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CHAPTER TWELVE

Declan

A few days later, I parked in front of The Dirty Hoe. Cash would start work on The Roost in two days—the first opening in his schedule—and I wanted to clear that overgrown path of brush and weeds, plus ensure it stayed cleared once I had.

The Dirty Hoe looked like an overstuffed garden shed attached to a greenhouse—a mix of the quirky and functional just like its owners. A wheelbarrow planted with a brightly flowering hibiscus sat just outside the door. Three sets of wind chimes dangled from an awning: silver metal fish, glass butterflies, and little brass birds with bells.

I ducked as I reached for the door, having walked straight into them enough times to have learned my lesson. As if the wind chimes weren’t enough, more bells jangled to announce my entry.

“Be right there,” Mimsy called from the vicinity of the greenhouse. I recognized her voice because she was the sweet one.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

And that would be the other owner, Mimsy’s twin, Pipsy. She scowled at me, her crinkled face scrunching up. “Weren’t you just here the other day? What do you take us for, some sort of enabler?”

I bit down on a smile. Pipsy was obviously my favorite, but I couldn’t let her know that.

“I’ve got a legitimate reason today.”

“What’s the reason now? You’ve already practically bought me out of fertilizer this year.”

I chuckled. “So sorry to keep your store running on a profit.”

She scoffed. “As if we do this for money. We’d have closed ages ago.”

I didn’t doubt she was right. This was the kind of passion business that folks ran as a side gig when they retired. Something they enjoyed that made them feel useful after their hard-working years were behind them.

I wanted to be like Mimsy and Pipsy when I grew up. For now, I was stuck running a B&B.

But soon you’ll be running numbers instead…

The idea wasn’t exciting, but it was comforting. I knew how to deal with data much better than guests who demanded my interest and attention whenever they wanted it.

I was a little like Pipsy that way.

“Well?” she said, sounding impatient. “What is it you’re shopping for today? I’ve got my show on in the back, and I was busy doing actual work before you showed your grumpy face.”

“Ha, you’re one to talk.”

“My face is lovely and cheerful,” she deadpanned, her lips upturned in a saccharine-sweet smile.

Mimsy swept in then, all genuine warmth and grace, completely her twin’s opposite—aside from the fact they shared identical DNA. “Declan, dearie! So good to see you again.”

Her short silvery braids sported bright pink ribbons to match her lipstick, and she wore a bright floral muumuu in place of Pipsy’s country-style overalls. But just like her sister, her fingers were gritty with potting soil. The sign of any good gardener.

“What can we help you with?” Mimsy asked. “You don’t need more mulch, surely?”

Okay, maybe I’d overdone it with the gardening supply runs this year, but I had a very large property to maintain.

And maybe I’d expanded my vegetable garden just a smidge and moved some hydrangea bushes to an area where they got more shade, plus I’d planted some new azaleas to better frame the entryway…

And maybe you really are addicted to gardening.

It had started as a way to get out of the house more and—yes—avoid my B&B guests when I needed a breather. The landscaping had been a mess when I first inherited the place, left to grow unchecked for several years while Millie wasn’t in the best of health.

But what started out as a chore had blossomed into love. There was just something about working outdoors, smelling the fresh scent of soil and new growth, that made me feel more alive, too.

“I’m clearing an overgrown walkway,” I told Mimsy. “I need a weed barrier, maybe some landscape fabric to put down along the edges and cover with decorative rocks?”

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing,” Mimsy said. “Follow me.”

I could have found what I needed on my own, but Mimsy loved to be helpful. I let her explain the types of weed barriers, along with half a dozen suggestions about how to shore up my path if it was going to have regular use.

She made a good point about putting down gravel or pavers to stand up to regular use. I’d add it to the list of improvements I was making with Cash. Mimsy was so excited about the path, I decided not to mention the greenhouse plans. She might expire on the spot, and then Pipsy really wouldn’t like me.

Twenty minutes later, I escaped Mimsy’s clutches with my purchases and made a quick stop by the grocery store.

My phone rang on the drive back to the B&B, but I didn’t have my Bluetooth on, so I let it go to voicemail. When I got inside, I put away the groceries and changed into some work clothes to head over to The Roost. The place was a mess, and I didn’t want Cash to waste his time with cleanup.

It was nearing six, but this time of year it stayed light until around nine o’ clock, so I had plenty of light. I grabbed cleaning supplies, along with a broom and dustpan, and headed across the yard.

My phone rang just as I got started. Shoot, I’d forgotten about that missed call. My sister’s name flashed up on the Caller ID. I rolled my eyes. Of course she was calling again.

She’d texted me almost immediately after the birthday party chat to say, Please tell me you’re going to rob that cradle!

There’d been a string of suggestive emojis.

