Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (23 page)

by Tracy March

Ellie London stepped into the tiny Thistle Bend post office lugging two big tote bags overflowing with packages. All but one of them would fulfill orders from the quirky, eighty-some-year-old Montgomery sisters’ Internet business. Whether it was for pastries or preserves, tinctures or tonics, demand just kept growing for anything those two little old ladies decided to sell.

“Afternoon, Ellie,” Bert Kaspar said as she stepped up to the scarred counter. “Nice day for a Monday—sunny, mild. Perfect for July.”

Bert had worked at the post office as long as Ellie could remember. Once upon a time, his hair had been thick and brown, but it had gotten gray and thin, as if most of it had moved from his head down to the bushy gray walrus mustache that covered his upper lip.

“The wildflowers are smiling, that’s for sure.” Ellie carefully set the totes on the floor in front of the counter and smoothed the side of her coral sundress where it had bunched up a little beneath the weight of the bags.

Bert raised his thick eyebrows, his eyes glimmering. “Lots of orders for your artwork, I see.”

Ellie winced—inside and out. “Just one, I’m afraid.”

If only she had half the demand that the Montgomery sisters did for their products, her dream of making a living as an artist would finally be flirting with reality. She had her fans, but her work just hadn’t taken off.

Yet.

Ellie had invested more in her heart than her art while she’d lived in Phoenix with her former fiancé Noah. Her chest tightened with regret, but not as much as it had the last time she’d thought of him…

And how everything fell apart.

But now that she was settled back in Thistle Bend—with a job that plenty of people envied—she was putting her life back together again.

One day at a time.

Ellie was learning all about gardening and baking and business from Millicent and Merribelle Montgomery, two spritely ladies regularly described as
Charmed
meets the
Golden Girls
with a little
Bewitched
thrown in for fun.

Living in a gingerbread-style guesthouse on their exquisite property up beyond Narrowleaf Pass was an added bonus. An extra bedroom served as her studio, an open space with a view of rolling hills of wildflowers, and craggy Rocky Mountain peaks in the distance. There was no better place to create something special that would sell, and she hoped to do it there—to find the perfect combination of materials and magic.

Milly and Merri had given Ellie free rein of their vast acreage to collect leaves and flowers, and anything else that might make her nature sculptures unique and captivating. July was the perfect time for gathering in Thistle Bend—officially known as the Wildflower Capital of Colorado. Every square foot of open land seemed to have flowers in bloom. Ellie had incorporated some beautiful recent finds into several designs. One order, so far, but no magic
.

“I keep hoping,” she said as she handed Bert the packages one by one.

“It’ll happen when the time is right.” He processed the flat-rate boxes quickly. “Real soon, I’m bettin’.”

Ellie lifted her hand, crossed her fingers, and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“You’ve gotten quite a tan huntin’ down all those flowers,” Bert said. “Your hair is as blond as it was when you were little—and your eyes look even bluer.”

Ellie glanced at her forearm, golden brown against the once-white countertop, and nodded. “You know how strong the Colorado sun can be.” She could say the same for the Arizona sun since she’d spent the last two years there with Noah. This time her heart hitched as she thought of him. She instinctively massaged her ring finger down near the base where her engagement ring used to be.

“Don’t get much of it in here,” Bert said. “Except when you come in.”

“Aw, thanks, Bert.” Ellie blushed a little, heat warming her cheeks. Somewhere else, a twenty-nine-year-old girl might find his comments creepy. But everyone in Thistle Bend was like one big family, and Bert was the kind, supportive uncle. He’d be right there, happily processing every package if sales of her artwork ever started to soar.

When
sales of my artwork start to soar.

Things
had
to get better, and she had to stay positive and believe they would.

“You’re good to go.” Bert reached beneath the counter and handed her several stacks of flattened shipping boxes.

“We’ll have orders to fill these by Wednesday, for sure.” Ellie tucked the boxes into her tote bags. “Superior service, as usual. You’ve definitely got my vote for postal employee of the year.” She winked.

Bert flattened his palm in the middle of his broad chest. “I’ll thank you in my acceptance speech.”

Ellie grinned as she headed outside, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.

Tourists and locals strolled along the sidewalks of Larkspur Avenue, Thistle Bend’s main street. Ellie had lived there most of her life, yet the artist in her never failed to appreciate the whimsical beauty of the restored Victorian mining town surrounded by majestic mountain peaks. Along the avenue, historical buildings had been lovingly restored, painted brightly in hues of blue, yellow, orange, purple, and green. The scene brought to mind a Wild West set from the black-and-white movie days that had been vibrantly colorized and brought to real life. Deep green spruce trees and silvery aspens peeked from above and between the buildings. Planters overflowing with wildflowers flanked the streets, and billowing baskets of them hung at the doors of most businesses, bursting with an array of variegated blooms.

Home…

Ellie’s friend Holly Birdsong waited beneath the shade of the post office awning, having hung back to check out the real estate listings posted in the window of the realty company next door. Summer was prime time for sales in town and at the ski resort on nearby Paintbrush Peak, and Holly was the most sought-after real estate attorney in town. Wearing a loose lavender top, jeans, and low suede boots the color of bleached sand, Holly stood in front of a nearby community information board. Her eyes were narrowed as she focused on one of the notices.

Ellie joined her, scanning the flyers on the board. “Lots of potential business from the realty company?”

Holly tucked her auburn hair behind her ear, leaned in close, and whispered, “Lots of potential.” She caught Ellie’s gaze and tipped her head toward a guy about their age who sat on a bench several yards away, eating ice cream from Get the Scoop, where they sold the most unique, irresistible homemade flavors. His was a caramel-colored concoction—maybe peanut butter praline or salted caramel snickerdoodle, although he didn’t look like the snickerdoodle type.

