Just Can't Forget You: Oakland Hills Short Story 2 (Oakland Hills #3.5)(3)

“But—surely they told you—Jake would work with you. I don’t do—”

“I assured them you knew exactly what I wanted,” he said.

The naked root ball in her hand was crumbling to pieces. Turning away from him, she tucked it into a pile of loose potting soil, manhandling the little plant to keep her hands busy. “I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding. I don’t have any design experience. The one you want—”

“You’re the one I want.” He walked around the table and touched the spiny green leaves of the seedling. “Your boss agreed.”

“Ian? Are you sure?”

He nodded.

She frowned at the nursery building. Ian had made it clear when he hired her that she wasn’t qualified yet to do garden design. Jake had a MA in landscape architecture, and Mary had worked over thirty years as professional garden designer.

“Don’t worry about your lack of experience,” Eduardo said. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job. And even if you didn’t, I’d never tell.”

“That’s nice of you, but I wouldn’t want you to lie about that.”

“Still so honest, aren’t you, Melissa?” he asked.

The nagging sense of familiarity came to a head. How could they possibly know each other? There was no way she’d forget a secret agent underwear model named Eduardo. And yet… “Have we met?”

He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I didn’t have a beard then,” he said. “A lot changes in ten years.”

Ten years.

Her mind flew back to an exclusive, secluded estate in Napa Valley. The diverse team of professionals at a private facility that assisted in the mental health of privileged but troubled adolescents.

“You knew me as Eddie,” he added.

She snapped the seedling’s fragile stem between her fingers.





3


EDDIE.

HER BREATH CAUGHT IN her throat.

Eddie.

His little brother had been killed in a hit-and-run as he was crossing the street. Grief like that would flatten the strongest of emotional giants. He’d spent the summer at the Center, as she had, learning how to pull it together. But unlike her, he’d had an excuse. She knew now that depression could be genetic, a biological fluke, and she shouldn’t beat herself up, but back then she’d been too hard on herself for falling into a depression for no comprehensible reason. When he’d started following her around, joining her on walks, swimming laps with her in the pool, she’d tried to push him away. But he’d been too sensitive, too smart, too understanding—and she’d embraced their friendship.

Until the counselors, fearing her emotional instability, subtly separated them. Her therapist convinced her to let go of Eddie, focus on herself, and look to the future. And then Eddie went home, and she stayed another month, and then two, until finally she was ready to face the world again.

She didn’t want any reminders of that time in her life. The unbalanced girl who’d almost killed herself was a stranger, living on a different planet, and she didn’t want to return.

“Eddie,” she said, dropping the plant’s mangled corpse onto the ground at her feet. “Sure, I remember. Nice to see you.”

“I’ve changed a little bit,” he said, rubbing his beard, smiling.

Lord help her, he sure had. Taller, broader, hairier—but the eyes were the same. He’d always had such gentle, intelligent eyes.

“Me too.” She flushed. She’d gained at least forty pounds. Whether it was the meds or her fondness for apricot scones, her body was no longer petite. Of course, she was still short, since nobody had invented an SSRI that made you get taller along with the extra girth. “I’m surprised you recognized me.”


“You look great.” He held her gaze. “Really.”

She was afraid of telling him the same. Her tone would be way too convincing.

Eddie. Eduardo. Wow. He’d been cute back then, but this was grown-up cute.

“The guy inside said you could come by my house tomorrow around four,” he said. “Does that sound good to you?”

Tomorrow? Going from ten years directly to tomorrow seemed out of proportion. But if Ian wanted her to work with him, what else could she say? “All right. I’ll come by at four.”

“I can’t wait.” He flashed her a broad smile that sent shivers down her back.



Eduardo glanced at the clock on the wall of his house’s foyer. Just past four.

Melissa should arrive any second. He hoped she wore those jeans again, the ones with the ballpoint pen doodles on the thighs that showed off her curves.

Melissa.

She was even more beautiful now, over a decade since he’d first seen her sketching an ancient live oak tree in the outskirts of the Center estate.

Melissa.

Her voice had been familiar, but it wasn’t until she’d spoken her name that he’d realized it had to be her. She’d always loved plants. He’d hurried over from work and talked to the nursery’s owner, convincing the man that he’d already established a rapport with Melissa and insisted she be the one helping him. Mentioning the address of his property, and its size, had sealed the deal.

Eduardo opened the door to watch for her, his pulse accelerating as he saw she’d already arrived and was getting out of her car. It was a red hatchback with Nevada plates, and he wondered if she had just moved to the area. If she was staying.