Blossoming Flower (Wildflowers Book 1) Read online

  Flor smiles at him, a combination of ease and excitement taking over her. All this? Hers for the summer? Makes her time with Poppy more than worth it.

  “Now, let me see, I keep thinking I’m forgetting something.” Gary pats down the front of his shirt and his pant pockets.

  “These?” A woman walks in holding up a set of keys.

  Flor spins around to catch Gary scooping the woman up in his arms and swinging her around, her long dark hair flowing behind her. “Now see, that’s why I stay married to you. I’d lose my head if it weren’t for you.” He lovingly kisses the top of her head and puts an arm around her shoulders.

  Flor is almost uncomfortable watching such affection. Her parents were hardly that physical. While her father was always hugging and kissing Flor and her brother, he was more distant with her mother. She couldn’t blame him, her mother came off too cold, too distant. So unlike the woman standing before her.

  The woman is several inches shorter than Gary and appears at least ten years younger, maybe more. The fine lines around her eyes make Flor guess she’s in her early forties and to think how beautiful to be that age and not care about lines or wrinkles. As long as Flor can remember, her mother has been bent on reversing everything about the effects of aging, spending so much time and money on it. If only she understood that getting older can’t be helped and the wisdom and experience that comes from living a full life is a precious gift that age bestows. The young woman smiles, appreciating those words that Poppy shared with her over their last dinner in New York. What a complex woman.

  “Flor, this lovely lady is my wife and boss, Marjorie. She sees to it that this place is a smooth-running machine.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Flor reaches out her hand to shake Marjorie’s. Instead she’s pulled into the woman’s strong arms. “Welcome, dear. It’s so nice to have another lady here on the property. Even if it’s just for the summer.” She releases Flor from her embrace and steps back. “I trust Gary gave you a tour?”

  Flor nods, a sense of comfort filling her. For the first time, she’s around people who expect nothing from her except to fulfill her responsibilities. She’s being treated as an adult.

  “Come, Gary. Let’s leave this young lady to unpack and get settled.” Marjorie turns to Flor and says. “When you’re ready, come by our place and we’ll give you a tour of the grounds.”

  “But how do I . . . .” Flor starts, but Marjorie and Gary are already out of earshot.

  When they leave, it also sinks in that, for the first time in her life, Flor is finally alone—no roommate, no family, no friends, or friends of friends. This room, in this beautiful house on this secluded property, is hers to call home for three months.

  Flor throws herself onto her bed, the joy she’s feeling bubbling up to the surface until she can’t help but laugh out loud. Who knew she could find so much pleasure and relief in being alone?

  A sound startles Flor. She sits up to listen. Realizing it must be the doorbell, she retraces the path that Gary took and notices a bedroom on either side of the long corridor. She passes through a sitting area and then the library. Finally, Flor finds herself back in the courtyard, having just walked through what she assumes is only half of the house.

  “Who is it?” She asks when she approaches the gate.

  “Delivery,” a voice replies.

  “I didn’t order anything.” Even though she’s certain the place is secure, being from Brazil, she can’t help but be suspicious of random people at her door.

  “Just open the door. I’m not going to hurt you,” the tone and volume betrays the man’s sudden impatience.

  Flor unlatches the gate and pauses as soon as she sees the man on the other side. Her eyes scan his tall frame. A straw cowboy hat casts a shadow over his face, but she can make out his deep dark brown eyes and chiseled jaw line that makes him appear as if he stepped out of an artist’s sketch. Every feature is set and perfect, right down to his full lips. Her eyes return to the rest of his body. His boots give him an several inches on her; otherwise, he’s only a couple of inches taller than Flor.

  He clears his throat. “The box.” He picks it up off the ground.

  “Oh right,” Flor stammers, realizing that she had been staring. I’ve got to work on my first impressions, she thinks to herself, realizing how unpolished she’s become after three years of living on an all-womens’ campus. She pushes the gate further to let him in. When he walks past her, she turns to check out his ass. A girl can at least dream.

