Page 44 of The Fate Factor

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He’s laughing as he stretches out his other leg, then lowers himself onto his back, staring up at the canopy, and it’s with a burst of courage that I do it too, sinking down until we’re shoulder to shoulder, our heads in the grass.

“Adorableness aside,” he says. “I wanted to learn the industry, and I had no experience, so I started there. Some nights were pretty slow, and we’d basically get paid to stand there and geek out about beer for a few hours. I got moved to bartending pretty quickly, though. It’s where I met most of the people who would give me a chance later when I started brewing my own stuff.”

Huh. Most beer guys I’ve met are nerdier, scientists at heart. Jamie strikes me as a party guy who figured out how to make a living at it.

“That’s creative,” I say. “And smart.”

He turns his head and there’s surprise there, like maybe people don’t often notice this. Little does he know I’m on a mission to notice everything about him, prop his pieces up and study them in the light of what I know about us: That we might be destined.

Despite the fact that having my brain hijacked is still not something I'm looking forward to, a small part of me starts to hope that I’ll be able to give him what he wants. That I’ll see something to help him. He’s passionate about this. I think it would make me want to root for him even if I wasn’t there for the inception of this whole thing. Even if he hadn’t asked me to help him with the future of it.

We fall into that same surprisingly comfortable silence as last night, staring up at his flowers. The vines sway softly in the breeze, and I sigh contentedly. A flower farm. How could he possibly have known how much I would love this place?

I wish I could keep one, put it in a jar in the cottage. I don’t know how it works, though. Maybe he has to pay for them or something. Maybe each one is important and it’s a big ask.

Jamie sees me chewing my lip and grins.

“What?”

“You’re looking at that plant like you want to take it to bed.”

“I’m not!” My cheeks scream pink.

He holds his finger and thumb an inch apart. “A little.”

I glance at his too-handsome-to-look-at face. Then away. Then back. His grin is easy and open, and I’m suddenly braver than I was just before it.

“Can I have one?” I ask. “To paint? I mean if it’s not a problem.”

That grin births the most beautiful laugh. “Why would it be a problem?”

“I don’t know!” I laugh back.

Jamie gets to his feet, reaching up to cup a pinecone flower in his hand, weighing it like he’s choosing something precious. He tests another few before deciding on one directly overhead. Once he’s plucked it, he chooses a few more, handing me the miniature bouquet. I pull it to my nose, and my eyes fall closed. Affection pools warm and low in my belly, and for the first time in a long time, I feel some of that color coming back.

It’s all over my face when we get back to Jamie’s truck, that color. He’s outside of the barn saying goodbye to Ronnie, and I wait for him in the cab, staring at my reflection in the side mirror. My hair is tangled from the windy ride in, the last of my highlights catching gold in the afternoon light. My cheeks are colored from the sun. The lipstick I put on for this non-date is gone, but my lips are still a bright pink. I feel like an indoor plant that’s been set out on the porch for the afternoon. Revived. Vibrant.

I slide my gaze to Jamie. His hat is backward now, shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.Okay, yeah, I say to the imaginary Kate in my head.I like him.

He turns toward the truck, and I jerk my head forward, pretending to adjust the visor while he climbs in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you ready?” he asks, pressing the ignition.

I twirl the stems of my flowers between my fingers. “Yes and no. I kind of want to live here, take naps under the plants.”

He laughs. “You might rethink that when they’re under a foot of snow.”

I’ll be back in Connecticut when the snow comes. The thought comes like a pin prick to a balloon, and I sink back into my seat.

I remember that bitter feeling I’d get as a kid, whenever August would wind down and my time here would end. Knowing that for the next nine months I’d ache for my favorite place, my favorite parts of myself that seemed to fade out like a bad connection the further away from Nana’s I got. I wasn’t sure I’d find much of that to cling to here without her, but the idea ofthistrip ending soon suddenly fills me with that same longing.

Not in any small part because of the man beside me. A man who I’d initially been afraid of, then curious about, and now find myself… very fond of.

“Thanks for taking me here, Jamie.”

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