The greenhouse was humid despite the brisk autumn weather, a wall of thick air that absorbed me, pulled me in behind Kash. It smelled like heaven, of wet earth and perfumed blossoms, of leaves and moisture. It was alive, the heady fragrance so elemental, it seemed to call to something deep in my chest—remember me?
“Statham wedding is the one Tess is most excited about,” he said as we walked. “It’s rare we get anyone who trusts us enough to incorporate cabbage in their floral arrangements.”
I chuckled. “Well, the bride is an interior decorator, so she’s a little more avant-garde than most.”
He stopped in front of a series of planters suspended from the wooden rack that ran the length of the greenhouse. In each planter sat row after row of blooming cabbage—purple and white crane cabbage that looked like delicate roses, the green crane reminiscent of succulents. A feathered varietal, veined like coral.
“They’re coming in nicely,” he said, thumbing a leaf before rooting around in the dirt to free what had been caught under a fresh dusting of earth.
“They’re beautiful. I can’t believe they’re not flowers.”
His smile tilted. “Nature’s a curious thing. Sometimes it disguises one thing as another, hides its nature to protect it.”
“Indeed it does,” I agreed quietly, struck by the sentiment.
Kash jerked his chin toward the back of the greenhouse. “I’ve got the greenery we ordered for you, if you want to see.”
“I do, thank you.”
I followed him, the two of us pausing at the marigolds to peer at their lush amber heads. Sometimes nature disguises one thing as another. How true it was. There was more to Kash Bennet than I’d realized, a revelation that struck me like a match.
There was more to me too. And I wondered what he was hiding to protect himself. I wondered if he knew what I didn’t say, what I didn’t show, and got the distinct impression that he did.
It was as thrilling a thought as it was terrifying.
Once at the black buckets lining the workspace in the back, he guided me to the relevant greenery.
“Rose hips,” he said, gesturing to the red and green berries, fat and shiny. “Sedum.” He reached for a stem topped with a plain of tiny flowers of white and dusky lavender. “Is this lavender too pink? I promised somebody I wouldn’t screw this up, and I’d hate to go back on my word.”
I chuckled, ignoring the tingle of warmth in my cheeks. “They’re perfect.”
“The succulents came in too.” He stepped to the table where trays of succulents and vibrant mosses waited for my approval. Tenderly, he scooped up a succulent that burst from deep purple to vivid green, center to tip. It sat in his broad, cupped hand, roots in its dirt in his palm. “For the centerpieces,” he said.
“They’ll look brilliant.”
He smiled, returning it to its home and dusting off his hands. “There were other flowers we don’t have space to grow, but they’re in the cooler. White anemones, tulips, and hyacinth for the bouquet and touches in the centerpieces. Tess made the garland mostly out of purple amaranth, strung it with feather tops and sprigs of dusty miller.” He reached for what I thought was a pile of furry lavender falls, pale feathery yellows, and silvery-green leaves dotted with buds, but when he spread his arms, the garland hung before him.
I drew a slight breath of surprise. “She is a genius,” I said, eyes trailing the details of the strung grasses. “The bride is going to cry, and we’ll all get a raise.”
At that, he laughed. “I don’t need tears. I’ll accept anything, except for her coming after you like the Berkshire girl.”
“Well, they were the wrong color,” I noted, but I couldn’t help but smile. “Anyway, you got yours—I ended up planted in the greenhouse.”
“Should I be expecting a dry cleaning bill?” He smirked as he folded the garland, spooling it onto the table.
“Without a doubt. Consider the flowers officially approved. And thank you for letting me micromanage you. I know it’s not typical for an event planner to come second-guessing your work.”
“It’s more common than you might think. And I don’t mind, Lila.”
Something in my chest snagged at the sound of my name from his lips. I laughed it off. “Not much ruffles you, does it, Kash?”
One of his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “You’ve met my family. It’s no place for someone who’s easily annoyed. We all learned early how to irritate each other and weather each other’s irritations.”
“Fair enough, but you’re particularly unflappable.”
“A trait I inherited from my father. I don’t think he’s ever been in an argument a day in his life even though my mother seems to argue with him daily. He just sits and listens and nods, and in the end, he imparts some deep and poignant wisdom on you. It’s his special skill, aside from this.” He swept a hand toward the greenhouse, wall to wall.
I looked over the rows of color and life, smiling to myself through a stretch of silence, not realizing he was watching me until he spoke.
“I’m sorry. About your boyfriend.”
A shot of pain, and my smile was gone. I turned my gaze on him. “Excuse me?”
He had the decency to look at least a little cowed, but he crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the worktable, the picture of amiability. Nothing about him seemed dangerous. But every warning bell rang, setting my spine stiff.
“Ivy and Tess were talking about it. Ivy wasn’t gossiping or anything, just venting. She’s not happy with him.”
“That makes two of us,” I said shortly.
He watched me for a beat. “He’s a fool, you know.”
Another jolt, this one hotter. “So am I.”
His brows flicked together, more concerned than put off. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “What happened … it’s not your fault.”
The words hit me like a battering ram, freezing my lungs and holding the breath there. For a moment, I said nothing, just stood there, tracing those words with my heart. I hadn’t realized until he’d said it that was exactly how I felt beneath my armor of rightness and false certainty. That even if I hadn’t driven him to cheat on me, which I probably had, I hadn’t known. It was my fault if for no other reason than I was blind. Stupid. Wrong.
A squeeze of my throat prompted me to swallow. And Kash just watched, his face touched with concern and earnest care. There was another edge too, singed by anger. Anger at Brock, I realized.
He pushed off the table and stood, busying himself with various unimportant items on the table as he spoke, changing the subject. “I’ve got the concepts for your spring weddings and planted what you’ll need. As soon as I have something blooming, you’ll know. And I’ll see you this weekend for the wedding.”
“You’ll be delivering the flowers?” I asked, surprised.
He shot me a sideways smile. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“I’m not. It’s just that it’s usually Luke.”
“He and Tess are busy with an installation, so it’ll just be you and me. Unless you have any objections.”
The thrill I felt shocked me. Maybe seeing him all cleaned up over the last few weeks did something to my brain, because the truth was that regardless of how gorgeous he was, we were nothing alike. I spent my weekends at events that cost four thousand a head. He spent his playing in the dirt. I had a bottomless well of ambition, and he had worked in the greenhouse since he was a teenager. I was uptight and closed off, and he was easy and open. Where I wore a mask, what you saw with Kash was exactly what you got.