Page 19 of Marrying the Gardener (The Bachelor Brothers #3)

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First dates and fairytales.

Crimson

“Was the blindfold wholly necessary, Rose-red?” Kaleb asks, resting in the passenger seat, one of my black scarves wrapped around his head to obscure his eyes.

“Normally my dates don’t start this way.

” He hums, settling in a bit too comfortably.

“Although, actually, normally my dates don’t end this way either… ”

Date.

My first ever date with a man and not my dearest Crisis. The idea of that should probably send flitters of anticipation through me, but it doesn’t. This date has a clear purpose, and that purpose is anything but mindless frivolity.

If Kaleb is interested in becoming my permanent husband once I’m free from my family’s grasp and our business marriage is nullified, we need to know each other better—preferably in a context outside my bedroom but also without the pressure of keeping up an act.

Hence, Saturdays are for my garbage family, and Sundays can be for us.

Kaleb laces his fingers together in his lap as he murmurs, “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“Are you making innuendos right now?” I ask.

He tilts his smile away from me. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to explain them?”

He frees a small laugh. “Perhaps someday, Crimson. If you really want me to.”

I’m beginning to think I never want him to.

Sighing, I murmur, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.

My asking you on a date doesn’t mean I’m any more interested than I’ve always been.

It just means I’m giving myself a chance to learn who you are, in case I’m demisexual like you said.

If I am, we can be a totally normal couple eventually, but if I’m not, nothing changes. ”

“I know.”

“If you know, why are you so smiley?”

His smile broadens as he rests his head against the passenger side window. “ Because , Crimson. I don’t care if you’re ace or demi or whatever. I care that you want to get to know me. I care that you’ve put effort into something for me while you have so much going on already.”

“I don’t have that much going on,” I mutter, taking a turn toward Sunset’s vast and extravagant plant nursery, Sunset Gardens. “You’ve spent a week with me. You know most of what I do is sit around at home, waiting to be summoned.”

“Sit around at home, huh… Is that what you call writing condolence cards, get-well cards, birthday cards, sending flowers, thinking-about-yous, gifts, sorting invitations to parties, funerals, get-togethers? You never stop moving, Crimson. So you will have to excuse me if I understand that the time you’ve set aside for me today is, actually, important. ”

Writing cards and sending flowers and keeping up with all the emotional aspects of my father’s clients is all he’s made me good for.

It is a lot of work. But I do suppose I’ve never given it the space to be work.

Not with the way my father has treated it my entire life.

At this scale, socializing is a full-time career.

Balancing people, memorizing important details about everyone, making sure each person I come across feels seen and heard—that is hard .

But. It’s just playing girl to my father, what with all the parties and shopping and feelings involved.

It’s so necessary that he makes me do it…but it’s so unnecessary that he has never once made it sound like anything more than insipid playtime.

“Thank you, Kaleb.”

He tilts his head. “For what?”

“The mindset shift. You’re right. I do work hard.

Undermining that undermines something that matters to you, so I won’t.

I have set aside time today for you, and while my feelings have yet to change where you’re concerned, I am absolutely approaching this under a speculation that they might, and I won’t fight it if they do.

Since you claim to love me, I can understand where that matters a great deal to you. ”

His hand closes against his thigh. “I like how you do that, Crimson. Life isn’t an argument with you. You take information in, make decisions, and explain yourself—whether you agree or disagree. It’s…beautiful.”

It’s…basic communication skills?

Is this not normal? This is how Crisis and I communicate.

Notably, it is not how most everyone else communicates with me, but I am not exactly what I’d consider emotionally close with many people, so I am not entirely open in my communication beyond Crisis and now my potentially real future husband.

As I make it to the lot of Sunset Gardens, I locate a parking spot and let the car sit for a second, engine rumbling.

Sunshine fills the cab, running over Kaleb’s tan skin, his blindfold, his smile.

Anyone could logically assess his physical appeal, but I can’t argue that I enjoy the idea of talking to him today more than the moments we’ve spent together each evening for the past week.

Taking a deep breath, I turn off my vehicle.

His chin lifts. “Are we here?”

“Yes. Stay put a second. I’ll come get you.”

Opening my door, I situate my purse, then head to his side of the car, opening it and guiding him to his feet.

Once he’s standing, I turn him toward the large building across the parking lot, which is serving as both a greenhouse and the main storefront operation.

