Red Lily

more, he retented the plants. He’d need to check the pond later to study the water lilies and irises he’d hybridized. A side and personal experiment he hoped would prove rewarding.
    Plus, it would give him an excuse to take a cooling dip in the heat of the day.
    But for now, he had several cultivars to see to.
    He gathered the tools he’d need, then selected a healthy rootstock from his pot-grown lantana, made the oblique cut, then matched it with a scion of viburnum. The girths were similar enough that he was able to use the simple slant of each cut to place them together so the cambiums on each side met truly.
    Using elastic bands, he kept the pressure light and even as he bound them together. Judging the graft good, he used grafting wax to seal the joining. He set it in a seed tray, covered the roots and graft with moist soil—his mother’s mix—then labeled.
    Once he’d repeated the process several times, he tented the tray, and swiveled to his computer to log in the work.
    Before he started on the next house specimens, he switched his music to Michelle Branch and pulled a Coke from his cooler.

    By the time he’d finished, Michelle had played through and his morning’s work was completed.
    He gathered a bag of tools and supplies, left his headset behind, and went out to check his field-grown and water plants.
    There were a few customers wandering around, scouting out the discounted stock under shade screens or poking into the public greenhouses. He knew if he didn’t make his escape quickly, one of them might catch him.
    He didn’t mind talking plants or directing a customer toward what they were looking for. He just preferred keeping his mind in the game, and right now that game was checking his field plants.
    He made it past the portulaca before someone called his name. Should’ve kept the headset on, he thought, but turned, readying up his customer smile.
    The brunette had a curvy little body, which he’d had occasion to see naked several times. At the moment, she was showing it off in belly-baring shorts and a brief top designed to make a man give thanks for August heat.
    With a delighted laugh, she bounced up on her toes, clamped her arms around his neck and gave him a loud smack of a kiss. She still tasted of bing cherries, and brought back a flood of equally sweet memories.
    Instinctively he gave her a hard hug before stepping back to get a better view. “Dory, what’re you doing in town? How’ve you been?”
    “I’ve been terrific, and I just moved back. Just a couple weeks ago. Got a job with a PR firm here. I got tired of Miami, missed being home, too, I guess.”
    She’d probably changed her hair from the last time he’d seen her. Women were forever changing their hair. But since he wasn’t absolutely sure, he fell back on the standard: “You look great.”

    “Feel the same. And look at you, all buff and tan. I was going to call you but I wasn’t sure you were still living in that sweet little house.”
    “Yeah, still there.”
    “I was hoping. I always loved that place. How’s your mama, and David, and your brothers, and oh, just everybody.” She gave a bubbling laugh, threw out her arms. “I feel like I’ve been living on Mars for the past three years.”
    “Everybody’s good. Mama got married a few weeks ago.”
    “I heard. My mama caught me up with some of the local news. I heard you haven’t.”
    “Haven’t what? Oh, no.”
    “I was thinking you and I could do some catching up.” Dory trailed a finger down his chest. “I’d love to see your place again. I could pick up some Chinese, a bottle of wine. Like the old days.”
    “Ah, well . . .”
    “A kind of welcome-home and thank-you for you helping me pick out some houseplants for my new place. You’ll do that, won’t you, Harper? I’d like a few nice ones.”
    “Sure. I mean, sure I’ll help you pick out some plants. But—”
    “Why don’t we go inside, out of this heat. You can tell me what you’ve been up to while you help me out. But save some of the good stuff for later.”
    She took his hand, squeezing it as she tugged him with her. “I’ve missed seeing you,” she continued. “We barely had a chance to talk when I was up for a few days last year. I was going out with that photographer then, remember? I told you.”
    “Yeah.” Vaguely. “And I’m—”
    “Well, that is so over. I don’t know why I wasted a year of my life on a man so self-centered. It was always about him,