Elsbeth woke to the now familiar sounds of Rose Farm. Every time she heard the name mentioned, she’d remember her mom, remember the promise that had brought her here.
It would be as if her mom truly were walking this new path with Elsbeth.
She really did need to thank Philip again for making the suggestion. Elsbeth doubted she would have come up with the idea on her own. It would have felt too…raw.
Oh, Philip.
For a long moment, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the memory of last night play through her mind.
Their dinner had been simple, pasta and homemade sauce, crusty bread, and that exquisite Thornberg wine, yet somehow more intimate than any elaborate restaurant meal she’d ever shared. The way Philip had looked at her across the candlelit table, as if memorizing every feature of her face... The fond look in his eyes when he’d spoken of his family... And the way he had listened when she spoke of her mom.
Elsbeth swallowed down the lump of emotion forming in her throat. She hadn’t meant to speak of her grief, hadn’t planned to let her guard down so completely. But something about Philip made vulnerability feel like strength rather than weakness.
“What are you doing to me, Philip Thornberg?” she whispered to the empty room.
Whatever it was, she liked it.
She rolled to her side, eyeing the clock on her nightstand. 6:17. It was early, but the sun was up, the birds were singing, and there was work to do. Elsbeth sat up, pushing her hair back from her face, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in her muscles from yesterday’s work. With a contented sigh, she reached for her mother’s flannel shirt and pulled it on. The worn fabric against her skin felt like a hug, a reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone. After pulling on a pair of well-worn jeans, she padded downstairs in bare feet.
The kitchen still carried the aroma of last night’s meal, garlic, tomatoes, and herbs. Her gaze drifted to the sink where two wine glasses stood side by side, a reminder of the wine they had shared.
How different this morning would be if he were here now. She could almost picture him leaning against the counter, sleep-rumpled and smiling, coffee mug in hand. They would share breakfast and a quiet conversation about the day ahead. Maybe, just maybe, his lips would find hers in a gentle good morning kiss...
Elsbeth shook her head firmly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she muttered. “It was one dinner. One evening.”
Despite the connection she felt, despite the way his eyes had lingered on hers, he hadn’t actually said anything about seeing her again. Not romantically, anyway.
There had certainly been no mention of dating.
For all she knew, Philip was this generous with his time with every newcomer in town.
Now that was a sobering thought!
What she needed now was coffee. After she filled the coffeepot with water, Elsbeth measured the coffee grounds into the filter and set the pot to brew.
While it percolated, she leaned against the counter and stared at the growing light outside the window. Her mother had always said coffee time was thinking time, a time to enjoy the stillness before the day began. As she glanced around the kitchen, she imagined her mom sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
If only.
But her mom wasn’t there. With a deep breath, she brushed the thought aside and went outside to the porch. The morning air was cool and sweet, with dew still clinging to the grass. Birds called to one another from the trees that rustled in the morning breeze.
This was why she’d come here. This peace, this connection to the land. The farm—Rose Farm—was her priority now. The rest would follow. Or not. Either way, she had a business to build.
Because that was why she was here. To build a business. If she failed, she would have no choice but to leave Rose Farm, and that would break her heart all over again when it had just started to heal.
When the coffee finished brewing, Elsbeth filled her favorite working mug—a chipped ceramic one with faded wildflowers painted around the rim—and grabbed her notebook from the counter. The irrigation system wouldn’t finish installing itself, and if she could get water flowing to the fields today, she’d be that much closer to planting.
She made her way across the dewy grass to where they’d left the irrigation pipes yesterday. Setting her coffee on a nearby stump, she flipped open her notebook to review her plans once more before getting started.
She’d forgotten how heavy the pipes were to haul on her own, and Elsbeth grunted with effort as she wrestled one into position.
Her boots slipped slightly on the damp grass as she dragged the end of the pipe into place. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, breathing hard. Her muscles ached from the previous day, and a cramp was on the verge of forming in her shoulder.
“You’ve got this,” she muttered, adjusting her grip and forcing herself to keep moving. By the time she had one pipe section in place, her breath came in pants, and her braid was sticking to her neck. But she’d done it. One piece down, a dozen more to go.