I’d pretended I didn’t know what she meant. I had enough hangups about Cash without thinking about our age difference. Honestly, that had barely registered with me. Maybe because Cash was far more experienced than me with romantic entanglements.

Or at least, sexual ones.

I was tempted to ignore Monroe’s call, but then she’d really give me hell. I propped the phone on the counter and hit the Speaker button. “Hey, I’m busy.”

“Busy doing that gorgeous man all but drooling over you?”

I sighed. Well, I’d walked right into that one. “No, I’m cleaning out The Roost. Cash”—she drew her breath in, expecting news she would not get—“is starting repairs out here in a couple days.”

“Because he’s good with his hands?” she asked hopefully.

“Monroe,” I growled. “Grow up.”

She snickered. “Never!”

At my unimpressed silence, she relented. “Okay, so he’s helping you with repairs at the B&B. Tell me more about how that happened?”

My stomach fluttered as the memory of that night flooded back. Cash stepping close, eyes pleading. Kiss me.

He’d been so warm and solid when he hugged me. That was the most difficult part of pushing Cash away. The affection that poured off him was like rays of sunlight, and I was a plant left in the shade too long.

But even if Cash could accept what I could offer—prickly thorns and all—I was leaving Swallow Cove soon. There was no reason to start anything now.

I pushed the broom across the floor, sweeping the trash into piles, while I filled Monroe in on the more detailed plans Cash and I had made for the B&B.

“A greenhouse,” she said when I’d paused for breath. “Wow. That’s…”

“Ambitious?” I said with a chuckle. “Aunt Millie always wanted one.”

She hummed. “I bet you’d love one too.”

“Well, yes, but it’s not for me.”

“Right.” Her tone was airy.

“I’m selling the B&B.”

“I know.”

I paused, brow furrowing. “Then why don’t you sound like you believe me?”

“I believe that’s your plan,” she said. “As for what will actually happen? I guess we’ll see.”

Well, that wasn’t infuriatingly cryptic or anything.

My phone beeped. “I’ve got a call. I should go.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s Cash,” she teased. “Ready to be handy.”

“Stop it,” I said sternly.

“Never. I live to rile you up.”

I leaned the broom against the wall and clicked the call over to the other line—only to discover it was Nathan. Shit. He’d texted me twice this week already about the development deal I’d unofficially agreed to before Cash convinced me to try another plan.

I wasn’t ready to cut off this avenue of possibility—not until I was sure that Cash and I could actually pull off all the repairs this place needed—so I needed to stall.

“Hey, Nate, it’s late to be calling, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” he said lightly. “You know I go on all cylinders until nearly midnight.”

“Right. Yeah. I guess I’d forgotten about that.”

He chuckled. “You’ll remember soon enough when you’re back in the city. That backwoods place has you acting like a senior citizen.”

I winced. First my sister pointing out my age gap with Cash, and now Nathan calling me old. I was really winning today.

“I’m actually busy with something,” I said, shaking out a trash bag noisily.

“What are you doing, making a kill room?” He laughed. “Maybe I should call you Dexter.”

“Yeah, obviously that’s the most common use for plastic and not trash bags,” I said dryly.

“Well, this will only take a minute. I just wanted to see if you got that paperwork I faxed over.”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“You haven’t looked at it?”

“Well…”

“Declan! These guys won’t wait forever. It’s great you gave us a yes, but we need to get all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted. This is a big project.”

“Right, I know,” I said, stomach squirming with guilt. “I just want to be sure before I sign anything.”

“What do you mean?” His voice sharpened. “I thought you were sure.”

“It’s a big decision. I said yes to considering a deal, but there’s no taking it back once I sign.”

“I know. There’s also no moving forward until you do.” His voice took on an edge. “I vouched for you. I went out on a limb. Don’t screw me, man.”

His vehemence had unsettled me.

“I never asked for that.”

“I know,” he said, “but we’re friends.”

“I don’t want to yank you around, but this is too important to rush. If you can’t wait?—”

“I didn’t say that,” he said hurriedly. “Of course we can wait a reasonable amount of time. A few days?”

I exhaled. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t want to hold up a project, and it sounds like these guys are in a hurry.”

“A couple weeks then,” Nate said. “I’ll explain you’re having a lawyer examine the paperwork. It’s smart to be thorough.”

I hadn’t said I was doing that, but it was a good explanation. Still, I didn’t want Nathan to pay for my indecision. “If the developer needs to move on and consider other locations, I’ll understand.”

“Nah, I’ll smooth it over. No worries.”

“But, Nate, I can’t give you a guarantee. You understand that, right?”

“You’re a smart guy, Declan. You’re my numbers guy for a reason. You do all the analysis you want. In the end, you’re going to see this is the right move. That, I can guarantee. ”