Free to Dream (Amaryllis Series Book 1) by Tracey Jerald

Author:Tracey Jerald [Jerald, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tracey Jerald
Published: 2018-08-03T23:00:00+00:00

16

Cassidy

I’d just pulled the cheddar, bacon, and pecan pizza from the oven when my phone rang. Glancing at the name on the display, I answer it as I release a puff of air.

“Caleb.”

“Cassidy.” God, that voice. Low, warm, slightly husky, and a bit…echoy? Was he in the car already? I look at the clock and holy shit, it’s almost eight. Leaving the pizza to cool, I quickly begin straightening up the kitchen and make my way into the adjoining living space. As I quickly glance around my typically immaculate living area, I hear him through what must be the Bluetooth in his car.

“I’m about fifteen minutes out. I hope that’s not too soon? If you’re still busy, I can drive around a bit.” His voice is smooth, warm, anticipatory.

“No, no. That’s fine. I’m just putting a few last-minute things together.” Like me. Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out so he can’t hear me. “When you get through the farm’s gates, take the road to the right before you hit the main building. It will lead you to the other side of the lake. I’m in the carriage house.”

I hear the Porsche accelerate through the phone. “I’ll be seeing you soon then, Cassidy. Give or take fifteen minutes.” The phone disconnects in my ear.

I toss my cell on the couch and run up the stairs for my room, ripping my T-shirt over my head. Caleb is about fifteen minutes out. How did I completely manage to lose track of time? I know how. Up until a few minutes ago, I was too busy to even think about it. Now, with mild panic setting in, I’m asking myself what did one wear to have someone over for heavy conversation with the potential for…something?

Grabbing a pair of cranberry leggings and a black sweater that hits me mid-thigh, I quickly change as headlights pass outside the farm’s entrance. A quick brush of my hair and some gloss on my lips, I look at my reflection. Am I ready for this?

As I watch the lights round the front of the main building, I grab an old pair of Chucks from the bottom of my closet. Taking one last look at myself in my vintage full-length mirror, I imagine I come across like a college student and someone who is overly comfortable with her company. Neither could be further from the truth, I think wryly as I bound down the stairs just in time to hear Caleb knock on the door. Taking a few deep breaths, I reach for the handle.

And take a step back in surprise.

He’s bent down, fumbling with a bag that obviously holds a bottle of wine. I hear him cursing the frailty of dorky wine bottle bag handles as I stare at what he holds in his arms, which are dozens of sunflowers, ranging from bright yellow to almost a sunset orange, obscuring his face.

He’s so busy retying the little knot on the inside of the wine bag without dropping the gorgeous blooms, he hasn’t realized I’m standing here.

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