regardless of what you say, she’s going to hold me responsible for spoiling the day.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Emma protested.
“I’m afraid she would.” Sam pulled to a stop at the rental agency’s exit and glanced at her again. “She warned me two, maybe three times before we left to mind my manners and behave like a gentleman so you’d have a nice time. She said you deserved a day away, and she wanted me to make sure that it was as pleasant as possible.”
Emma groaned inwardly as she bent her head over the map again. She could almost hear Margaret saying the words. And she now knew without a doubt that she’d been right about that mischievous twinkle in her friend’s eyes.
She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Her only intention had been to spare Sam, and in all honesty herself, from several hours of strained silence punctuated by odd intervals of stilted conversation. But all she had actually succeeded in doing was putting both of them in an even more untenable position.
Had she just gritted her teeth and gotten with the program, they could have pretended to make the best of the situation. Now they each knew that the other would rather be anywhere but there. Margaret wanted to give Emma a respite of sorts, and she had elected Sam to do the honors in the hope that something more might come of their spending time together.
And something most certainly would. Only not what Margaret had in mind. Sam would consider her even more of a cross to bear. And she would have to work even harder at acting as if she didn’t have any feelings for him one way or another.
“Well, then, I supposed we ought to go to the nursery first,” she said, hoping her cheerfulness didn’t sound as false to him as it did to her. “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not far from here.” She looked at the street sign, then back at the map. “Turn right here, go down to the second intersection and turn left.”
“Emma, if you really want to go back, we can,” he offered. “Just because my mother gets a notion in her head doesn’t mean we have to go along with it. This is supposed to be your day, after all.”
“I know. But I do want to check out the roses at the nursery, and we’re already here.”
“Well, then, let’s go.” He turned out of the agency lot as she had directed, then glanced at her questioningly. “Left at the second intersection?”
“Yes, then down about two miles or so. According to the article I clipped out of the paper, the nursery should be on the right.”
They covered the relatively short distance in virtual silence. Sam seemed perfectly at ease. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, his shoulders relaxed, his long, lightly tanned legs stretched out in front of him as he gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, his attention focused on the road ahead.
Emma, on the other hand, sat rigidly in her seat, hands clasped knuckle white in her lap, so tense she could hardly draw a breath. She willed herself to say something inane, but the longer she waited, the more impossible it became. She could barely swallow around the nervous flutter in her throat, much less speak.
Sam had given her no reason to feel so uncomfortable in his presence. He hadn’t said or done anything to disparage her. Nor had he given any indication that he would.
He had argued for her staying at his mother’s house when he could have sent her packing. And he had just gone out of his way to make sure they did what she wanted now. All with the deference of a true gentleman.
As if the last time they had been together she hadn’t screamed at him like a madwoman, spewing out her hatred—
“This must be it,” Sam said, jerking her back to the present as he flicked on the turn signal and slowed the car. “Wimberly and Sons Nursery?”
“Yes, Wimberly and Sons Nursery,” she murmured, scrambling to gather her wits about her.
He seemed to have put the past behind him. Unless she succeeded in doing the same, the next few weeks were going to be unbearable.
Sam found a parking space under a leafy oak tree and switched off the engine.
“I won’t be long,” Emma said, reaching for the door handle.
“Take your time. I’m not in any hurry.” He, too, opened his car door.
Emma wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do while she prowled around the nursery’s spacious grounds. Even with the windows rolled down, it was too warm out for him to sit in the car. But he could have gone off on his own in search of something that might catch his interest—the goldfish pond, perhaps. Instead, he seemed quite content to trail after her.
At first, she was overly conscious of his presence close behind her. Gradually, however, as the beauty of the flowering rosebushes for sale captured her interest, she finally began to relax.
“I never realized there were so many different varieties of roses,” he said after a while.
“And they’re all so lovely,” she replied, trailing her fingers over the velvety pale yellow petals of an especially lush blossom.
“Are you looking for one bush in particular?”
“Several, actually. I have only modern hybrids in my garden at home. Now that they’re established, I want to add some Old Garden roses. They bloom only once in late spring or early summer, but they’re known for their wonderful fragrance. That makes their petals an especially favorable addition to potpourri,” she explained, then gestured to a long, wide plot set slightly apart from the others and marked aptly enough, Old Garden Roses. “Ah, here they are.”
Emma eyed the various containers carefully, and soon saw that the bushes she wanted were all available at prices she could afford.
“You’ve found what you were looking for, haven’t you?” Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yes, I have. But how did you know?”
She glanced at him curiously, but he was still wearing his sunglasses, making it all but impossible for her to determine exactly what he might be thinking.
“The way your eyes lit up. Like a kid on Christmas morning.”
Emma felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“That obvious, huh?”
“Yes, that obvious,” he replied in a kindly tone. “Why don’t I grab one of those little red wagons and help you load up, or will you need more than one?”
“One will be enough,” she assured him with a wry smile.
For just an instant, the ghost of an answering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Then he turned away to claim a wagon for her.
Feeling oddly lighthearted for the first time since the previous afternoon, Emma went about selecting the new additions to her garden. Two of the Great Maiden’s Blush bushes, known for their ivory coral-centered blooms. Two of the Leda bushes—a smaller, more compact shrub than the Maiden’s Blush featuring shell pink flowers picoteed with crimson. And two of the Tuscany bushes bearing semidouble dark red blooms.
Sam lifted the large, heavy containers into the wagon for her, then pulled it up to the counter where a clerk tallied her bill. Emma gladly wrote a check, her thoughts racing ahead to the following afternoon—the soonest she would be able to start putting her new rosebushes in the ground.
At the car, Emma spread the tarp she had brought over the floor of the trunk, then stood aside while Sam loaded the containers. Luckily, all six fit quite nicely. And thanks to the deep well, Sam was able to close the lid without crushing the tops of the bushes.
“Are you sure they’ll be all right in there?” he asked with obvious concern.
“They may look delicate, but they’re hearty enough and healthy enough to survive a lot worse than a few hours in the trunk of a car. So don’t worry. They’ll be fine,” she assured him as he helped her into the car.