I nodded and waved for Pim so I could pay the check and get moving myself. After dropping by the shop to pick up a few things, I wanted to stop off on the side of the highway and finish putting in the nasturtium seeds really quickly.
Despite everything that had happened yesterday with Patrick Stanner, I still wanted the wildflowers to bloom the way I’d envisioned so every visitor to town this summer arrived feeling happy and welcome. My plan to add the nasturtiums had a purpose. The mustard oil they produced attracted garden pests which would help protect the native wildflowers. They were also easy to grow and stayed low to the ground which made for a nice edging border.
My wildflower initiative was important, even if the county council refused to listen to me. They were going to let their stubbornness over my involvement in the ski resort closing keep them from realizing the economic benefits of a simple highway wildflower program. It was so frustrating to see grown adults cut off their noses to spite their faces.
But it didn’t matter. They were getting the highway flowers whether they liked it or not. I had seeds in abundance from my own planting programs, so all it cost me was time and effort.
And a little Stanner harassment if I was caught again.
Not that I was going to let that stop me.
5
Sam
After breakfast and a few errands in town, the three of us drove toward the far side of the ski mountain. One of the ski resort equipment sheds was located on that side of the slopes, and we hoped to find an extension ladder I could use to inspect the roofs of the A-frame cabins.
“Son of a bitch!” I blurted when I saw Truman Sweet on the side of the highway again. “What the fuck is he doing?”
The answer was obvious. His little pert ass stuck up in the air while he bent over with a hand trowel to dig in the dirt. A small bag sat next to him, and I would have bet my bike it held wildflower seeds.
“Pretty sure he’s planting something,” Tiller said dryly. Mikey stifled a laugh.
“Stop the car,” I demanded. “Let me out.”
Tiller’s eyes met mine in the mirror, and I glared at him. Mikey turned to stare at me. “We’re not bothering my friend while he’s doing something he loves. Why do you care? The man plants flowers for a living. If he wants to beautify the highway, let him. The poor guy needs a little happiness in his life.”
That was all Tiller needed to hear to keep driving. I felt my back teeth grind together. “He won’t be happy if that bully shows up again. He’s going to get his ass kicked over a damned dirt patch,” I said. “The kid has the self-preservation sense of a gnat near a bug zapper.”
But Mikey was right. It wasn’t any of my business. I’d already sworn off giving a shit about Truman’s well-being. He was an adult. I was only passing through.
I let out a breath and rubbed my hands down my thighs. “Whatever,” I muttered. “Stupid fucking idiot.”
Mikey faced forward again and spoke to Tiller. “Did you catch how weird he smelled? What was that?”
Tiller glanced over. “Who? Truman? Why were you smelling him?”
“Yeah. I walked past him on the way to the men’s room. He smelled like… I can’t put my finger on it.”
My teeth hurt, so I stretched my jaw open. And words popped out. “Cherries. He smells sweet like ripe cherries. Not weird. Just unique.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I saw the trap for what it had been. Mikey’s face brightened in victory. “Ah-ha! I knew it. You like him.”
“Wanting to lick him is hardly the same as liking him,” I muttered.
Mikey’s laughter made me happy, even if it was at my expense.
He danced in his seat and singsonged. “You like him. You want to lick him and fuck him and keep him safe in your arms for-ever.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a breath of fresh mountain air. At some point Tiller had put the windows down in the SUV, and the warm spring day blew in and washed over me. Despite the hell my friends were giving me, I liked it here. There was something about Aster Valley that eased my soul. I could see why Mikey and Tiller had fallen in love with the place. Part of me wished I could stay longer than a few days.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said after a minute. “I’m only passing through, then I’m headed to the coast, remember? As soon as my bike is ready.”
“We’ll see about that,” Mikey said. “My plan is to find a way to convince you to stay here with us. My only hesitation in leaving Texas was leaving you behind. If I can get you to move here with us, it will be perfect. All the people I love the most will be with me all the time.”
He didn’t realize the effect his words had on me. Or maybe he did. But I hadn’t had a life full of people who cared. I hadn’t had anyone looking out for me the way he had. Mikey may have been very different from his dad and brothers, but he’d still had them in his corner. No, they weren’t perfect, and in fact, sometimes I wanted to kick their asses, but they’d still been there.
The only person who’d been there for me was Mikey himself, and I would never ever forget it.
“I’m not making any promises,” I said roughly. “Not sure I can leave my business and Mom and the girls.”
Mikey’s expression turned serious. “No, I know. And I wouldn’t want you to do something you didn’t want to do. I just mean we love you. Whatever makes you happiest will make us happy, too.”
Tiller nodded and met my eye again in the mirror. He was a good man. I was grateful beyond measure Mikey had found him.
“Well,” I said, clearing my voice. “It will make me happiest to find a damned good ladder in the storage shed. How much longer till we get there?”
After finding the ladder we needed—at the local hardware store rather than the dusty old equipment shed—we made our way back to the lodge property where I spent a happy few hours inspecting the chalets. Tiller accompanied me and helped make a punch list of tasks, repairs, and upgrades the little cabins needed, but overall they were in fairly good shape. I could even knock out some of the work while I waited for my bike to be fixed.
Once I’d stuffed myself with Mikey’s lunch spread that included custom turkey sandwiches on thick slabs of homemade bread, I borrowed the SUV and set off to town to check in with the Chop Shop. Jim Browning assured me that he could fix it in the next few days.
“Are you sure? A couple of days seems quick for a bent fork and—”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life. Take my word for it. You’re gonna be good to go in a jiffy.” He beamed at me. “And if you need a loaner in the meantime, we have a good deal on a Kawasaki rental.” He tilted his head toward a bike in the lot. I expected a cheap, banged-up piece of shit, so I was surprised to see a Versys in decent shape.
“Run well?” I asked, thinking it was too good to be true to get my own wheels in this tiny town without much fuss.
He nodded. “’Course.”
“How much?” I asked Jim.
We settled on a rental agreement, but when I asked for the keys, he looked at me like I had two heads. “Key’s in the bike. This is a small town, Mr. Rigby. If anyone else is caught driving that bike, I’ll know who took it. Same goes with all our local customers’ vehicles. They leave the keys in ’em, and we don’t have to stick around for a late drop-off.”