Chapter 31

Opal had everything set for her date with Tag by noon, and she'd sorted her seeds for this afternoon's planting last night. So she took her tote out to the garden, her feet clad in a simple pair of running shoes instead of the garden boots Tag had said she needed.

The garden had dried, at least, and she'd been able to get in a few rows of corn and carrots and peas before she'd left for Raleigh. She'd taken in the neatly weeded rows last night after she'd returned to the farm close to dusk, and she'd known exactly who'd been there taking care of her garden in her absence.

Taggart.

Opal sighed as she got out the rake and hoe she needed to put in a row of pumpkins and then one of potato hills. She'd read all about how to space them and how much to water them while she'd rocked with Spencer and Violet out of town, and she got right to work. She pulled dirt this way and that, quickly realizing that building a hill for her pumpkins was harder than the videos she'd watched online made it look.

Still, she was determined to get this done today, so she could feel like she'd done something useful that day. Then she'd shower and prep herself for her date with Tag, who would be early over late.

Opal went over the things she wanted to tell him as she worked the earth, and she was so glad for good women in her life to help her. Both Molly and Jane had calmed her so much yesterday, and they'd given her some really great advice.

Let him talk, Jane had said. He wants a voice, Opal. Let him have it.

Make him apologize for not telling you about his birthday, Molly had said. But don't punish him for it. If he owns it as a mistake, then you just forgive him and kiss him and tell him you love him.

She'd grinned through that last sentence, and Opal had tried to stay straight-faced for as long as possible. When she'd broken, it had been into tears, not grins, and both Jane and Molly had been right there to wrap her up in hugs and tell her it was okay to admit she loved Tag.

Opal still hadn't said the words out loud yet, because she wanted to taste them as they left her mouth. She wanted to watch Tag's face when he heard them, and she wanted him to kiss her the way a man who loved a woman back would kiss her. So she couldn't admit to herself that she loved Tag quite yet.

She simply wanted to see him, and it had taken all of her willpower to stay out of his space today. Going to the city this morning had helped, and now she worked on the opposite side of the farm from him, pretty much guaranteeing she wouldn't run into him until she was ready.

Sweat ran down the side of her face while she bent over to lovingly press the pumpkin seeds into the mound she'd managed to make. Three went around in a triangular formation, and Opal moved down to do another one. With four mounds done—and a dozen pumpkin plants in the ground—she went to get the hose.

The property had water on it already, but it came in the form of a spigot sticking up and out of the ground. She had to pump the handle a few times to get any water to come out, and then it gushed and gushed.

And gushed, right over her shoes, making them a muddy mess of sneakers. Opal stared at it for a moment, feeling helpless and dirty and hot and like crying. Then she simply trained the hose on her feet and let the ice-cold water flow over her shoes until they were clean.

Then, she walked in squelching socks and shoes back to the garden. She took one step out into the soil before she realized she'd basically just come in from the ocean. And now that she was wet, the sand would stick to literally everything that had even a single water molecule on it.

Dirt acted the same way, and Opal had already committed to taking the first step. So out she went, her feet hot now as the water warmed under the heat of the afternoon sun. With every move she made, more and more dirt stuck to her shoes, and ankles, and even up her leg.

She felt like she had mud bricks on her feet as she walked, and by the time she reached the end of the row, she simply kicked off her shoes and left them there. She stared at them, getting more and more upset with every passing second.

Squeezing the hose hard, she tipped her head back and yelled out her irritation with her lack of gardening skills. "Why can't anything just be easy?" she griped. Of course, she knew plenty of things in her life were easy, but right now, it felt like everything had been tied up into a giant ball of rubber bands, and she'd never find the way out.

The sound of chuckling met her ears, further igniting her ire. She turned, expecting to find Mikey standing there with baby West on his hip or his hand in his son's.

Instead, she found Tag.

Her pulse leaped and raced and froze all in the same breath, leaving her gasping and unable to make a move in any direction.

"Hey, there," he drawled, stepping out into her garden. He avoided the muddy and wet spots where she'd watered her precious pumpkins as he came closer. "I was hoping to catch you a little earlier."

Opal stood there, the hose at her side, filling the garden with more water, and thus, more mud. She even felt herself sinking into it a little bit.

