Love in Lavender: Sweet Contemporary Beach Romance ( Book 1) by Elana Johnson
Everyone whooped, and Jess gave Drew a high five before hugging his mom. “Thanks, Mom.” They went down the steps and headed toward the sheds on the west side of the farmhouse.
Janey dropped into the spot Drew had just been in on the swing. “He’s great with them.”
“They seem to love him.” Gretchen watched until she couldn’t see the kids and Drew anymore. She honestly had no idea how to classify the feelings dancing through her veins. “He asked me out.”
“It’s about time.” Janey laughed and lifted her arm over Gretchen’s shoulders. “I hope you said yes.”
“You know what?” She grinned at her friend. “I did.”
Chapter Twelve
Drew marveled at the way Gretchen could take flowers and make them into works of art. With floral tape, pins, and the eye of a professional, she put together delicate corsages, traditional centerpieces, and huge showpieces for the bride and groom.
He got her whatever flower she requested, retrieved more tape when she ran out, and brought a chicken Ceasar salad from the Souper Salad down the street. He made several simple sales of rose bouquets to anyone who came in.
When they only had twenty minutes left until they needed to leave to get over to the reception center, a woman pushed into the florist.
“Jenna Blackman.” Drew smiled at the raven-haired woman he’d grown up with. “What can I help you with?”
“Is Gretchen here?” Jenna tipped up onto her toes and tried to see past Drew. Gretchen’s workroom had a large window that faced the shop, but it was tinted so she could see into the shop, but they couldn’t see her.
“She’s putting the finishing touches on a wedding. We’re closing in five minutes to head out.” He flinched when he realized he’d used the word “we’re” like he and Gretchen owned and operated The Painted Daisy together. He hoped Jenna hadn’t noticed.
“I need to talk to her about a wedding.” Jenna’s face filled with happiness as her smile widened. “I got engaged!” She held out her left hand like Drew should examine the engagement ring and gush over it.
“Let me see if she has time to talk right now.” Drew edged away from Jenna and hurried into the back room. “Jenna Blackman is here, and—”
“I got engaged!”
Drew jumped and his heartbeat accelerated when he realized Jenna had followed him into the refrigerated workroom. She pushed past him and approached Gretchen, who sat at her workbench, blinking.
“I have to have you do the flowers for the wedding, Gretchen. I just have to.” Jenna positioned herself on the barstool Drew had been occupying for most of the day. “You’re the best in town. You don’t ship anything in.” Her eyes shone with anxiety and hope. “Can you do it?”
Gretchen looked at Drew over Jenna’s head. “Drew, I have a calendar under the front desk. Could you grab it for me?” She wiped her hand on the green apron she wore over her clothes, the faintest line of disapproval appearing between her eyes.
He didn’t want to leave her here alone, but he nodded and hurried back to the front of the store. He found the calendar and returned to the workroom to find Gretchen holding Jenna’s left hand and assuring her that the ring was lovely.
Relief washed across her face when Drew stepped between them and placed the calendar on the table. “When is the wedding?” Gretchen asked.
“Should I start to load up?” Drew asked. “We have to leave soon.”
“Yes, please.” Gretchen flashed him a brief smile. “I’ll finish this wreath and we’ll go.”
Drew picked up a box of corsages at the same time Jenna said, “So our date is August fourth.” He hated leaving Gretchen in there alone, but he reasoned that she usually ran the florist shop by herself. She didn’t need him hovering over her, even if she looked uncomfortable around the bride-to-be.
They left several minutes late because of Jenna, and Gretchen exhaled heavily after he’d helped her into the van.
“Maybe we can grab some ice cream after we get set up,” he said, glancing at her.
She smiled and gave him a sexy smirk. “Always with the ice cream.”
“It’ll be store-bought, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” He turned onto Main Street and started toward the gardens where the reception was being held.
Both eyebrows lifted under her bangs. “You eat store-bought ice cream?”
“If the occasion calls for it.” He chuckled as he drove.
“Seems almost criminal.” She giggled and the sound of it drove his temperature higher. “So, what’s the last flavor you made?”
“Lavender and orange with a dash of black pepper.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s…” Gretchen’s mouth worked but no sound came out.
“I haven’t tried it frozen yet. I’m still working on the recipe.”
“How do you know if it’s good?”
“I make the base first,” he said, feeling like he was exposing part of his soul by talking about his ice cream experiments. And taking Gretchen to his house? Yeah, he wasn’t going to do that anytime soon.
“And I taste it,” he said. “The only difference between the base and the ice cream is the texture and the temperature. So I mix it up and put it in the fridge to get nice and cold. Then I taste it. Although, sometimes the way the ice cream is churned makes a difference. When I use liquid nitrogen, for example, I—” He made himself stop talking. One quick glance at her showed that he had said too much, too fast. He chuckled. “Sorry. I get a little carried away when it comes to ice cream making.”
She turned and settled some of her weight into the door instead of the back of the seat. Straightening the green sweater she wore, she asked, “Why is that, Drew?”
“Why is what?”
“Why do you like ice cream making so much?”
He shrugged, though he knew why. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” She watched him, and he almost squirmed under the weight of her gaze. “No one makes the bases, tastes them, and then washes them down the drain.”
