Page 22 of Fall or Nothing

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

Carter’s gaze flicked to me, warm for just a second. “Hope they were goodthings.”

“I simply mentioned the midnight rescue, that’s all,” I clarified.

Colt chuckled. “Lucky for you she was there.”

“Yep. I’m grateful,” Carter nodded.

“Ash says you had a busy first day. Called you a hard worker. Keep that up. No slackers here.” Colt’s eyes leveled at him.

“I’m only here for a month. You won’t find me slacking off for a minute of it.”

A month? The words sunk like a stone in the pit of my stomach. Of course he was temporary. All the men were. But some stayed. Still, it hurt more than it should have for a man I hardly knew.

Colt must have seen the reaction on my face. “Speaking from experience, a man can put down roots here pretty easily if he’s not careful.”

“Noted,” Carter replied quietly.

“Good. Well, Sage, we’re heading out. Meet you at the truck.”

I stayed rooted in place until he was gone. “I didn’t realize you’d be leaving so soon.” I faced him, crossing my arms. “Guess you didn’t mention that last night.”

Carter toed the dirt, boots scuffed from the day’s work. “I have another job waiting back East. I don’t mean to hurt you, Sage, but… the more I think about it, starting anything I can’t finish is probably not a good idea right now.”

I lifted my chin, forcing a casual shrug. “Who said we were starting anything? You needed help. I gave it. Simple as that.”

I turned and walked away before my voice could crack.

“On Friday I’ll come pay you for the clothes,” he called after me.

I didn’t answer. I’d pay the tab myself if it meant never seeing him again. But as I climbed into Colt’s truck, my heart already ached at the thought.

EIGHT

Bloomed

SAGE

“With any luck,we’ll have this display ready before the morning rush,” Harper exclaimed from the top of the step stool, pencil tucked behind her ear, trying to make sure the top shelf was level before attaching it. She had the spunk of a woman who’d already decided this plan of hers was going to go well this holiday season.

I, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves. Pam would arrive at the Copper Cup soon for her order of lavender bath oil, and I still had no idea what to charge.

Earlier this morning, I’d poured a new batch into glass bottles—the recipe I’d infused with dried rosemary and a little lemon zest. The bottles were from the hardware store down the street, cork-stoppered and clean-lined. I’d cut squares of craft paper for the labels and written each ingredient in my neatest handwriting, then tied a sprig of dried rosemary under the twine.

Making things look cute was half the battle, according to Ivy, who’d stopped in earlier to survey my finishedproducts.

Now they sat behind the counter waiting for Pam, plus a few extra bottles for Harper’s new display of Christmas gift ideas. Numbers had never been my thing. Words were. But here I was, trying to turn a hobby into something real.

Give me a blank page or journal, and I could fill it with words. The ability to write beautiful, thoughtful things came from my father. I’d even attempted to create a fun blog of sorts earlier this fall when Ivy and the Chamber of Commerce sponsored Cowboy Nights at the Sapphire Saloon, hoping to attract more young people to the area so our little town could grow.

I called it the Forest Grove Gossip Gal, mostly reporting on the town gossip and things I’d observed about the various couples forming after each Cowboy Night, even about my own sisters’ love lives. It had caused quite a stir in town, with people talking about what I’d written as if it were gospel. Of course, I’d written it anonymously so no-one was the wiser that it was me, and I had posted it free around town.

It never occurred to me to sell anything I’d made.

“There. All set. This will be a hit, this season, trust me.” Harper stepped down and observed our work. With a satisfied nod, she reached into the boxes and started lining up the products for sale.

One by one, we arranged ornaments, candles, my bottles of bath oil, and various other items for sale.