More like molten chocolate lava cake with a cherry vanilla swirl.

Ellie thought that Noah had cured her of her attraction to scorchingly hot men. But as she sized up the guy, watching him casually lick his ice cream and run his tongue across his full lips, she suddenly realized she might be coming down with it again. “There aren’t many properties like that in town.”

She self-consciously bowed her head, her long, wavy hair falling around her face—nearly a dead-on match for the blondish color of his. He wore it very short, which really worked for him since his clean-shaven face was seriously stunning—straight nose, strong jaw, light eyes. Gray-green, it appeared, yet it was difficult to tell from her angle. His light blue polo shirt pulled a little across his sturdy shoulders, and his cargo shorts revealed nicely muscled calves.

“No chicken legs there,” Ellie whispered.

Holly stole another glance at him and grinned appreciatively. “No chicken anything.”

Military?

His fit build and posture had Ellie guessing yes. And if that was the case, she hoped he’d brought along his entire platoon if they looked anything like him.

His long legs hinted at his height, and Ellie couldn’t wait for him to stand up so she could get the full picture.

Strictly from an artist’s perspective.

She was willing to burn some time and wait for it. Although Holly was hot and heavy with Bryce Bennett, the adventure hotelier who’d come to Thistle Bend to renovate the abandoned Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge, she’d pointed out the “potential,” and was a good enough friend to stick around so they could max out their exposure to such a hot property—all for Ellie’s sake, of course.

Ellie sighed, satisfied to grab a glance every moment or two. She forced herself to look at the flyers so she’d appear somewhat legit if he happened to notice her. “There’s a lecture at the Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum Wednesday night,” she said. “ ‘Hummingbirds and the Art of Wildflower Science.’ ” She raised her eyebrows, signaling Holly to play along.

Holly nodded. Her hazel eyes widened and she cut a look at the ice cream guy. “Sounds like something you’d be interested in, right? Wildflowers. Art. Science.”

“Maybe.” Ellie trailed her finger down the flyer. “It’s a researcher from RMBL.”

The Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory—commonly known as “rumble”—was a rugged research outpost located along a dirt road a little more than eight miles from Thistle Bend. Students and researchers spent summers there studying an array of subjects from storm patterns to stream biology, and butterflies to bumblebees.

“Dr. Collin Cooper is giving the lecture.” Ellie scrunched her nose. “Poor guy probably hasn’t used a real toilet in the last six weeks, or showered in days,” she said quietly, feeling sincerely sorry for people who had to live without proper plumbing.

Holly winced.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to spend a summer up there.” Ellie shook her head ruefully, “living in a cabin without running water. And they literally use outhouses. There’s a building with some showers in it, but there are a hundred and sixty people on-site, so when does everyone get to bathe?”

“But you’d like the lecture, wouldn’t you?” Holly asked, oddly diverting the conversation just as the ice cream guy stood and headed their way.

Ellie dared to meet his gaze—confirming the gray-green eyes, and giving her pulse a jolt. He strolled past them with a swagger in his step, looking as fine from the back as he had from the front. She gazed after him until he stopped, turned around, and approached her and Holly. His easy smile sent Ellie’s heart up into her throat.

“I heard you ladies mention the lecture Wednesday night.” His voice poured over her like the molten chocolate lava she’d imagined, complete with the cherry vanilla swirl, and topped with whipped cream.

Holly nodded confidently. “ ‘Hummingbirds and the Art of Wildflower Science.’ ”

“Think it’ll be interesting?” He leveled his gray-green gaze on Ellie, and she caught the slightest tinge of his cologne—something crisp and clean and manly.

Um…

“It might be,” Ellie said. “If you’re into art and wildflowers.”

He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes as if he expected her to say more.

She swallowed hard. “Which can be really captivating, especially with all the varieties we have around here. I’m an artist—kind of,” she said shyly. She collected materials and designed things and called them art but, until she could make a living from her work, could she honestly call herself an artist? “I mean, that’s why I’m interested. The subject might seem a little girly for you, but a guy is giving the lecture, so there’s that. You should go if…”

And I should stop talking.

She gripped the handles of the tote bags that hung from her shoulder. Unless he was into flat-rate shipping boxes, there was nothing appealing about her look.

One corner of his mouth turned up, revealing a shallow dimple. “I’m the guy.”

Oh, God.

Heat rose in Ellie’s face as her stunned gaze darted to Holly and then to the flyer on the information board. “You’re Dr. Collin Cooper? The art and wildflowers guy—and hummingbirds?” She rolled her lips in and rubbed them together, wishing she could sink into the sidewalk.

“That’s me,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Not girly,” Ellie muttered and shot Holly a pained look. “I didn’t mean—”

“No worries,” he said, seeming perfectly confident in his masculinity.

Ellie snuck in a once-over, taking in the muscular curves and angles of his body, perfectly confident in his masculinity herself.

“You should come to the lecture,” he said. “Since you’re into art and wildflowers.” He raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that no sane woman could say no to.

Ellie’s heart ticked faster, a little ache in each beat. She knew all too well where looks like that could lead. “I…”

“You might even like the part about hummingbirds.”

“I would,” she said. “Hummingbirds are good.”

Hummingbirds are good? C’mon, Ellie. Say something reasonably intelligent.

He hooked his thumb into the pocket of his cargo shorts, and raised his chin. “I’ll make a deal with you. Promise me you’ll come to the lecture, and I promise you I’ll shower.” He gave her a wry wink, swaggered over to a muddy black Jeep parked nearby, got in, and drove away.

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