Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I browsed around, grabbed some peaches—I mean, I was in Georgia now, so I had to. There was a flower stand toward the edge. They had a mix of daisies and marigolds that were the brightest orange I’d ever seen, so I grabbed that too.
The woman at the booth smiled at me. She looked kind, with freckles all over her face and red hair piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail.
“Cohen Mitchell, right?” she asked as I started making my way back to the car.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, hoping I got that right.
“I knew you were back in town, of course, but I wanted to give you a little space. I know how overwhelming Buckridge can be.”
Well, damn. That was different. No one else in town had offered me that yet. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” She picked dead leaves off one of the plants. “I, um…I knew your mama.” Immediately, I tensed up. “Uh-oh. That bad, huh? I wondered if it might be. I’m not going to harass you or give you any crazy stories. I know how many of them go around.”
For the first time since someone random mentioned my mom, hell, my family in general, I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
She looked around before her gaze found mine again. “My name is Amelia, and your mama…well, she used to be my best friend. Pam was one of the best women I’ve ever known.”
My pulse began to race in the best way. This was the kind of thing I wanted to hear. Not horror stories or rumors. “Really?” There was a neediness to my voice I wasn’t even embarrassed of.
“Yep. And you, oh boy, when she found out she was pregnant with you, she was so damn happy. Pam always wanted to be a mom, and she loved Harris so much. You were her dream.”
My eyes began to pool slightly, a calmness settling into my chest I hadn’t felt…maybe ever. “I was?”
“Yep. You sure were. I was the only person she told when she was leaving. Your daddy and her, they didn’t want me involved because Bobby Mitchell was a mean sonofabitch, so she said goodbye and didn’t tell me where she was going, just that she was going to raise her son away from Bobby Mitchell. Broke my heart when she passed. Harris told me about it. Damn near broke him.”
My heart was thudding so hard, so fast, I was worried I might pass out. “Did he say anything about me?”
“He said you were safe, that he loved you, and that you were better off without him. He didn’t say it, but I don’t think Harris thought he deserved you. I think he felt like he let both you and Pam down.”
Her words nearly sucked the air out of my lungs. It was the first time someone had said something positive to me about my parents.
“Crazy as it is here, your mama loved Buckridge.”
“I think I do too.” The words shocked me. Sure, I loved the property, the house, the idea of getting Mitchell Creek off the ground, Lauren, and yeah, the townspeople made me crazy, but…I almost felt my mom here too, in a way I didn’t in San Francisco. Even the weirdness of the people could be endearing sometimes.
“Good. I think your mama would have liked that. Listen, I’m about to close up shop, and it looks like you have a date or something too? If you’d like, we can exchange phone numbers, and I can share some Pam and Harris stories with you sometime.”
“I’d like that.” I maybe needed it. We swapped numbers. When I tried to pay Amelia for the flowers, she turned it down.
“Your mama loved marigolds too.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I hope you plan on sticking around, Cohen Mitchell.”
“I do.” With one more smile her way, I headed for the car.
I pulled up at the house at five till seven. Brody’s ass better be ready because that was all the time I could give him.
As soon as I got inside, the scent of garlic and the sound of sizzling oil met me. Flowers and peaches in hand, I leaned against the entryway to the kitchen, feeling giddy over him, over Amelia. Maybe that was a sign. Maybe things would get better. Maybe we could figure out the whole Big Daddy and Dwain issue.
Brody had his back to me. He was wearing jeans and a tee, along with an apron over it. He was busy flipping food and stirring things a little frantically, to be honest. It was cute as hell. I didn’t know what it was about him, but he was like this constant pulse beneath my skin.
“Ouch. Shit!” Brody jerked his hand back, shaking it.
“Something wrong?” I asked, and he whipped around to face me.