Page 31 of Ember Meadow
I look down to find his nose about an inch away from mine. His arms are wrapped around me, holding me in place, and mine are tucked into his firm chest. The magnetic force that has been pulling me towards him since I stepped foot on this ranch only gets stronger now that we are closer than we have been in years.
An electric current passes between us. Miles’s hands tighten around my waist, and instead of pushing me away like I expect him to do, he grips me slightly tighter. Suddenly I’m back in that bar four years ago, hoping he’ll want me back.
My hair falls around us, glowing fire red in the light of the sunset. My fingers itch to touch him, to move across his chest, but I’m pressed up against him too tightly to move my arms.
I’m entranced. I couldn’t pop this bubble if I wanted to. I could stare at him for hours, lost in the swirl of brown in his eyes. Electricity flows between us like a river, pushing and pulling us together.
“Hey, Katie?” Miles whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Your elbow is in my ribs.”
I fall out of the clouds and back into my own head. “Shit, sorry. I should probably move.”
The ungraceful way I stumble off of him and onto my feet is a testament to my current state of being. My thoughts are jumbled, trying to work out what is happening between us. I brush off my shorts and fix my hair as best I can as Miles pushes himself up to his feet.
“Did the stairs… move?” I ask, voice wobbly.
Miles brushes off his arms, covered in dust from the dirt walkway. “It sure felt like it.”
“Weird,” I breathe. Logically, I know the floor can’t just move out from under you. But, barring an earthquake that didn’t seem to affect anything else, I’m not quite sure what happened. I’d blame it on my own clumsiness if Miles hadn’t felt it too.
“I’m gonna set this guy out back. Any place you’re thinking of planting it?” Miles gestures to the plant on the porch, forgotten in the chaos of what just happened.
“I’ll come with you,” I offer.
We walk back to the flower bed up against the back of the cabin. One side contains my marigolds and other flowers I’ve planted that are thriving in the new soil. I’m proud of them. But on the other side of the back porch, there’s an open spot I haven’t gotten to yet. I always meant to find something for that spot, I just haven’t found the right plant.
“Right there,” I point. Miles sets the pot down in the grass next to the flower bed.
“Roger that,” he says, picking up the shovel I left leaning against the cabin. With one swing of his arm, he plants the shovel in the ground, starting on the hole for the Gaillardia to be planted in. “This one is called Arizona Sun. I think the name matches pretty well.”
“You’re planting it now?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he responds, digging a few inches into the soil, “is that a problem?”
“No, no problem at all. I’ll stay and help.”
“You don’t have to stay, I’m sure you have things to do,” he says.
I laugh. “What else do I have to do? This is it right here. Plus, this is the fun part. It’s the painting and drywall that gets tedious.”
We work together planting the bush of flowers. Digging the hole, spreading some of the potting soil I bought before lifting the plant out of the pot and into the ground. Watering the soil to pack it down.
We don’t talk much, just sitting comfortably in each other’s presence. I find myself laughing a lot more than I do when I’m gardening by myself. Miles does too. Especially when I go to pat the dirt down only to have it spray back up into my face.
“It looks so much smaller than it did in the pot.” I clap my gloved hands together, sending a small dust cloud out into the night.
Miles nods, picking up the last of our gardening tools. “It’ll grow.”
“Thanks for doing this for me. I don’t think anyone besides my aunt has ever given me a plant before.” I take my gloves off, setting them on the cement back porch.
“It’s really not that big of a deal, it’s just a plant,” Miles grumbles, but the smallest sparkle glints in his eye.
Arizona Sun Gaillardia.
It may be just a plant, but it’s my new favorite plant in the entire world.