“I didn’t say I washed them down the drain.”
“Oh yeah?” She folded her arms, her smile beautiful and flirty. “What do you do with the base after you taste it? If it doesn’t meet your cut to actually get made into an ice cream? Then what?”
“I…wash it down the drain.” He laughed with her, and it felt so good. So right. And he was so happy he’d decided to ignore Yvonne’s text. As soon as he could, he was going to delete it completely.
“So what are your goals with the ice cream recipes? Cookbook? Oh, wait! Do you have a blog online?” Her eyes practically shot sparkles they were glittering so much. “Can I find your creations on the Internet?”
“What? No.” Drew scoffed, his fingers gripping the wheel a bit tighter. “I—look, I don’t want you to laugh.”
“I’m not going to laugh.”
He hadn’t even told his mom or Joel about why he’d been so focused on ice cream lately.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said.
He wanted to. “Just promise you won’t laugh.”
“I’m not going to laugh. I promise.”
It took a few moments for him to work up his courage. “So you know how they award a Lavender King or a Lavender Queen every year at the Lavender Festival?”
“Yeah.” She drew the word out, obviously not getting where he was going yet.
“I want to win that,” he said. “I’ve never entered, but I’ve been perfecting my ice cream recipes and skills for a few years now. I’m not sure I’m ready for the Creation Contest, but—”
“I’m sure you are,” she said. “Do you need a taste-tester? I really like ice cream.”
Drew looked at her, hope firing through him and filling him completely. “Really? You’d taste and tell me the truth?” The idea of having her over to his home to taste his creations made him as nervous as much as it excited him.
Her little laugh made a shiver cascade over his skin. “Of course. I’
“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s get these flowers where they go, and then you can try my honey lavender scone ice cream.”
She blinked, her cute little smile still in place. “That sounds fascinating.”
“It won’t win.” He pulled into the reception center. The Hawthorn Harbor Gardens weren’t the Magleby Mansion, but not everyone could afford such a luxury location for their wedding.
“Why not?”
“Honey with lavender is too ordinary.” He got out of the van, the scent of roses already in the air. He’d loved these gardens when he was a kid. His father had first taught him about botanicals by wandering through these gardens.
The memories flowed as he got to work, following Gretchen’s directions and exchanging flirtatious smiles with her. An hour later, all the flowers were in place, and Drew drove back to his place, his nerves pulsing through his whole body. His hands felt slick on the steering wheel and when he parked in the driveway, he couldn’t make himself get out.
Blue barked from the backyard, the sound faint through the closed windows.
“Are we going to go in?” Gretchen asked.
“Yeah.” Drew ran his hand down his face and over his beard. “Yes, let’s go in. It’s kind of a mess, so…”
“I’ll be kind.” She opened her door, and that launched Drew into motion. He went around to her side and helped her get the crutches in position. Once inside, the scent of cream and sugar met his nose, and Gretchen said, “Smells great in here. When’s the last time you made ice cream?”
“Like actual ice cream? A couple of nights ago. I made a lavender blueberry base last night.” He made a face that got a laugh from Gretchen. “Augustus Hammond won with something similar a while back, but I don’t like blueberries much.”
“Augustus Hammond…he owns the Purple Haze Lavender Farm, doesn’t he?”
“Sure does.” And the Hammonds were very influential around town. Drew worried that even if his recipe was better than Augustus’s, he wouldn’t win. He pushed the cares away. He didn’t even know if Augustus was going to enter the contest this year. Perhaps he’d been invited to sit on the judge’s panel.
Drew led her into the kitchen, which looked like a mad scientist lived there. Normal people had toasters on their counters. He had a row of ice cream makers. Other single men probably had frozen pizzas in the freezer. He opened his and pulled out one of a half dozen plastic containers of ice cream.
“Wow,” Gretchen said, taking in the kitchen. He tried to see it through new eyes, and he supposed the glass containers of sugar and malted milk powder lining the counter were odd. The big stock pot he used to heat milk and sugar. The stack of egg containers he hadn’t taken out to the recycling bin yet.
“So, I, uh, eat out a lot,” he said. “The kitchen mostly gets used for ice cream making.” He tacked on a light laugh and got out two spoons. He cracked the lid on the container and handed her a utensil, reminding himself that it wasn’t the first time she’d tried his ice cream.
“So give it a try.” He stepped back and watched as she fixed him with the flirtiest look a woman had ever given him. She finally dipped her spoon into the ice cream and lifted out a bite.
Heat shot into his face as he watched the spoon go all the way to her lips. He focused on her mouth, and then all he could think about was kissing her. The air between them became charged, and he didn’t even know why.
He couldn’t tell if she liked the ice cream, because her expression remained blank even as a beautiful blush crept into her cheeks.
She finally swallowed and a small cough broke from her throat. A giggle followed, and Drew exhaled in a loud burst. “Well?”
“Drew, that is delicious.” She took another bite. “I like this one better than the white chocolate one you brought to the hospital last week.”
“Yeah?”
She leaned her weight into the counter and took an awkward step closer. “Really great.”
