. “Everett has enough to worry about without racing home to play superhero.”
Outside, Everett was sawing away on the lowest limb. Each motion was packed with force—the grating sound echoing loudly. Even though it made perfect sense for him to have removed his long-sleeved button-down shirt to do physical labor, Rosemary wasn’t prepared for the view. The tight white undershirt hugged and shifted with his every move, revealing how fit and strong he was. And he was. The cuffs of his undershirt stretched around his biceps, and with his shirt tucked into his jeans, there was no missing the muscles in his broad back.
Oh goodness.
The tingles were back—stronger now. She pressed her eyes closed, but it didn’t help. Instead of blocking Everett out, she could feel his arms around her and see the tender expression on his handsome face when he’d swept her hair aside.
He’dlovedher—over and over, his words replayed. Learning that had somehow pulled aside the veil she’d always seen him through. Everett had been and always would be wonderful and special to her. Yet everything was different now. What she was feeling was so much...more.
Her chest deflated in on itself again, but her heart kept thundering along. She didn’t want to believe it, but...did this mean... Was she... Now that he was over her, could she be falling for him?
ICOULDN’THAVEplanned it better myself.Dot smiled down at the two goat kids sleeping on her lap, giving them each a pat. She was bone-tired but too worked up to sleep. She was pleased as punch over the day’s events. Well, not getting confused or getting stuck in that tree—but the rest of it.
Everett and Rosemary. Just as she suspected.
She’s still his seahorse, Albie.
And it tickled her pink.
But she was struggling with another question. How had she ended up in that tree? She couldn’t remember that part. One minute, she’d been with Jenny in the kitchen. The next, she was in that tree, picking apples to make an apple pie for Albie. And then Albie was there...
Her heart twisted sharply.
No. Not Albie.Everett.
She pressed a hand to her head, willing the fog to lift so she could make sense of what had happened. Try as she might, she couldn’t piece together the rest of it.
“It doesn’t matter so much, does it?” she whispered, stroking one baby goat, then the next. “Thanks to Everett, Rosemary, and Jenny, I didn’t break a hip or fall out of that tree. Everett and Rosemary are meant to be together. And neither of you have tried to eat your onesies. I’d say, overall, it was a good day.”
For now, what else could she want? She smiled, rested her head on the back of the sofa, and closed her eyes.
EVERETTCHANNELEDALLof his pent-up frustration and anger into the grating back-and-forth pull of the saw. The paintball. The mayors and politicking. The stupid newspaper headline. Gossip. Willadeene. Libby. Gramma Dot. His exhaustion.AndRosebud.
He pulled with all his might, cleaving the lower branch from the trunk of the tree. It fell to the ground. One down. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
Normally, he didn’t let things get to him. What the hell was wrong with him?
Instead of answering that, he started in on the second branch. He needed time. A whole lot of it. If he didn’t keep a firm grip on his emotions, he’d make a fool of himself all over again. Not just with Rosebud, but everything.
Rosebud.
She’d offered him comfort—that was all. Instead, he’d gotten lost in the way she fit against him. He couldn’t shake how good it had felt to have her arms around him and her head resting against his chest. He shouldn’t have buried his nose in the soft hair atop her head or breathed her in. But there was no stopping him. She still smelled sweet, like strawberries. She still used the same shampoo. Maybe that’s what kicked him in the chest and flooded him with memories and feelings he thought he’d put behind him. One minute he was fine, the next his restraint was gone and he was holding on to her for dear life.
Stupid. So damn stupid.
It would be easy to fall for Rosebud again—as easy as breathing.
Not gonna happen.
He was a grown-ass man, not some naïve kid. Loving her now was no different than loving her then. Her whole life, she’d had one goal: to make Poppa Tom and her family proud, to go off into the world to do big important things. That hadn’t changed. Rosebud was still all about the bees. She was here now, but she wouldn’t stay. She’d said as much.
He kept on sawing, the thickness of the wood resisting his efforts and jarring his shoulder.
Fine.He could use a fight. He kept on working, harder and faster until he was winded and dripping sweat. Over and over. Finally, the limb began to sag, giving him the push to finish strong. When the branch hit the ground, he propped his arm against the tree trunk and rested his forehead against it.
