Page 10 of Evergreen Desires (Wildheart Chronicles #1)

Looking out the window, I could see Will tinkering with my car near the barn.

Beau was nowhere in sight. I found myself glancing toward the greenhouse area, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

This internal struggle was exhausting. Here I was, with an attractive guy who openly admitted his interest in me, yet I was too broken and untrusting to fully let him in.

Damn it. He’d rescued me, offered me a place to stay, and even encouraged me to snoop around if it made me feel better.

But I couldn’t bear the thought of trusting someone else, not so soon.

He seemed to want to take care of everything for me.

What if he was just as controlling as Declan had been?

. Although now I had nothing left to control.

“Let’s see what Will has to say,” I mumbled, turning toward the bedroom.

I headed back to grab my camera, figuring I could get a few landscape shots while I was at it.

The trees out here looked like they belonged on a postcard—mist curling through the branches, the light slanting low and gold.

Maybe I could even make a little money off some of them if they turned out decent .

I’d already done a little poking around—with Beau’s blessing, surprisingly; hadn’t expected him to be so chill about it.

The medicine cabinet had been boring—just an old bottle of eucalyptus oil, and a tin of salve that smelled vaguely herbal.

No prescriptions. No secrets. His closet was just as ordinary: rows of flannels in warm, woodsy colors, worn jeans, a well-used denim jacket, and a few hats tucked into a wire basket.

There was a pair of boots by the door, scuffed but clearly cared for.

No skeletons, no surprises. Just a guy who lived close to the land and didn’t make a mess of things.

It wasn’t flashy, but it was oddly comforting. Like the man himself—uncomplicated on the surface, but there was something steady about him I couldn’t quite name.

Maybe Will could be part of my little investigative adventure.

Out the back door, I strolled casually along the path toward the barn where Will was diligently working. He had the hood of my car propped open, and he was halfway under it. "Hope it's not too messed up," I said, causing him to jump slightly.

"Hey, there you are. How are you doing today? Get some sleep?" Will asked, his tone friendly and inviting.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you. It was definitely a long couple of days," I replied, a tinge of shyness in my voice, unsure where his line of questioning was headed. “And thanks for taking a look at my car. Beau mentioned that you're good with cars. ”

"Oh, did Beau talk about me?" Will looked up at me, grinning mischievously.

"Well, he mentioned that you're his best friend, and you've known each other since childhood. He also said that you're the one who keeps his old Jeep running," I said, my voice trailing off slightly.

"Glad to hear that. Beau tends to be the strong, quiet type.

Doesn't say much, at least until he met you," Will remarked, his smile never fading as he diverted his attention back to the car.

"Yes, we've been friends since grade school.

His family even took me in during our high school years when I was kicked out by my old man.

I just never really left after that. I actually still live here on the other side of the farm, in their old family cabin. "

"What? Why did you get kicked out?" I asked, curiosity piqued by his candidness.

Will wiped his hands on a rag, grease smudged across his forearm, and leaned over the open hood of my car.

“Dad didn’t want a queer son,” he said casually, like it was just another fact, same as a busted gasket or a loose belt. But there was a hitch in his voice—quick, almost invisible—like the words had come easier from years of practice, not because they didn’t still sting.

He tightened a bolt, then paused, squinting at the engine.

“This town’s small. Real small. Not exactly brimming with options if you're not straight. Beau and I…” He exhaled, slow and steady. “We kind of clung to each ot her, growing up. Not for romance—just survival. It helped, having someone who got it.”

He gave a quick shrug and reached for another tool, the clink of metal on metal filling the quiet.

“Even now, apart from a couple teenagers starting to figure themselves out, I don’t think there are any other gay guys in Armsville. Just me and Beau.”

He said it lightly, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just something he’d learned to live with. But I saw the way his shoulders hunched forward as he leaned back under the hood—just a little. The way he didn’t quite meet my eyes.

He wasn’t bitter. But he wasn’t untouched by it, either.

"So, you and Beau were never a couple?"

"Ha, no, not really. There was one time in the showers in the locker room after football practice, but that was just a silly, touchy-feely thing that went nowhere and ended with both of us laughing at ourselves."

"That was a lot of information to share with someone you just met," I remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Beau mentioned this morning that you have some trust issues. I’m just trying to be honest and upfront. I'm guessing you've been burned recently?" Will's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.

"You could say that. I'm still dealing with it. He didn't really leave me with many options," I confessed, looking off into the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a deer near a row of trees. Without thinking, I raised my camera and captured a quick picture .

“Photographer?” Will asked, his attention snapping fully to me.

I hesitated, fingers brushing the strap of my camera like it might give me the words I didn’t quite have. “Sort of.”

He waited, clearly expecting more.

“It was a gift,” I added, glancing down at the camera. “From my mom. Just before she passed.” The words came quieter than I meant them to, and I felt the old familiar ache tug at my ribs. “She always said I had an eye for it. Believed in me even when I didn’t.”

Will nodded, respectful. Patient.

“I took a few classes,” I continued, more carefully now. “Nothing official. Just community college stuff. Was working nights mostly—waiting tables, bar shifts. You know, the classic ‘struggling artist’ cliché.”

A smile flickered at my lips, but it didn’t stick.

“My ex didn’t really… get it,” I said, my voice cooling. “Thought it was a waste of time. Money. Said if it didn’t come with a paycheck, it wasn’t a real job.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “So yeah… I dropped the classes. Put the camera away for a while. Figured maybe it wasn’t in the cards.”