He received her into his arms, the weight and feel of her there absolutely perfect. “Could you taste the cinnamon?” he whispered.
“Yes, it sort of sat on the back of my tongue.”
“And the lavender?”
“Just at the end, that great floral note. And the saltiness that indicated the scone was the best part.”
“You think so?”
She leaned into him, tipping her head back to keep eye contact with him. “I think you could win Lavender King with that ice cream.”
Drew chuckled. Every cell in his body urged him to kiss Gretchen, but still he didn’t. “I don’t think I’d win with that,” he said. “Like I said, it’s a little too ordinary.”
“There was nothing ordinary about that ice cream.” She reached up and traced her fingers along his jaw line. “There’s nothing ordinary about you.”
Drew wasn’t sure how to respond, and it didn’t matter, because he was going to kiss Gretchen.
At least until his phone sang from where he’d tossed it on the kitchen counter. A part-nervous, part-frustrated laugh spilled from his lips as he glanced at it. Then alarm filled him. “It’s Dixie.” He released Gretchen and swiped the device from the counter and held it toward her.
“Dixie?” She peered at the phone and then took it from him. “Dixie?” she said into the phone. “Yes, it’s Mom. I’m with Drew. He’s…” Her eyes met his. “Busy.”
She turned away from him but couldn’t move far. So he heard her when she said, “Dix, I need you to take a deep breath…yes, Drew brought your inhaler out to the farmhouse. It’s probably in the bathroom.”
Several tense seconds passed, where Drew put the lid on the ice cream and replaced it in the freezer. He went to the back door and whistled for the dogs. They came tearing into the house as Gretchen said, “Go ask Donna, baby. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”
He gestured toward the front door, and she set his phone on the counter before grabbing her crutches. He picked up his phone and followed her. “Is she okay?”
“She’s having an asthma attack. She said something about an animal in the lavender fields and she ran… I couldn’t really tell what had happened. She couldn’t find her inhaler.”
“I’ll call my mom.” Drew held open Gretchen’s door while the dogs loaded into the truck bed and his mom’s phone rang and rang. “She didn’t answer.” He jumped behind the wheel and put the truck in gear. “Don’t worry, Gretchen. I’m sure she’s fine.”
But Gretchen didn’t relax, didn’t even respond. She stared out the passenger window, her jaw working and her hands sitting very, vey still in her lap.
Chapter Thirteen
Gretchen hated that she couldn’t always be there for Dixie. Hated relying on Donna and Joel, Janey and Drew, to take care of her and her daughter. She supposed everyone needed help from time to time, but she felt like such a burden.
The worry wormed through her stomach, making it sour. If Aaron were here, she wouldn’t be in this position. Anger flowed through her. Anger that he’d always worked so late. Anger that he hadn’t been more careful that night. Anger that she now had to deal with everything alone.
She glanced over to Drew, his words echoing in her head.
I’ll be right here.
And he had been right there, directly beside her, offering constant support and encouragement. So she didn’t have to do this alone. Not tonight.
By the time they pulled up to the farmhouse, enough time had passed for Dixie to quiet. Donna rocked in the porch swing with Dixie’s head in her lap, stroking the girl’s fair hair.
“How is she?” Gretchen asked, exhaustion filling her whole soul. She still wasn’t back to one-hundred percent, and her head ached.
“We found her inhaler, and she’s doing fine.” Donna smiled down at the girl with such love, Gretchen wondered how she could take her daughter and move back into her cottage. This farm, Donna and Joel—Drew—they felt like where she should be and who she should
Gretchen took a deep breath and pushed it out. “Thank you so much, Donna.” Her voice quivered a bit, and she let herself lean against Drew. His mother saw, but Gretchen wasn’t sure she cared anymore. She’d almost kissed the man only twenty minutes ago.
Her whole body felt cold, and not only because the evening wind had kicked up.
“Come on, Gretchen.” Drew took her in the house. “You should go to bed.”
She sank onto the couch and wiped her hand down her face. “I can’t. I have to go back and get the flowers.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You have to be to work by eight tomorrow.” She gave him a look she hoped made his insides quake with fear.
He didn’t seem fazed at all as he sat next to her. “Please let me do this for you.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed each one before looking into her eyes.
She couldn’t argue with him. She didn’t even want to. “Okay.”
Satisfied, he leaned back into the couch and tucked her into his side. “Okay.”
Gretchen woke with a start and sat up straight, her eyes taking precious seconds to adjust to the dark. “Hello?” One thing about living out in the country was there was no light pollution. Everything was absolutely silent at night. Which made the sound she’d heard terrifying.
“It’s me,” Drew whispered from across the room. “My mother said you didn’t take any painkillers before bed. Are you feeling okay?”
Her head pulsed with pain, and surprisingly, her forearms did too. She’d warded off a fifteen-foot ladder with them, so she supposed they had the right to hurt.
“I could use something,” she said, finally able to drink in the form of his silhouette as the dim light filtered down the hall and framed him. “I can get up.”
“No, just stay there,” he whispered. “I’ll grab you something to drink and get your pills.” He left the door open, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a couple of capsules. She swallowed them, relief at the cool water already touching her scorched throat.