Page 22 of Reckless With You

So, I’d work.

And plan.

And do anything that wasn’t thinking about my poor life choices.

What I really wanted to do today was go out, get sweaty, and work. I wanted to be covered in dirt and just get shit done. Only we were nearing the holidays. And I lived in Denver fucking Colorado. That meant there was snow on the ground. And the earth was hard as ice. That was fine, I still had plenty to do considering that I’d added a greenhouse and other buildings onto my property. The frost wasn’t going to kick my ass.

But, unfortunately, I couldn’t go outside and let the sun beat down on my face. Because while the sun was out, it was frigid outside. So cold, my bones ached at the thought of it. I wasn’t even old enough to have aching bones, but here I was, hurting. Because of the cold. It was fine. Mostly because I needed it to be fine. I needed everything to be okay.

I might not be able to work outside, but I could work in my greenhouse. And get sweaty. And do all those normal things that usually calmed me. At least, I could try.

So, I put on my work boots, tried to ignore the pounding in my head, and headed out to my truck.

I had a few clients who needed some things done. Mostly maintenance on stuff they hadn’t winterized in time. While those clients used to be on contract, some of them had decided to terminate their contracts to see if they could do things on their own. And while I did my best to make sure everybody knew what they needed to do to keep plants alive, some people thought they had black thumbs, and then they proved to themselves that they had those black thumbs. I would help them get things fixed, and that was fine. I would teach them again, or I would just put them back under contract. Plants were life. They were literal life. Sometimes, things didn’t work out the way you wanted, and you needed a gentle helping hand. Or maybe even a firm one. I would figure it out, it’s what I did. And if I focused on work and what I needed to do there, I wouldn’t stress out about everything else as much.

Or, at least that’s what I told myself.

Because I really didn’t want to think about Tobey. Or Tucker. Apparently, it was my curse to make a fool of myself in front of men having names starting withT.

I was such an idiot.

No, I needed to stop degrading myself. People made mistakes. Then they got over them. I would get over this.

Eventually. Maybe no more tequila, though. Ever.

Yes, that was a saying that people used when they didn’t really mean it. But I was not going to drink tequila, ever again. At least not in those copious amounts. Because…dear God.

“Time to get going,” I told myself as I pulled into my place. I’d spent a good chunk of change as well as some of the bank’s to afford this little piece of paradise, but it was worth it.

I had my main building where people could come in for meetings and where I displayed a small showcase of what I could do. But my pride and joy was my greenhouse and the growing areas. Even though it was winter, I had things to do, and dirt to play with. Once I got dirty and had a little soil under my fingernails, I knew I’d be able to breathe again. I’d be able to bury all of the crap that had happened recently and justbe.

At least, I hoped so.

Amelia’s Greens was technically closed for the day, and I didn’t have any appointments unless something came up later. That meant I could put in my earbuds and simplywork.

The heat slid along my skin as I walked into my greenhouse. The familiar scents of plants, potting soil, flowers, greens, and pottery filled my nose, and I smiled.

This was home.

This would make everything okay.

And if it didn’t?

Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t be drinking tequila to try and fix things.

I let myself fall into my work for a good hour before I paused to take a drink and check my email. It was just the normal things. If I tried hard enough, I could imagine that I wasn’t here trying to ignore the rest of the world. But that I was getting work done and doing something I loved.

But every time I paused, each time I let my mind drift, I imagined the look on Tobey’s face, and then I imagined what Tucker had probably looked like when he saw me in my drunken state.

I owed him.

Not Tobey. I didn’t know what to think about him. But I really owed Tucker. I had acted like a fool, and while I had been in my own home, I hadn’t really been safe, and he’d been there to take care of me.

Maybe I should do something for him. Like, bake him a pie or something. I could bake, not as good as Erin could, but that was her job.

When I got home, I would bake him something. In fact, I was almost done for the day, so I would head to the grocery store, pick up what I needed, and then bake.

That would make things right. And once that was over, I would only have to worry about Tobey. Not that I had any idea what to do about that.