On either side of the building, with its thrown-wide glass doors, more rows and rows of plants stretch until the land dips to make way for a burbling stream that separates the gardens from an outcropping of trees.

Kaleb breathes deep and straightens. “Fertilizer. Crimson, is this Sunset Gardens?”

The peak of excitement in his tone is not lost on me. Neither is the way he figured out where we were with a single sniff. “What are you, General?” I ask.

A broad smile overcomes him. “You took me to the plant nursery?”

“You said gardening was a passion, didn’t you? I was looking for things to do, and they have an event happening today, so I figured you might enjoy it.”

Enthusiastic, he nods. “Very much. They have community events on the weekend. Classes. Pottery. Painting. Once, they hosted the pound and had an adoption event.”

I reach for his blindfold, slipping it from his head.

“Well, if you’ve already been here so many times, we can go somewhere else.

” I smirk. “Maybe horseback riding? Or, fish. Crisis has mentioned your koi pond to me. It’s the only thing about you that she’s shared, so I must assume it’s your entire personality.

Silly of me to bring you here. There’s an aquarium an hour and a half away.

” I pat him on the back. “Get back in the car. So much for surprises. Let’s go to the aquarium. ”

Before I can make it a single step away from him, he catches my wrist. “Very funny.”

Next thing I know, he is marching toward the gaping entryway and into the earthy chamber, letting his grip slide from my wrist to my hand as he tows me along. Our fingers lock before I’m prepared for such an intimate public display of affection, and I don’t know what to do with it.

“Kaleb!” a woman in a forest green apron approaches.

I jump, but I cannot free my hand. My feeble attempt results in a squeeze.

“Rita,” Kaleb greets.

“You’re back.” Rita’s attention skims to me as she curls a lock of dark hair around her finger. “And you’ve brought a sacrifice?” The woman tuts, eyeing our joined hands. “A girlfriend?”

“My wife.”

Rita’s shock hits me between the brows, just about as palpable as my own. “You’re married ? To…to…someone like this ?”

What in the world is that supposed to mean?

Rita’s lashes fan as she drops her hand from her hair and scans Kaleb.

“Wait a second. What are you wearing? Is that a polo ? Where’s your iconic plaid?

” Rita looks at me. “Ma’am, are you attempting to refine our best customer?

We’ll go under. Please.” Her hands clasp, pleading.

“Don’t take him from us. Give him back his overalls. I beg.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant when she said someone like this .

I glance at my pale green sundress and modest adornments—a simple gold necklace with matching earrings and watch. Apparently, my opinion of modest is not modest enough to grant me unaccosted entrance to this fine establishment.

“Rita.” Kaleb chuckles. “Crimson isn’t going to take gardening away from me.” He looks at me, casually brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “She wants me to plant gardens for her.”

Placing a hand to her chest, Rita exhales. “Phew. My paycheck thanks you.” She blinks. “I mean, aww , that’s so romantic. Is there anything I can help you with in your endeavors to continue supporting small businesses as the most adorable couple in the world?”

Every business in Sunset is locally owned, so pushing the small business agenda seems a little extra. I think Rita is an overachiever. She’s also funny. It almost makes me want to hire her.

Kaleb touches a chaste kiss to my forehead before saying, “We’ve come to participate in the event today. Could you get us set up?”

Rita is more than happy to get us set up with clay pots and paintbrushes at a long table central in the greenhouse.

While butterflies, bees, and other insects flit from blossom to blossom around us, I dab my brush in an acrylic white paint and dress my entire pot while I occasionally eye Kaleb’s work.

He’s painting the red clay of his pot all in black.

A perfect contrast to mine.

My gaze darts toward the other participants at the table, each group a few blessed spaces displaced from one another. The separation allows me the room to breathe.

Until a strange butterfly lands on my hand.

Eyes wide, I stare at its brown and orange wings. It’s…daytime, so it has to be a butterfly, right? Yet it looks almost like a moth?

“Wow,” Kaleb murmurs. “It likes you.”

“What is it?”

“A fiery skipper.” His warm eyes lock on mine. “It must like the fire in your hair almost as much as I do.”

Aw, that’s sweet. If utterly meaningless fluff.

“Kaleb,” I say, once the fiery skipper has skipped off to a plant it can drink from, “can we talk about…stuff?”