Page 44 of A Secret In The Garden

I realized the chaotic brown and green photo was of a freshly emptied flower bed with Eliza bending over it accompanied by three bug emoji. Then, First bed to be planted! Adrenaline surged in my veins. It was from Eliza. I could feel her enthusiasm through the phone. I typed a response, then deleted it. The whole reason I was in New York right now was to put distance between the two of us. To keep away from her.

Three little dots appeared on the screen from her end, and I felt another jolt of adrenaline.

I waited for her words to come through, my chest tight from holding my breath. The dots disappeared. Nothing.

She was waiting for my response.

Nope.

No.

I threw the phone on the couch across from where I sat with more force than I had intended.

No.

No. Do not.

But she put in so much work.

No!

Had she sent me a photo without a bra on purpose?

I jogged across and grabbed the phone to examine her exquisitely perky tits. It was just talking about the garden; it’s not like we were sexting or anything stupid. She was doing a job for me, and as a good business professional, I had a duty to speak to her about any concerns she may have about that job.

My heart raced as if I were a teenager texting a girl I had a crush on. I smiled to myself and tried to think of the right thing to say.

Respectfully, you may want to look into painting; it looks empty.

Sent. Fuck. Did that sound mean or funny? I panicked, added a smiley emoji, and then swore.

I held my forehead and strung a line of expletives together. The phone pinged immediately with a picture of her standing in the bed with dirt smeared across the ridge of her pretty nose and a cultivator in one hand. And most definitely no bra on.

I haven’t planted the flowers yet! I just finished breaking up the soil, lol. How is your trip going? Katya said it’s beautiful there.

She used an emoji after every sentence—classic people-pleaser. I hesitated a minute before walking to the large window spanning nearly the entire side of the second story and taking a photo of the rolling vineyard and sending it to her.

It’s been productive, I typed.

Wow, that’s beautiful. Sorry, you’re probably headed out to dinner. Or not? What DOES Jasper Blackwood do when he’s not being reclusive at Blackwood Manor? she asked, adding a thinking emoji.

I began to unfasten the top few buttons of my dress shirt, planning on jumping in the shower after I typed out my last response to her.

I’m not going out tonight; I only go out when I have to. And I’m not reclusive, I’m just an asshole that hates everything and everyone, I answered back. The words stung with truth.

I don’t think you hate everyone, and I don’t think you’re an asshole…at least not all the time.

The three dots appeared again; she was typing more. They disappeared, and I found myself unable to set the phone down and go to the shower.

Do you know my favorite things about the plants I work with? she asked.

That they smell nice…? I guessed. How could she think I wasn’t an asshole after how I’d left? Come to think of it, I hadn’t sensed a drop of anger from her. Was she that used to being walked all over by assholes that my behavior hadn’t registered? I hated that thought.

No, but speaking of smells, remind me to ask you about Chanel No. 5. Hold on, I can’t text and dig at the same time, she said.

What was she doing?

A second later, the video call came through. Immediately, Eliza’s face popped up on the screen as she set the phone on something, giving me the POV of a plant looking out of the bed at her while she dug and grated through the soil.