Page 81 of Royally Matched

Uh-oh.

Gardening just got sexy.

“What do you …err, like about it?” I ask, pushing an image away of a shirtless Marco working the land, his taut muscles gleaming in the sunlight.

“Everything. It allows me to be creative with actual living things, transforming outdoor spaces into beautiful but functional areas. I love getting my hands dirty, feelingthe earth as I work with nature. There really is an immense satisfaction in seeing a project come to life. I need the opportunity to work on more projects. The Tideswell Community Garden was voluntary, but I’d like to get some actual commissions, ones that pay me rather than the other way around.”

“Have you applied for any projects?”

“There’s a new design initiative proposed by the Villadorata City Council that I would love to win. It’s transforming Cornwall Park. They’re very loose with what they want exactly, so it’s really got my creative juices flowing.”

“It sounds like a big project.”

“Oh, it’s way too big for just me. I would need a whole team of people, but I’ve got some good ideas.”

“Do you care to share them with me?”

“The park is located in a working class area in the city, an area I know pretty well. Right now it’s a rose garden where homeless people sleep on the benches. The place is crying out for a kids’ playground, something that can spark their imagination and allow them to run around outside in a green space. That’s my proposal, with a pirate theme, mainly because I liked pirates as a kid, so I figured other kids would too.”

“I hope you get the commission.”

“It’s a longshot, but it’s a shot.”

He clearly loves what he does, and it’s fascinating to listen to him as he talks about something he cares so deeply about. It’s an attractive trait, and I smile as I listen, my heart calling out to me that this is the kind of man I should be with.

This is the kind of man who could love me.

This is the kind of man Ideserve.

Only I’m too scared to allow myself to take that giant, unpredictable leap of faith.

Chapter 22

Marco

“Tell me about your parents,” Sofia says.

“Why do you want to know about my parents?” I ask lightly, masking the pain that lies so close to the surface.

“I know that you lost your father, and I’m so sorry about that.”

“How did you—?” I pull my lips into a line. “Is that from your spreadsheet?”

“No. Of course not. Enzo mentioned it.”

“I see,” I grind out, not only becauseit’s a sensitive subject, but because I wasn’t the one to share it with her. It was my brother.

I flex my jaw, tension seizing my shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I asked.”

“It’s okay. I suppose being back here in Ledonia reminds me that he’s not around anymore.”

“That must be so hard.”

“It’s no picnic.”

“What was he like?”