Page 21 of Grump's Wild Rose

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I mutter.

I crouch in front of the pot and reach out, careful, fingers hovering before I let myself touch one. The surface is firm, warmfrom the lights above. I keep staring, wondering if I’m seeing things.

The greenhouse door bangs open behind me. Cold air rushes in along with Darby.

She’s talking before it shuts. “Traffic lights were conspiring against me, and don’t get me started on bad drivers. I almost got hit by a red light runner going—” She stops short when she clocks my posture. “That’s the face you make when payroll goes wrong.”

I don’t answer. She follows my line of sight.

“Oh.” A heartbeat, and then another, “Oh.”

She drops into a crouch beside me, coat still on, hair windblown and pink-cheeked, eyes locked on the hybrid. Her fingers hover the way mine did.

“May I?” she asks.

I nod.

“Ohhh,” she says again, softer this time, then lightly fingers one of the buds. Her mouth curves.

“They bloomed,” I say, still half convinced I hallucinated it.

“They did.” She grins up at me. “Have you been sweet talking it?”

I exhale. “Don’t.”

“That’s a yes.” She presses her lips together, clearly working very hard not to tease too far.

I shift my weight and scrub a hand down my face. “For the record, I am not acknowledging a causal link between me humiliating myself and this happening.”

Her brows lift. I hesitate.

“…I talked to it.”

Her grin widens.

“And,” I add flatly, “played music.”

She beams. “What genre?”

“Instrumental.”

She gasps. “Jazz?”

“…Yes.”

“See? Emotional plant care.” Darby straightens. “That definitely makes you Hot Plant Daddy.”

“I hate that phrase.”

She bumps her shoulder into mine and kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome. I expect you to thank me later.”

“I thought ladies didn’t expect things in exchange for gifts and advice.”

“I never said that, and for the record…” Her grin widens when she winks. “I’m no lady.”

I grab her around the waist, and she falls apart with hysterical giggles. “And I’m no gentleman.”

I kiss her slow, one hand around her waist, the other sliding into her hair. She makes a soft sound against my mouth and tips into me. Her fingers curl into my jacket, my pulse kicking up a notch at how naturally we fit together.