  “Where do you want it?” He turns his head to face her.

  “Oh, you can put it anywhere,” she replies offhandedly, her face flushing as she thinks how that could be interpreted.

  Get it together, Flor, she tells herself.

  “It’s pretty heavy,” he says.

  “Then you must be strong,” she mumbles, her mind quickly contemplating how his body must look beneath his long-sleeved checked shirt.

  “Excuse me?” He asks.

  Flor covers her mouth, embarrassed by her lack of inhibitions, which have never escaped her like that before. She tucks her hair behind her ear and motions toward the door. “You’re welcome to leave it in the foyer.”

  He does as he’s told and turns to leave. Before he reaches the gate, Flor calls out, “Thank you,” and pauses, hoping he’ll give her a name. But he doesn’t. Instead, he nods, touching the tip of his hat and walks out.

  Chapter 10

  Flor sits on the floor, surrounded by the contents of the box as she reads a letter from Poppy. In all her years away at school, not once did she ever receive a care package from her mother, but less than a day in California and she has one from a woman she’s only just recently met.

  Dear Flor,

  I took the liberty of ordering new riding gear for you and a few hats. The summer sun can be brutal so remember to wear sunscreen too. Premature aging is a real thing. I know you’ve asked me to not buy you anything else, so I promise this is it. Also, I noticed you carry a copy of Daisy Miller, so I’m including a few classics for you to enjoy in your down time.

  I’ve only had the pleasure of visiting that property a handful of times, but I’ve found it to be one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever experienced. Hopefully you’ll come to find it as special as I do.

  If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call me.

  Yours,

  Poppy Baron

  P.S. Your father asked me to include your favorite—grapefruit gummies. Please try to call him.

  Flor tears open a bag and pops a piece in her mouth, sucking off the sugar coating before chewing on the tart candy. She devours several pieces as she flips through the books and tries on her new boots, realizing she had been so busy unpacking and exploring the house that she had forgotten to eat lunch. Nothing gets past Poppy Baron, she thinks to herself as she crosses the courtyard to break them in.

  The sun disappears behind the oak tree, reminding Flor that she’s still due for a tour of the property. As much as she could live behind these walls and hide in this small perfect world, she came to work. She slips on her old paddock boots, puts on one of her new hats, and sets out to find Marjorie and Gary.

  Flor discovers a footpath at the far end of the circular driveway that leads her past the large tree Gary had pointed to earlier. A large growth of trees covers part of the walkway, protecting her from the intense sun. The trail snakes through an herb and flower garden and continues for about another hundred yards before stopping right in front of a house.

  Even though it’s smaller than the main house, Flor notices a lot of windows, beamed ceilings, and tile floors that make it similar in design. She takes a deep breath and knocks, readying herself for this new adventure.

  Chapter 11

  “You ever do any ranch work?” Gary asks as he maneuvers the Polaris UTV down a steep hill. He insisted on taking her out to the north end of the property line first. That way she could fully appreciate the diverse landscape.

&n
bsp; What Flor has seen so far has been nothing short of stunning, from the rolling hills and creeks, to the wide variety of trees and wildlife throughout. Free-roaming bands of horses and cattle herds dot the landscape. It rivals a lot of the countryside she’s seen in Europe and her native Brazil, but on a much smaller scale.

  “Some,” she replies, hoping he doesn’t ask for details. She wasn’t permitted to work at her family’s fazenda. Her father found it charming when she tried to help in the stable. That was where it ended though. In Brazil, where class lines are strictly adhered to, she wasn’t supposed to interact with or do the work of her family’s staff. Naturally, her mother wouldn’t hear of Flor doing labor of any kind.

  “That’s good, because we were told you could hold your own. As quiet as it is out here, this is a working horse ranch. Right now, we have over two hundred horses on the property, and the stable is full.”