She was so focused on the task that she almost missed the distant rumble of an engine approaching.
Her hands stilled. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
Philip.
She knew it with absolute certainty even before he appeared. But then, sure enough, his blue truck appeared around the bend and her heart gave a traitorous little flutter, refusing to believe he was just being neighborly.
Elsbeth went to meet him as he pulled to a stop next to the house. He climbed out, wearing work clothes, a pair of faded jeans, and a well-worn flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking as if he’d stepped right out of her dreams from last night.
“Morning,” he called, as he walked toward her with a box under his arm.
“Morning,” Elsbeth replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in her stomach.
He smiled that slow, sensual smile that ignited a deep desire inside her. She wanted to be everything he needed. Everything he wanted.
“Brought you a present,” he called as she got closer. “Not as pretty as a vine but might save your flowers just the same.”
So that’s why he was here. Not because he wanted to see her, but because he’d gotten something she needed. Little did he know that right now, all she needed was him.
“What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice steady so as not to betray her feelings.
“Filter regulator,” he said. “Should help balance the water pressure once you get everything hooked up.”
“Thanks.” She peered into the box as he handed it over.
“The one you have is good. But this one is better.” He shrugged, the faintest flush creeping up his neck.
“You didn’t have to,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
He ducked his head, smiling. “It was the least I could do after the amazing meal you cooked last night.”
“It was nothing special,” she replied. “And anyway, last night’s dinner was my way of thanking you for everything you have already done for me.”
Then Philip shifted slightly, clearing his throat. “So, uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that made him look almost boyish, “talking of dinner. You know I said my mom could not wait to meet you.”
“Yes,” she replied warily.
“Well, my mom wanted me to ask you over for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy,” he insisted. “Like I said, my mom would love to meet you.”
Elsbeth blinked, caught completely off guard.
Family dinner.
Meeting his parents.
Her stomach twisted as she opened and closed her mouth. “I...” She hesitated, the word sticking in her throat.
Philip immediately backed off a step, his hands held out in surrender.
“No pressure,” he blurted. “I just thought...well, you are kind of family now, whether you know it or not.”
His words, meant to be light, hit deeper than he probably realized.
Kind of family.
The longing in her chest ached so sharply she had to look away for a second, pretending to brush dirt from her hands.
She could say no. She could keep things simple, safe, and distant.
But when she looked up and met Philip’s intense gaze, she found herself nodding.
“I’d like that,” she murmured.
Relief flickered across his face, and he grinned.
“Six o’clock?” he asked.
“Six,” she confirmed.
“Great.” He grinned, looking so darn happy that she grinned right back at him, her nerves forgotten. “Well, I would love to stay and fit that filter regulator for you, but I have a full day of work ahead of me.”
“Of course,” she said, cradling the box in her hand as if it were the most precious gift anyone had ever given her.
“But I’ll see you at six?” he asked, as he backed away toward his truck.
“I’ll see you at six,” Elsbeth replied.
“Promise?” He swung open the truck door but didn’t climb in.
“I promise,” she said.
“You want me to text you directions?” he asked as he swung himself into the driver’s seat.
“I’m sure I can find it,” she replied, still grinning.
“Does that mean you already looked me up?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“I looked up the Thornberg Vineyard,” she admitted. “Because I was told their wine is so delicious.”
He closed the door, but she heard his laughter through the open window. “If that’s the way you want to play it.” He started the engine and, with a wave, he was gone, disappearing back down the driveway and out of her life.
As she stood there and watched him go, the box still in her hands, she knew she’d crossed some invisible line. Stepped a little deeper into a future she was still afraid to hope for.
For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to belong somewhere again, to have a family. Not just any family, but the Thornbergs. Philip’s family.
Elsbeth shook her head and returned to the irrigation pipes, but her mind remained distracted. Meeting his parents meant something. She wasn’t na?ve enough to believe it was just a casual invitation. There was something in Philip’s eyes when he’d asked—a hopeful vulnerability.
She’d never expected to see it in a man like Philip. A man so strong, so self-assured in so many ways. Then she reminded herself she’d never met a man like Philip before. He was one of a kind.
And the more she got to know him, she was sure he was the one for her.