Page 18

ISLA

The flowers were gorgeous. Don’t get me wrong. But when Case sat with my mom and made her laugh? I could’ve kissed the man.

I already wanted to–who wouldn’t, he’s gorgeous inside and out–but seeing that spark in Mom’s eyes again meant so much more than anything he could ever give me and whatever he had planned for our date.

If he hadn’t already won me over in Anchorage all those months ago, today would’ve confirmed it. Then again, every single time we see and speak to one another I feel myself falling harder for the man. And all of this before an official first date!

All of the nervous butterflies that were fluttering around in my stomach all day have flown the coop—or more like swarmed.

I have no worries, I’m not anxious or self-conscious.

I’m just excited to spend the afternoon and evening together.

No mom, no best friend, and none of his ranch family. Just us.

Opening the truck door, Case holds out his hand and helps me into my seat, before shooting me a grin and shutting me inside.

Once he has slid behind the steering wheel himself, he starts the engine and hooks his arm behind my seat, giving me a nice view of his bicep as he expertly reverses us out of the driveway. But instead of turning toward town, he starts driving the opposite way.

“Are we headin’ out of town?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“We are. Not too far though. I’d gotten some ideas from Birdie and my brothers, but when Wyatt told me about this place, I knew that was where we should go.”

“You’re sayin’ this date was a bit of a group project then?”

“Yeah,” he says, a blush spreading up his cheeks. “I wanted to get it right.”

“I like that.”

His head jerks. “Yeah?”

“Yep. Means you wanted to make it special. Believe me, I appreciate that.”

“I wanted somethin’ different. Memorable, you know? No pressure like a restaurant dinner and no nosy locals watchin’ us like hawks and gettin’ in our business so much that we don’t enjoy ourselves. It’ll just be us and some strangers in a field.”

I reach out and cover his hand, warm tingles bursting under my skin where we touch. “Wait. Strangers in a field? Is this one of those strange UFO sightin’ tours”

His expression morphs from confused to curious. “That exists?”

My shoulders bounce. “I don’t know. Never been on one. But I imagine they do. Especially out in the Alaskan wilderness. Where else are the aliens goin’ to visit? Everyone thinks it’s Area 51 but I’m bettin’ on the frozen North.”

A wry smile takes over his lips. “Sorry to disappoint, but we’re goin’ to an orchard, not a possible UFO landin’ site,” he replies, making me smirk.

“They had an early harvest of Haskap berries and have opened their gates for some public pickin’ and are puttin’ on a drive-up movie afterward.

I thought it would be somethin’ new for both of us. ”

“It will be. Not only have I never done it before, but I’ll also be doin’ it with you,” I say, squeezing his hand and loving the way he grumbles under his breath when I pull it away.

“How’s the tree farm doin’ after the donkey’s antics?” I ask.

He groans. “I swear that animal is goin’ to be the death of me.”

“I thought he only crumpled some leaves?”

“He did. But a lot of work went into not only gettin’ to the plantin’ stage but puttin’ them in the ground too. It’s my contribution to the ranch, so I’m a little protective,” he says.

I smile, touched by just how much he cares. “I get that. Luckily you saw it happenin’ and were able to stop it.”

“True, and it did lead to another clue from Gramps–well, we think so, anyway,” he replies quizzically.

“What did you find?”

Case arched a brow. “Did Birdie not tell you?”

“Nope.”

“There were some initials scratched into the bark of the big tree in the field. Since none of us remember seein’ them there before, we had an idea to look up the family tree we found under the floorboards.”

“Now you have to tell me,” I say. “Did you find out who it was?”

A slow-growing smirk tugs at his lips. “Birdie was right,” he murmurs.

I frown. “About what?”

“You like a good mystery.”

“Oh yeah. I read them and if there’s a real life one, I try solvin’ it. I listen to true crime podcasts too.”

His eyes widen before they warm, crinkling at the sides. “I used to do that back home—in San Francisco, I mean. It gave me somethin’ to focus on when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Some of them are wild, right?”

“For sure. Did you know some cases have been cracked wide open because of amateur detectives puttin’ clues together that somehow got missed?” he continues.

“It’s crazy. But also, so good.” Then I realize how that sounds and snort. “Well, not good obviously?—.”

His answering laugh wraps around me like a warm blanket. “I know what you mean, beautiful.”

“Back to your family mystery though…”

“We worked out that HC must be for Henley Cooper, our great great grandfather—Ridley’s grandfather—and the MW we think is a woman called Marion Abigail. There was no family name listed for her though.”