  “What’s that over there?” Flor points to a large metal fence. It’s hard to see how far it extends since it’s covered with overgrown trees and brush.

  “What?” Gary turns to see where’s she pointing. “Oh . . . ,” Gary hesitates. “That’s, um, that’s just some old part of the property that had been washed out after some flooding. Just seemed best to close it off for now,” he responds, shutting down that subject.

  “How large is your stable?” Flor asks, wiping the sweat from her brow as they pass a small lake to the west. What I wouldn’t give to throw myself in there right now.

  “We got two stables, fifty stalls total, ten of which are part of the maternity barn. Usually we try not to house more than forty at a time, but we had some mares who gave birth not long ago. On top of that, we just took in a few rescues, and it’s breeding season.”

  “Are the stables nearby?”

  Gary nods. “Taking you there now.” He turns the UTV west so they’re facing the sun. “I hear you’re interested in horses.”

  Flor lowers the visor. “I’ve been riding since I was three,” she tells him. “I’m hoping to study equine medicine in veterinary school. If I get in that is.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I know it’s competitive and all, but a good horse doctor needs to live and breathe this work. Belo Horizonte is the place to do it.”

  He pulls alongside the stables which are set back behind a large indoor paddock and hay barn. “The equipment barn is over there.” Gary points to the building next to the stable. “And just beyond that is the boardinghouse and kitchen.” He gets out and gestures for Flor to follow him. “This is my baby. Took years to develop and get it just right. I dreamed of having a place like this. Thankfully the owner was generous enough to oblige.”

  Flor follows him along the stable porch and into the large barn, although it can hardly be described as that. More like a premiere horse mansion, Flor observes. While her own family’s stables were state-of-the-art with bleached wood and iron gates, this one blows it out of the water. Clearly no expense was spared to build this one-of-a-kind dark wood stable. The individual stalls have black iron stall fronts, with turnouts at the back. The floors are a smooth wood finish to match the décor. Tasteful, classic light fixtures line the ceiling which Flor guesses must be at least forty feet high.

  “Each stall has a camera, and the entire space is temperature controlled which is important, especially in winter and especially for our foals.” He leads her into the second stable and continues to point. “The tack room is back here.” Flor peeks into what could very well be her mother’s expansive closet, not a room to hold horse equipment.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Flor is taken aback. Her family takes horse care seriously and is proud of their facilities. But these stables make the de Lima family’s pale in comparison.

  Gary grins proudly. “After years of working with horses, I figured I learned a thing or two about their needs.”

  “Where is everyone right now?” Flor asks curiously. She only saw a handful of men scrubbing down the floors and washing a few horses.

  “Most are turning out the horses right about now. I expect anyone who works here to be a good rider as well so they can handle any task.”

  They exit the tack room through a side door and head toward an outdoor paddock. “What do you do?” Flor asks curiously.

  “I help Marjorie run the ranch. She sees to the business side, and I see to the horse side.” Gary stops and hangs his arms over a dark wood fence. He turns his attention away from Flor to the horse on the far end of the field. About twenty feet in front of the horse is the guy who dropped off her box earlier. She bites her lip to keep from asking Gary about him.

  With several feet of rope and simple strides, the horse is taking inside turns as the man occasionally touches her with the rope. It’s clear to Flor that the horse isn’t doing anything the man doesn’t anticipate. As soon as the horse stops, he slowly approaches him, even as the horse continues to back up toward the fence. Flor can see that as frightened as the stallion is, he wants to be touched, but it’s in the horse’s nature to struggle for freedom. One slight move from the horse, and the man backs away to allow the stallion to make outside turns. He’s completely focused and patient with the horse, allowing the stallion to maintain the illusion that he has control while the trainer exerts his own.

  “Looks like I’m going to win the bet.” A voice calls out.

