Page 53 of The Charming Checklist
“What on earth am I going to do with yarn and pet supplies? I saw an art gallery on the way in.”
“The Artlandish. You’ll love that place. Tell Claud I said hello!”
Finally, Ava drove to Max’s house, much closer to the ocean. The salty air drifted through her rolled-down windows, a warm breeze whipping her hair.
Carrying her bag, she knocked on the door once. Then twice. She heard Sub bark from inside, a whiny “pet me, please” bark. Was Max in the shower? Otherwise occupied? Well, she could come back. But a moment later, he opened the door.
His dark eyes widened, but if she read him right, the surprise was on the pleasant side. “Hey, there.”
“I escaped.”
He opened the door to let her in. “I see that.”
Ava bent to pet the whiny Sub, who wagged his tail double-time then, satisfied, hopped on the couch for a snooze.
“Don’t let me interfere with whatever you’re doing. I just wanted to fix you a fantastic cup of coffee. Then you’ll see what you’ve been missing.” She dropped her package and hugged his neck.
Max was slightly disheveled. His dark hair was windblown, he hadn’t shaved, and he wore board shorts and a tight tee with a...small tear in it, right at the abs. Arip? She couldn’t believe that Max owned a piece of clothing with an actual rip in it. Obviously, he hadn’t expected anyone but Sub this morning.
Boy, sometimes Ava could be clueless. Max had obviously needed some alone time this morning and she’d ruined that for him. She’d been just so excited to see him that she hadn’t wanted to wait. And she adored surprises. Then again, not everyone did. This had always been her issue. Trying to bring a little sunshine even when it wasn’t needed.
“Oh, Max. I’m sorry. I should have called first. You obviously want to be alone. Well, you and Sub.”
Both of his big hands slid down her arms to settle on her waist. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“But—”
He picked up her bag and walked it into the kitchen, setting it on the counter. “Thing is, I wasn’t sure I wanted you to know this about me just yet. I’d like to think we’re still in the honeymoon period.”
“Wh-what? What didn’t you want me to know?”
He gave her a sheepish look from underneath those long lashes. “I’m kind of a gardener in my spare time.”
“And...that’s it?” She wanted to collapse on the floor in relief. Max liked to garden. Shocking, yes, but a good shock.
He smirked. “You look surprised.”
“What’s wrong with gardening?” She went into his arms, and he returned her embrace. She smelled potting soil on him, a wonderful earthy scent. My goodness, she loved this luscious, slightly rumpled Max.
So...human and real.
“Nothing at all even if I’m a little obsessed. It’s in my blood. Remember, I grew up in the picking fields of Watsonville. I’ve always loved growing things.”
Maybe he believed the kind of woman he’d been after from his “list” might not be impressed with a gardener. Thank goodness he’d moved on from all that.
“Did you forget I had an affair with a Colombian farmer?”
He rolled his shoulders. “How could I forgetthat?”
“I want to see what you’re growing.”
He took her hand and led her through open sliding glass doors to a stone-paved terrace. “I’m no Colombian farmer, but let me show you what I’ve got.”
The home didn’t have a large backyard, but it appeared that Max had made the most out of every square foot of space. There were four square wooden garden boxes overflowing with green. Luscious strawberries and cherry tomatoes grew in baskets hung from the outdoor trellis. A complex irrigation system seemed to be at the center of it all.
“I’m so impressed.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a work in progress.”