There was a pause. Will didn’t say anything, and I appreciated that more than he probably knew.

I looked out toward the trees just beyond the barn doors, where the light was starting to shift. “Lately though… I don’t know. Feels like maybe I want to try again. Even if it’s just for me this time. ”

"Don't let other people decide your dreams for you.

You need to make your dreams a reality," Will advised.

I sensed a hint of personal experience behind his words.

"I think you'll find some interesting things in the woods here.

Things you can capture through your lens.

If anyone can do it, it's you," Will added, his voice filled with mystery.

What could be lurking in these woods that only I could capture?

Returning to the topic, I saw my opening and took it. “So… this is both a Christmas tree farm and a pot farm?”

I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear how he’d explain it.

Will smirked, straightening up from where he’d been checking a hose line. “Yeah. Kinda wild, right? It started out as a Christmas tree farm—still is, technically. One of the biggest in the area, actually. Been in Beau’s family forever.”

He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned back against the side of the barn.

“We both worked here in high school. You know—planting trees, hauling them around during the holidays, pretending we weren’t freezing our asses off.”

A laugh slipped out of me, and he grinned.

“Anyway, Beau took over after his dad retired and headed off to the Georgia coast. That was, what… ten years ago now?” Will scratched his jaw, thinking. “Yeah, about that.”

His gaze drifted toward the greenhouses near the edge of the property. “A few years after that, he started building those. One at a time. Turned into a full cannabis operation before anyone around here really knew how serious he was about it. Now it’s… well, it’s doing pretty damn well.”

There was a quiet pride in his voice—nothing boastful, just earned.

“He doesn’t talk it up much,” Will added. “But trust me, it’s a big deal.”

"Really? What makes it so special?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.

Will gave a half-smile, like he was trying to downplay it but couldn’t quite hide the pride in his voice.

“Well, for starters—we’ve taken home a few of the top awards in the state.” He glanced toward the greenhouses again. “Not bad for a couple guys growing weed in the shadow of the Olympics, huh?”

He reached for a wrench, tightening something without looking. “Honestly, most people think Eastern Washington’s where all the good growing happens. Out here? Between the rain and the soil, it’s tricky. But Beau figured it out.”

I raised a brow. “Figured it out how?”

Will grinned. “Let’s just say we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves. Custom strains. A little… family magic.”

“Magic?”

He shrugged, not giving anything else away. “Trade secret.”

I laughed. “Right. Of course.”

“But yeah,” he added, straightening up and stretching his back. “We get more per plant than just about anyone else. Never short on supply. Word kind of got around. ”

"I know it's legal, but how legal is it really?" I couldn’t help but ask.

Will paused for a moment, his gaze meeting mine directly.

"Beau is a man of high ethics in a business that can sometimes lack ethics.

" I let his words sink in. Beau was highly ethical.

Got it. "Yes, we're 100% legal," Will continued, moving back under the hood of my car.

"It's highly regulated, with lots of rules.

But there are always external forces trying to make a quick buck or run some scheme.

And, of course, local politics sometimes get involved. "

"I saw someone at the diner. He seemed self-important and sounded a bit sketchy on a call I overheard.

I told myself not to trust him. But then the police chief, Mat, mentioned it yesterday, and he didn't seem bothered by the cannabis operation, so it must not be a big deal here," I shared, trying to shift the conversation away from that topic.

"Oh, you met Mat! Mateo. What did you think?" Will's head popped up from under the hood, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the police chief.

"He was really nice. He helped me out yesterdaywhen I discovered my ex had drained my bank account.

Mat paid for my breakfast while I was frozen, trying to figure out what to do.

I also ran into him at the store later. He wanted to make sure I was okay with Beau.

He must have thought he was my ex and was just looking out for me.

Oh, and he mentioned that he remembered you," I said, sharing my impressions of Mateo.

Will seemed to really be intrigued by him.

"Ah, so I made an impression on him, huh?

I felt like there might be some interest there.

Gosh, I hope so. He looks like a Latino god, a mix of police officer and rough trade.

I can't wait to find a reason to be handcuffed by him," Will replied, clearly indulging in a fantasy in his own mind. I figured it was a good time to gather more information about Beau’s relationship status.

"So, neither you nor Beau is currently in a relationship?" I asked, attempting to sound nonchalant.

"Nah, Beau has been a bit of a chronic celibate.

I honestly can't remember the last time he was involved with someone.

He just doesn't find that kind of thing appealing.

As for me, I tend to take long weekends and head into Seattle or Vancouver for a bit of club hopping and intimacy.

There just aren't many prospects here in Armsville.

Well, except for Officer Mat, hopefully," Will admitted, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

"Where's Beau?" I asked, scanning the area.

"He's out checking on the young trees in the south grove and surveying the perimeter fence." Will explained, his attention already shifting back to the car. I guessed he’d gotten bored since we stopped talking about Mateo.

"Okay, I'm going to head back inside and watch some TV before we go into town," I said, trying to wrap up the conversation .

"Sure thing. I'll let you know what I figure out with the car when I actually figure it out," Will responded, his voice muffled as he returned to his work.

"Hey, Will," I paused, waiting for him to look up. "Thanks for this little talk and the advice."

"Anytime!" Will called out, giving me a wink before getting back under the hood..