  Flor and Gary turn their heads in the direction of the voice. Approaching them from the second stable is probably the most beautiful man the young Brazilian has ever laid her eyes upon. Tall and slender, he approaches the pair with a walk that exudes his calm, self-assured manner. He runs a hand through his sandy blond hair and smiles when he notices Flor staring at him. As he draws closer, she notices his blue/gray eyes seem even bluer because of the dark blue button down shirt he’s wearing.

  “I wouldn’t speak too soon,” Gary says. Flor can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn’t want the man to win.

  The blue/gray eyes hold Flor’s gaze while he speaks. “He has one more day. By the way it’s going right now, I doubt it’ll happen.”

  “A lot can happen in a day,” the old man replies confidently, turning back to watch the trainer.

  “Perhaps.” He tilts his head and offers another smile to Flor who quickly looks away when she realizes she’d been staring at him the entire time.

  It’s not as if you’ve been locked away in a convent for three years. Pull yourself together, she orders herself.

  “I’m Flor.” She extends her hand to introduce herself, hoping to erase the image he must have of her gawking at him a minute ago.

  “Paco,” he replies, still smiling. “Pleasure to meet you, Flor.” The “r” rolls off his tongue beautifully, his accent faint but distinguishable.

  Gah, she thinks to herself. That smile will undo me.

  “Pretty name. You’re from Latin America?” The way he asks shows he already knows the answer.

  She nods, trying to come up with a story. “I was born . . . I mean, my parents were, but I haven’t . . . we moved around a lot.” Flor bites her lip. I’m going to have to come up with a better story than that.

  Paco’s eyes flick down to her lips. She can feel the desire coming off of him. It’s potent, and she finds herself responding to every little movement, her heart beating rapidly.

  “¿Hablas español?” He asks, his smile growing wider.

  “Sí bastante,” Flor replies, hoping he doesn’t probe further. Thankfully, Gary interrupts them. He places a protective hand on her shoulder. “Francisco comes from a long line of breeders in Argentina. His father worked with us for years before he retired. He was one of the best breeders and men I’d ever had the pleasure of working with.”

  Paco bows his head. “This is my third season at Belo Horizonte.” He pronounces the name correctly. “I’d say we’ve had some great success, don’t you agree?”

  Gary glances over at the paddock without responding, not bothering to hide his opinion of Paco. “Would you loo
k at that?” He asks, directing their attention to the stallion tipping his head toward the ground as the trainer continues to fling the rope over him. “I’d say the bet is far from over,” Gary says proudly.

  Paco smiles at Gary, not minding the jab. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He learned from the best.”

  “You flatter me.” Gary pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and tips up the front of his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

  “You trained him?” Flor asks, impressed. She’s seen plenty of trainers at her family’s farm. The man talking gently and rubbing the horse’s neck is one of the most talented she’s seen.

  “Of course. That’s my son, Collin.”

  Chapter 12

  Flor pushes the food around her plate, too nervous, or too excited, to eat. She can’t decide which. Majorie and Gary were kind enough to invite her over for dinner, and seeing that she doesn’t yet have any food in the house, she couldn’t decline.

  “I’m sorry, hon, don’t you eat fish?” Marjorie’s look of concern makes the young woman blush.

  She smiles. “Of course, I just don’t feel very hungry.”

  Majorie smiles back, unconvinced. “Gary’s on a special diet for his heart, so we’ve adopted a low-sodium, fish and plant-based diet.” She pats his back. “It’s tough on him, but he’s gotten used to it.”

  Gary places a forkful of kale salad in his mouth and chews, smiling for her benefit.

  Flor giggles. Majorie punches him playfully on his arm.

  “He’ll appreciate it when he lives another thirty years,” the woman makes a low sound with her tongue.

  Flor takes a healthy bite of the fish and quinoa.

  “You seem preoccupied, Flor,” Majorie observes. “It’s a lot of change for you to take in. If you’d like another day or two to acclimate, you’re welcome to take it.”