Page 3 of Evergreen Desires
"It's all about the right strains, genetics, and what I like to call our secret sauce. But thanks anyway.Talk to you later. Bye." I hang up before I can let Rich start his protest, gear up for his harder sales pitch, or retool his shakedown tactics. Ultimately, I don’t care what it is he’s saying.
As I head back to the greenhouse, I trip over the door transition and stub my toe, hissing at the pain. "Damn it!"
Why am I so easily distracted? This isn't like me.
CHAPTER 3
JAKE
The first rays of the sun peered through the trees, signaling the end of any hope for a peaceful slumberNot that I’d really slept. I’d spent most of the night shifting in the cramped seat, trying to find a position that didn’t leave my legs numb or my neck twisted at some impossible angle. Every time I started to drift off, the cold would snake its way in through the windows and settle in my bones. My jacket barely helped, and the blanket I’d stashed in the car was more symbolic than useful.
My body ached, and my head wasn’t much better. Thoughts kept circling—tight and restless. Regret. Guilt. The gnawing sense that I was completely untethered. Every bad choice I’d ever made felt like it had followed me into this car and was now camped out in the front seat, staring me down.
Note to self: find better accommodations for tonight. Assuming that is possible.
Now in the light of day, it was clear I had barely made it into town last night. If my car had broken down farther back down the road, I would have been screwed. Thedarkness had obscured my view, leaving me with only a glimpse of what lay ahead. Armsville wasn’t much bigger—but it had more shape, more detail. The buildings looked old but well cared for, with flower boxes hanging under windows and hand-painted signs above storefronts. A faded mural of a logging scene stretched across one brick wall, chipped and weathered but oddly charming. The forest framed the town like a green wall, thick and endless, with steam rising gently from the underbrush where the morning sun met the cold ground. Stepping out of the car, I stretched my weary limbs and hurried across the street to the nearby wooded area for a quick nature break.
Returning to the car, I did a quick pit check and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to salvage my usual messy spiked look. It seemed to suit the disheveled appearance I have adopted since hitting the road. "Clearly forward-looking," I muttered to myself, trying to find a silver lining in my current predicament.
I spotted a sign for a diner a couple of blocks down the road, and my stomach growled.Clearly, it was time for breakfast and a chance to freshen up in their bathroom. Grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag, I stuffed them into my pocket and headed towards the diner.
As I walked inside, I found myself in one of those charming little diners typical of small towns. The place had a few occupied tables—a group of six older gentlemen engaged in a lively debate, a trio of middle-aged men in business casual attire, and some other scattered patrons. Thewaitress multitasking like a pro called out to me, "Just one? Sit anywhere you want. I'll be over in a minute. Coffee?"
"Thank you, and yes please," I replied, impressed by her efficiency. Watching her as she effortlessly juggled the demands of her regulars while also tending to me, I made my way towards the back row of booths.A quick glance around the diner, no one looked suspicious, so left my phone charger on the table to stake out my territory and popped into the bathroom.
Five minutes later, feeling refreshed, I returned to my table to find a steaming cup of coffee and a bowl of creamers waiting for me. The waitress had thoughtfully provided an array of both regular and flavored creamer pods. Impressed by her attention to detail, I fixed up my coffee, took a sip, and relished the warmth as I perused the menu.
Just as my food arrived, I noticed that two of the men from the business meeting have left. I had been engrossed in researching local garages on my phone, although I hadn't had much luck finding any options in town. However, I did learn that tractor parts could be ordered through the local hardware store. Not useful in this situation, but hey, it’s something.Well, at least I could enjoy this delicious-looking French toast while it was hot. The special with pecans, caramel, and cream cheese stuffing had me sold. As I indulged in the delectable breakfast, I became more attuned to my surroundings and tuned into the ongoing debate among the regulars.
The one remaining businessman had his attention diverted to a phone call. His attire suggested importance orperhaps self-importance, but no one seemed to pay him much mind. I overheard fragments of his conversation, catching phrases like "keep up the charade." He seemed frustrated, trying to persuade someone on the other end to agree to something. Abruptly, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, a look of familiar frustration on his face. He’d been hung up on. Ah, I knew that feeling too well. My ex used to hang up on me whenever my probing questions became too uncomfortable for him.
Just then, the police chief walked in through the front door, his uniform indicating his official role. I didn’t pay him much attention, focusing on savoring the last bites of my breakfast. He made his way towards the man in the suit who stood and extended his hand with one of those fake politician smiles. Perhaps this guy was indeed someone important. I caught a few snippets of their conversation between bites.
"How are you liking our sleepy little town so far? It's been about a week, hasn’t it?" the man asked the chief.
"Good to see you, Councilman. I'm settling in and getting to know the neighbors. I appreciate the quiet, although it's not always so sleepy here,"he replied.
They settled down for further discussion, and right on cue, the waitress appeared with her coffee pot, pouring a cup for the new arrival. Ah, small-town life—so different from the bustling Seattle metropolis.
Once I finished eating, I figured it was time to head back to my car; the library might offer better research options than my phone. I made my way to the front counter to settle the bill. To my surprise, the waitress suddenlymaterialized behind the register. She seemed to be really on top of things here. I handed her my debit card and profusely thanked her for the excellent service, apologizing for not noticing or expressing gratitude for the coffee refills.
"Honey, I zip around here so much that you might have said thank you and it got whisked away by the wind. But you're sincerely welcome," she replied with a warm smile. "Uh-oh, the card declined. Darn machine, let me try running it again."
Instant panic gripped me. "Oh, okay," I stammered, pulling out my phone to check my banking app and figure out what the issue might be. Suddenly, it hit me—I saw the problem just as the waitress, now doubling as the cashier, turned back to me.
"I'm sorry, it declined again. Do you have another card you want to try?" she asked, concern filling her eyes as the color drained from my face. "Honey, are you okay?"
"Gwendine, I got it," someone said from behind me.
I turned, startled, and found the police chief standing there, already pulling out his wallet.
"Ah, thank you. I'm sorry—it’s just—my ex drained my bank account and I..." The words spilled out faster than I could control. I felt heat rise in my chest, a mix of panic and embarrassment bubbling up. I hadn’t meant to make a scene, but the second I saw the total and realized I couldn’t cover it, my brain had gone into survival mode. Declan couldn’t just let me go—he’d sabotaged me. Emptied everything I had, like it was nothing.
I braced myself, waiting for judgment, suspicion, or maybe even handcuffs. But instead, the guy just paid. Calm. Casual.
“No worries, been there myself. Breakups can be tough,” he said with a wink.
Wait. Did he just wink at me?
