“No bother. My job’s feeding folks. There’s tea, coffee, juice and milk. Help yourselves. How do you take your eggs?”
“We’re not particular,” Jessa assured the gruff but likable cook.
They were sitting before plates of fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and plump biscuits before Jessa could taste her coffee. No sooner did she lift a fork, however, than an outside door creaked open and Garrett Willows stepped up into the room.
“Morning, Hilda. What’s for breakfast?”
“Eggs and bacon, unless you want a ham steak,” came the answer as Hilda shifted a skillet around on the stove.
Garrett clumped across the floor in heavy work boots, heading for the coffee pot. He drew up short when he realized that Jessa and Hunter were seated at the table.
“You’re up early.”
Jessa nodded and quickly forked egg into her mouth. He poured himself a cup of black coffee and carried it to the table. Pulling out the end chair, he sat and laid one forearm along the edge of the table. Lifting his cup, he sipped then smiled at Hunter.
“Sleep okay?”
Hunter nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate. Garrett turned his blue eyes on Jessa. “He’s a quiet one.”
“Yes. Yes, he is.”
“How about you?”
She felt a bit off-balance, as if he’d just shaken that ladder again. Thankfully, she wasn’t about to find herself in his arms this time. Just the memory of that warmed her cheeks. “Uh, am I quiet?”
Garrett grinned. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d slept well, too.”
“Oh! I did, yes. Thank you.”
He sipped more coffee, eyeing her over the rim of his mug, before drawling, “That makes three of us, then.”
Jessa felt her face heat, as he called to the cook, “How about you, Hilda? How did you sleep?”
“Like a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound rock,” came the acerbic reply.
Garrett laughed silently into his mug, blue eyes twinkling. Was he making fun of the woman’s weight? Even if Hilda was making fun of herself, it seemed crude for him to be so amused.
Jessa tried to ignore him by eating. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop being supremely aware of him. Such fascination made no sense. The man was, if not her enemy, then at least her opponent. What difference did it make how handsome he was or how likable? Who cared if his eyes twinkled when he teased or how tanned and strong his hands looked? She was a fool to even notice such things, but notice she did. She just couldn’t seem to help herself, and that puzzled her.
Hilda came and dropped a plate onto the table in front of Garrett. “You didn’t say, so you get bacon.”
“Bacon suits me to a T,” he said, sending a smile up at her. “Is there honey for the biscuits?”
She snorted and waved her spatula. “Of course there’s honey for the biscuits. Right over there.”
Garrett looked in that direction then literally fluttered his long, inky eyelashes at her, imploring her with a look.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” she huffed, even as she trundled across the room for the honey pot. She plunked it down in front of him then stayed to talk about wedding cake. “I’ve been thinking of decorating Ellie’s cake with candied violets. That seems like Ellie, doesn’t it?”
Garrett nodded, cutting into a trio of over-easy eggs. “I’ve noticed that she favors purples.”
“Well, with those eyes, who wouldn’t?” Hilda said.
Jessa had noticed Ellie Monroe’s unusual coloring when they’d met. With hair a glossy slate gray and eyes like amethysts, purple would suit Ellie very well.
“We could have candied violets in the ice ring, too,” Hilda went on. “Wouldn’t that be pretty in a grape punch? And if we had some fresh violets, we could scatter them around the serving tables.”
Garrett just grunted and crammed a huge bite of egg-drenched biscuit into his mouth.
Jessa laid down her fork, mind whirling, and carefully inquired, “Where do you intend to get your flowers?”
“From the greenhouse out back,” Garrett answered off-handedly.
She gaped at him. “There’s a greenhouse?”
He nodded, gobbling bacon. “More than one, actually. We just added the second to the original.”
“A real, proper greenhouse?” Jessa pressed.
One corner of his lips hitched up in a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you be the judge?” He tucked in more food, chewed perfunctorily and said, “I can show you around when we’re done here.”
“Really?”
She hadn’t meant to sound so eager, especially when she found his company so troubling and he’d just dashed her hopes of supplying any flowers for the weddings. She loved plants, though. They offered beauty without ulterior motive, and peace came as a by-product. In fact, she never felt God’s presence more keenly than when surrounded by His leafy creations. Garrett’s willingness to afford her the opportunity surprised her, however.
He looked up from his plate, his gaze seeming to indicate that he’d read her thoughts. “I’ll be glad to show you around. I like showing off my greenhouse.”
“Your greenhouse?”
He shrugged. “As the gardener, I have free run of the place.”
She nearly dropped her fork. “You’re the gardener here?”
“Yep. What’d you think?”
She spread her hands in amazement. “I—I don’t know. Abby thought you might be a nephew.”
He straightened. “A Chatam nephew? Nope. My sister’s married to one, though. Good guy.”
“Then you are family.”
“Nope.” He hunched over his plate again. “My sister is family. I’m just hired help.”
Hilda “humphed” but said nothing. Garrett ignored her and, using his remaining biscuit, began mopping up the mess of honey, egg yolk and bacon grease on his plate.
Jessa tried to digest this information, but she couldn’t seem to make sense of it all. Family but not family, both Monroes marrying into the family, and Garrett Willows turning out to be the gardener. Plus, there was a greenhouse!
Garrett sat back with an “aahh” and patted his flat, firm middle. “Looks like I have violet pots to divide. Thankfully, we have a few weeks left to force some more blooms.” He waved a hand at Jessa’s
