Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“Have you considered that I’m trying to win you over?”
“That’s the furthest thing from my mind,” I half-lied. “And if you are, it’s only so I’ll stop causing chaos in your life.”
He laughed, and the deep sound of it tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. “I’m not sure. I think I’m becoming rather accustomed to your chaos. Perhaps I even like it.”
“That’s the first sign you need therapy. Although, given that you’ve admitted it out loud, perhaps it’s already too late for you.” I released the trolley and wandered around one of the displays. “What size pots does she need?”
“No idea.”
“All right, what plants are they for?”
“Not a clue.”
“Do you not think that’s information you should have obtained before driving out here?”
Oliver cocked his head to the side. “She never offered it.”
So he didn’t bother to ask.
“This is why you’re a bad son,” I retorted.
“Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it to his ear.
Five minutes later, Eleanor had handed over the names of her plants and sizes of the pots, I selected two I thought she would like, and we paid for them on our way out.
“Let’s never do this again,” I muttered, strapping the pots into the backseat of his car.
“Why not? I had fun,” he replied from the other side of the car.
Yeah.
So, did I.
That was the problem.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his eyes hardening. “I was watching you in there, you know. You enjoyed yourself.”
I sniffed, adjusting the belt around the pot. “I’m a gardener. Of course I’m going to enjoy myself at the garden centre. It’s like taking a bookworm to the bookstore and being surprised when you lose them for three hours.”
“Rose.” He reached over the backseat and cupped my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “It won’t hurt you if you admit that you had fun with me, you know.”
“It might. I’m not willing to take the risk,” I murmured.
“I had fun. Because of you.”
He leant in closer, and everything else melted away. There was only the warmth of his hand on my jaw, the softness of his breath as it fluttered across my lips, and the hypnotising heat in his eyes—eyes that were solely focused on me.
He was sweeping me up into his orbit, sucking me in, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then he leant in and kissed me softly.
Oh, so softly.
Just the barest touch of his lips to mine, but it felt as though all my nerve endings came alive, singing to a song I didn’t know the lyrics of.
Never had a kiss so gentle felt like so much.
He pulled back, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “Come on, princess. Let’s get going.”
22
* * *
OLIVER
Change of Heart
My mother hummed happily as she re-potted some peculiar pink-and-green leaved plant into one of the pots Rose had selected yesterday. She was making the worst of messes, sending potting soil across the kitchen island as if she were trying to turn it into a vegetable bed itself.
“Can you be more careful?”
“I’m going to clean it up,” she replied breezily, patting soil around the plant’s stem. “Don’t worry, I won’t make the staff do it.”
“I was going to tell them not to,” I said dryly. “This is ridiculous. Why can’t you do this outside?”
“Because they’re houseplants.”
“And? They won’t survive outside for the ten minutes it’s going to take you to make your mess?”
“You wouldn’t send a housecat outside for ten minutes while you change their litter tray, would you?” Mum sniffed, pushing the pot to one side.
“No, you’d take the litter tray out. But your plant is not a cat,” I replied. “Just… make sure you clean it up.”
“Yes, yes, Mr Neat Freak.” She eased the second plant out of its small pot and sent another spray of dry dirt everywhere. “Oops.”
I sighed and shook my head, staring into my coffee that had just been sprinkled with her dirt. “Guess that’s the end of that.”
“Sorry, dear. This one seems a bit energetic.”
“I think it’s you who’s energetic, not the plant, Mum.”
“You might be right.” She tittered out a laugh, brushing some of the soil to the side without a care in the world. All I could do was watch as she continued to dirty up the kitchen, completely disregarding everything I’d just said to her.
What on Earth had possessed me to agree to her moving into the main house? Was it too late to shuffle her and her new plant obsession to one of the cottages on the estate?
“Is there a reason you’re suddenly interested in plants?”
Mum paused; her hands buried in the small compost bag. “I’ve always been interested in plants.”
“No. I’ve borne witness to your cactus manslaughter before.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, drawing her brows together in a frown. “That was one time, and I forgot they didn’t need as much water as others. Everyone makes mistakes, dear.”