"I brought you something," Tag said as he lifted a bright blue pair of garden boots. "But you beat me to the planting." He glanced at the pumpkin mound as he went by it. "Seems like you've lost your shoes."

Opal's eyes filled with tears, and she still didn't know what to say.

His eyes came back to hers. "Opal, honey, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about the twins coming for my birthday—or even when my birthday was."

She sniffled, determined not to cry again tonight. She was far too old for such things, and she certainly didn't want Tag to see her erratic emotions.

He set down the boots about a pace from her and held up the other item in his hands. "I got you this too. So you can bring it out here, tend to your garden, and then take a rest in the shade."

The picture on the front showed a bright green inflatable chair, and Opal lost the battle against her tears. They flowed down her face, and she figured they could join the muddy mess that was her feet, her garden, and her life.

"Oh, my sweet honeybear," Tag whispered. He took a couple of side steps, took the hose and tossed it away to the already-planted rows, and set down the inflatable chair. "I'm in love with you, Opal Hammond, and it's just a little mud."

"The boots," she said through her tears as he gathered her close to his heart.

"And a little plastic," he said. "Plastic boots, plastic chair. It all cleans up nicely."

She put her arms around him and held on, everything catching up to her at once. "You weeded my garden."

"Someone had to," he whispered. "And you were off loving that baby." He ran his hands up and down her back, soothing her. "Sawyer and Flint helped. They can't wait to meet you."

"I can't wait to meet them either," she said, sniffling as she once again fought for control. "I'm sorry I got upset, Tag. It's just, I would've liked to have been here to celebrate your birthday with you."

"It's just an arbitrary day, honey. We can celebrate it anytime."

She pushed gently against his chest. "It would've meant something to me," she said. "And you?—"

"I know," he said roughly. "I'm sorry. I said I was sorry. I should've told you. I just didn't want to disrupt your plans to go to Raleigh. I know how important that was to you."

Opal studied his face, and she didn't see anything to mistrust. "Tell me about the serious thing you wanted to talk about a month or two ago."

His jaw jumped, and he fell back another step. "I've worked through some of it already."

"Did you write about it in your notebook?" She didn't see it anywhere on him, but he had to have it. He always had it.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Will you show me?" She tried to ask gently, but she wasn't sure it came across that way to Tag.

His eyes stormed with danger, and then he blinked, and it all went out. "I can show you," he said. "But you'd be the first to ever see what I write in that notebook."

Opal knew what that meant, and her memories flowed through her now in a fast, furious way. "You said you loved me."

Tag allowed a slow, Southern smile to come to his face. "You're just getting to that, huh?"

Opal wanted to hear him say it again. "Taggart."

"Oh, honeybee, you can't say my name like that." He reached out and grabbed onto her front belt loops and pulled her closer. "It makes me fall even more in love with you when you do." His lips skated across her jaw and down the column of her neck.

"I'm sincerely sorry, honey. Please forgive me."

"You're forgiven," she murmured. "Now, could we get out of the mud to continue this conversation?"

He stepped back, cupped her hand in his, and led her past her gardening, picking up the gifts he'd brought for her as he went. "I'm assuming you'll want to shower," he said. "Get ready for tonight."

"Yes," she said.

He reached the edge of the garden and stepped out of it. "I'll get your chair set up for you, and I'll be back at the farmhouse to get you at six-thirty."

She turned back toward the pumpkin mounds. "Oh, my shoes…."

"Honey, they're a lost cause." He grinned at her and handed her the boots. "Put those on for now. We can rinse them out at the farmhouse."

Opal pulled on the bright blue boots, unsurprised that they fit perfectly. Of course. Tag knew her well enough to know her shoe size, and he'd bought the cutest boots in the best color. "These have flowers on them," she said.

"You like flowers," he said.

"I like you," she said.

"Mm, you only like me?"

Opal hadn't envisioned this scenario, with the two of them standing near a construction site while she proclaimed her love for the cowboy. But life was all about making adjustments, living in an imperfect world, and doing the best she could.

"Okay," she said, leaning into his chest. "I more than like you, Taggart. I'm in love with you too."

He made the tiniest noise of surprise, and then he growled as he leaned down and claimed her lips in a fierce, urgent, and delicious kiss.