“I—what?”
He pointed to the half-assembled wreath in my lap. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you really ought to use different flowers. Those yellow ones are all wrong for you. You need something that better matches the pink of your cheeks.” He snatched up a creamy, white clover blossom and held it close to my face to compare. “This suits you better.”
“It’s not for me,” I said, ducking away, lest he guess how much I hoped his fingers might accidentally brush against my skin. “It’s for my sister, for her birthday.”
“Today?”
I nodded.
“Be sure to wish her many happy returns for me.”
“And who shall I say is wishing?” I asked, feeling recklessly bold.
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes warm and amber today as they studied me. “Why, Price, of course.”
“That can’t truly be your name.”
He smiled, and I noticed two deep dimples situated perfectly in the centers of his cheeks. “Can’t it?”
“It doesn’t suit you,” I said, using his words against him.
The dimples flashed again, and I grabbed a fistful of yellow flowers so that I’d have something else to occupy my thoughts.
“All right, fine. I lied to your father. You’re terribly perceptive, you know.” He picked a second clover blossom and tied its stem to the other. “I rather like that.”
“Why would you lie?”
He added another flower to his chain and another after that. “I’m new here. I don’t know anyone. No one knows me. Why should I freely offer my name?”
“So people can get to know you.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome to learn all you like about me. My name hardly changes who I am.”
“What about your family name?”
He scoffed, his voice turning dark. “My family name has absolutely nothing to do with who I am.”
He’d told Papa he was traveling without parents, and I wondered why. Had he left voluntarily, or had they been taken away, captured, or killed? Amity Falls didn’t receive much news of the outside world, but I did know that bandits roamed the West, robbing wagon trains, stealing supplies and life savings before riding off in clouds of dust. Some of their names were even more famous than the men who stopped them. Was this boy’s father one of those bandits? Was his surname tainted by crimes he’d not committed?
“Tell me all about the birthday girl,” he said, skillfully leading the conversation away. “Younger or older?”
“Younger. She turns eight today.” There were several Old-Man-of-the-Mountain sunflowers poking up from the rocks near him, and I stretched out to pluck one free. It would be the perfect center jewel for Sadie’s crown.
“And her name?”
My eyebrow arched skeptically at him. “Really?”
“Hand me that one, will you?” he asked, pointing to a perfectly white clover blossom near my thigh.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to make flower crowns.”
“I’ve many, many hidden talents, Ellerie Downing.” He tied off another loop. “My sister taught me how.”
“Younger or older?” I asked, mimicking him.
“Much younger. I was already thirteen when Ma had her. Amelia loved picking flowers. Could spend a whole afternoon out in a field, making crowns and necklaces and bracelets for everyone she knew.”
“And you wore every one of them, didn’t you?” I noticed he’d slipped into the past tense, speaking of her, but I didn’t comment. This was the most information he’d ever volunteered about himself.
He laughed. “I did….She got sick,” he added, sensing my curiosity.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
With a shrug, he finished off his chain, tying it into a circle. “Perfect for a fair-haired fairy queen,” he said, settling the wreath atop my head. He nodded approvingly. “I was right, those are the perfect flowers for you.”
My cheeks flushed red beneath the weight of his twinkling stare, and I grabbed at the first flower I spotted, just to have the chance to look away.
“I’m sure your beau will appreciate them tonight.”
“Tonight?” I echoed, not bothering to correct him.
“Pretty girl like you, I’m sure you’ve got at least one suitor serious enough to join your family celebration. What do you think he’ll bring little…” He trailed off, obviously hoping I’d slip up and fill his silence with my sister’s name.
“There won’t be any gift, I’m sure,” I said, and he wrinkled his nose, amused I hadn’t fallen for his trick.
“What a cad! If I was lucky enough to court someone as bright and lovely as you, you can be certain I’d bring your sister a grand present.”
“Would you?” I tried picturing him sitting on the porch as we shared our gifts, sipping a cup of punch and listening to one of Sadie’s jokes. The image filled me with an acute sense of longing, hitting me hard along my sternum.
He nodded seriously before swooping down like a bird of prey and plucking up a bit of green. He spun it between his fingers with an admiring twirl as I leaned toward him, straining to make it out.
“For luck in the coming year.”
His thumb brushed over the length of my forefinger as I took the tiny treasure from him.
“A four-leaf clover!” I exclaimed. Though I’d spent many afternoons in my childhood searching for them, they’d always eluded me. It was a beautiful specimen—each leaf a deep shade of emerald and perfectly identical to the others. “However did you see it?”
He shrugged, mustering more modesty than I would have given him credit for. “I’ve always been good at finding them.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen one….Sadie will love it,” I admitted, before realizing what I’d done. I clapped my hand to my mouth.
“Tell Sadie Downing I wish her every happiness today,” he said around a wide grin.
I carefully tucked the precious sprig deep into my dress’s pocket, then ran my fingers over the clovers in front of me, searching for one of my own. A sea of three-leafed plants stared back.
“Can I give you a tip?” he asked, taking the opportunity to kneel next to me, so close our thighs bumped against one another. He bent over the clover, resting on his forearms as he searched. “You can usually find them on the outskirts of the patch.”