Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Dawn noticed her and leaned back, her black hair in a ponytail. “There you are. Shoot. We wanted to be finished by the time you arrived. Sorry about this.”
Bianca laughed. “Don’t stop. This is perfect.”
“We’re racing the next round of rain.” Dawn pushed hair off her face. “Bianca, this is my niece, Leila. Leila, Bianca.”
Leila popped to her feet, black hair swinging into her eyes, gaze sharp and curious. She couldn’t have been more than nine and was dressed in jeans with a yellow raincoat. “Hi. You went on a date last night with Uncle Adam.” One eyebrow lifted. “Did you have fun?”
Bianca almost tripped. “Uh—yes?” She looked at Dawn.
Dawn lifted a gloved hand. “Not from me.”
Leila snorted. “Please. I heard it from Grets. Her mom told Aunt Suzie on the phone, and Grets heard them. Then she called me with the details.”
That tracked. “We had a nice dinner,” Bianca said.
“Are you going to date Uncle Adam?” Leila asked.
Bianca crouched before she could stop herself, fingers closing around a trowel. “I didn’t know you were related.”
Leila grinned. “Everyone’s related somehow. Adam’s friends with my uncles, so he counts.” She edged closer. “That means more Christmas presents.”
“Solid reasoning,” Bianca said. “What are we planting?” she asked, already digging and knowing the answer.
“Marigolds and lupine,” Dawn said. “She insists.”
Bianca nodded. “You’re right.”
Leila studied her, then gave a single, approving nod.
Bianca felt weirdly victorious. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes sink into the cool soil. The work settled her fast. Loosen. Place. Pack. Dirt under her nails. Quiet where the noise usually lived.
Dawn watched her. “You really do like this.”
“My grandmother had a garden,” Bianca said. “A real one for food and not decoration.” She pressed soil into place. “She said dirt keeps you honest.”
Leila nodded. “My grandma says the land listens.”
Bianca glanced at her. “Smart woman.” The tension in her chest loosened. The constant buzz of dealing with schedules, deadlines, and ego-driven personalities drifted into the background. “This is dangerous.” She brushed dirt off her hands.
Dawn smiled. “Because you like it.”
“Because I like it too much.” Bianca looked out over the paddocks at the white fence glowing in the sun and horses grazing on the wet ground. “I’d lose whole afternoons here.”
“But,” Dawn said.
“But I don’t get paid to dig in the dirt.” Bianca shrugged. “Marigolds don’t buy food. Plus, I like finding locations.”
Dawn handed Leila another plant. “Still worth something.”
Leila stage-whispered, “Flowers make people nicer.”
Bianca laughed. “You might be right.”
They finished the row together. Bianca stood, stretching, hands filthy, heart lighter than it had any right to be. “I worked at a garden store once,” she admitted. “Even did some planting on the side.” She smiled faintly. “Then reality happened.”
Dawn chuckled. “It usually does.”
A truck came down the drive and neared the garage fast, gravel popping under the tires as it stopped suddenly.
Adam climbed out of the driver’s side, jaw set, rain jacket half unzipped.
Hawk came around the front, already talking, irritation in his tone. “I told you to slow down.”
“I did slow down,” Adam said.
Bianca’s gaze dropped.
Blood soaked Adam’s sleeve from shoulder to elbow, dark and wet, dripping steadily from his fingertips into the dirt.
“Oh,” she said.
Dawn was already on her feet. “What happened?” she asked, calm as if he’d skinned a knuckle.
“Wire snapped,” Hawk said. “Post shifted and caught him good.”
Bianca’s gaze dropped to his arm. She sucked in a breath. “Adam.”
Adam shrugged, which made more blood run free. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Dawn said. She took his arm, turning it carefully. The cut was long and clean and deep enough that Bianca had to look away again. “You need stitches.”
Adam opened his mouth.
“You need stitches,” Dawn said again, already steering him toward the house.
Leila stared. “Is he gonna pass out?”
“No,” Dawn said. “But he is going to sit down.”
“I’m not—” Adam started.
Hawk cut in. “You are.”
Dawn pushed the door open with her shoulder. “Kitchen now, Adam. Leila, please get me some towels.”
Bianca followed them inside the comfy kitchen with its lovely yellow walls and stainless steel appliances.
Inside, Dawn pointed at a chair. “Sit. Arm on the table. Don’t argue.”
Adam sat.
“I can stitch it,” Dawn said, already reaching into a cupboard by a sliding glass door that led to a wide wooden deck.
Adam blinked. “You can what?”
“I’ve done worse,” she said. “Hold still.”
He looked at Hawk.
Hawk nodded. “She stitched my hand once. I lived.”
Adam exhaled through his nose. “All right.”
Who were these people? Okay, that was kind of badass and tough. Adam took off his shirt and Bianca swallowed. Hopefully not too loudly.
His chest was…intriguing. Hard and muscled with a couple of interesting scars. Knife wounds? Looked like it. She knew movie stars, like big ones, who’d kill for his abs. The man was all hard ridges and muscled angles. He looked much more cowboy than bartender right now. Well, much more mountain tough-guy than anything else.