“Marion Wilson used to live on the mountain. She’s Derrick’s sister, the middle child of the five of them. She left town maybe five years ago. Haven’t seen her since, though that’s not surprisin’ since we hardly ever see any of the Wilsons.”

Case’s eyes flash as he quickly glances my way before returning to the road ahead. “We had a feelin’ the W stood for Wilson. Not sure the Marion you’re thinkin’ of is the one whose initials are carved into our tree though.”

“True,” I giggle before leaning forward in my seat and dropping my voice to a whisper. “But it does sound like you’ve discovered a possible Timber Falls scandal?”

Case’s smile is breathtaking. “We might have. It’s still a big maybe though. There’s still a lot we don’t know. But I’m invested now.”

“You and me both, curious.”

He chuckles. “Was hopin’ you’d say that. I might have volunteered to check out the town records to see if they can shed more light on the situation.”

“You want me to help?” I say, not hiding my surprise.

“Of course. Us inquisitive, curious types have to stick together. Besides, a little birdie told me?—”

I snort. “You mean an actual Birdie?”

“Yes,” he muses. “She suggested it might be a good second date.”

Rubbing my chin, I eye him up and down, dragging it out until I see his jaw tick nervously. “You’re already plannin’ our next date? That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?”

“What? No… I mean…” he splutters. My snicker earns narrowed eyes and a sigh of relief. “You had me goin’ there for a minute.”

“Good,” I say, puffing out my chest and grinning widely. “Got to keep you on your toes.”

“Mmm. You definitely do that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Case pulls into a long driveway, the sign on the fence saying, ‘Honeyberry Farm’. Another five minutes down the track, we come to a stop in a makeshift parking lot behind a big white barn.

“Maisie Martin, nice to meet you. Honeyberry Farm is mine–mine and my husband’s, anyway. I’ll be your hostess today.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you,” Case says, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Y’all here for the whole shebang? Or just some pickin’?” the very friendly farmer asks.

Case looks at me with a lopsided grin and a slow arching brow. “You in for the whole shebang , beautiful?”

I can’t help but match his smile. “I think I’d be up for that. Is a first date a first date unless you do the whole shebang?”

“Oh, a first date,” Maisie beams. “I love that. That’s a special event that needs celebratin’. Have you just met?”

A snort escapes me. “Would you believe that we first met eight months ago and didn’t have a way to contact each other?

I thought I’d never see this handsome man again.

” Maisie’s expression morphs with confusion so I decide to give her the quick version of our story.

“But wouldn’t you know it, my best friend and his big brother are gettin’ married, so thankfully we have been able to reconnect. ”

“Wow. That’s one of those unbelievable slidin’ door romance stories you hear about in magazines.

You know the ones. ‘An alien impregnated me’ or ‘my father’s childhood best friend’s brother’s son is my soulmate’.

Those crazy tales.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I stare at Case, completely dumbfounded by the direction of this conversation.

Did she say aliens? What are the chances?

Case smirks and squeezes my hand, a silent ‘I’ve got this’ signal if ever there was one. “I like to think it’ll be a great story to tell our grandkids one day. Don’t you think, beautiful?”

Did he just say what I think he did? Grandkids?

Maisie claps her hands together with a delighted laugh.

“You’ve got a good man here, young lady.

Don’t let me keep you two lovebirds. We’ll be startin’ the movie later once everyone has finished their pickin’.

That’ll give y’all enough time, so grab your aprons, rakes, and buckets and go find you some Haskaps.

If you follow me, we’ll get you kitted up. ”

“Much appreciated, Maisie. Lead the way,” Case says. He releases my hand and steps close, pressing his palm to the small of my back, giving me goosebumps and making those butterflies flutter all over again.

“You OK, beautiful?” he asks quietly, turning his head my way.

“I’m good… great .” My voice cracks a little so I clear my throat, wondering why everything this man does has such an effect on me. That’s for future me to think about—or ask Birdie about—because maybe these Cooper brothers possess some strange voodoo magic tricks that make women swoon.

Until then, we’ve got berries to pick.

“Well, now. Looks like you two had some fun out there,” Maisie says when we trundle back to the barn a few hours later. Her lips twitch as she points to our hands. “Guess you didn’t get the memo about handlin’ the berries with care.”

Case and I look down at our hands and laugh before shrugging back at the farmer. “At least it’s not our mouths.”