Flower Fields, Midnight Kisses, and The Enemy Next Door (PREORDER)

Life isn't easy. 

I've had to fight for everything I've ever owned and it all went out the window with one bad decision. 

So when I got a letter in the mail telling me my estranged grandmother died and left me eighty acres and flower farm in the middle of nowhere West Virginia, I hopped in my car--which was on its last legs--and drove the thousand miles from Miami.

But when I arrived, I discovered my grandma may have been losing it there in the end because she also left the farm to the horrid--but handsome--man next door. He's determined to make me leave and I'm determined to stay, but when he puts bleach in my shampoo, the war is on. 

Synopsis

1st chapter

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Chapter 1

Noah

The coffee maker is
probably forty years old. I’m surprised Beverly still managed to find filters
for it. I turn it on and listen to the familiar drip, drip, drip. A few years
ago, I bought her a Keurig, but I’m pretty sure it’s tucked away in a closet
somewhere still in the box. I might have to go digging to see if I can find it.
The house is now mine, so I’m allowed to go digging in closets. Not that I want
to.

I brush my
fingers along the old counter top. Not a spec of dust. Considering she’s been
gone for almost two weeks, that is pretty impressive. I’ve been over here
working on the flowers of course, but today is the first time I’ve been in the
house. The first couple of weeks were too raw. With the unseasonably warm
weather predicted for the next few days, it seemed like a good time to move in.

Greenbank, West
Virginia is technically in the mountains, but our weather is very
unpredictable. It’s the end of January so that usually means snow, but today it
means seventy degrees. I worry about what that means for the flower farm.
Things outside of the greenhouses will start growing too fast and we’re bound
to have more freezes.

My family runs a
business that mostly camping and retreats. The camping season doesn’t really
start until May. We did a couple of winter retreats this year but don’t have
another one scheduled until the first of March. My brothers will have plenty of
time to help me move my stuff. But they’ll grumble about it.

I glance around
the room. Too many memories. How many mornings did we sit together drinking
coffee? Beverly was not a morning talker, she preferred her coffee silent. I’m
surprised she even let me come and sit with her. I could’ve just showed up an
hour later and met her outside to work the fields and put together the bouquets.

For the past four
years, it’d been our routine a few days a week. The other days I had to do my
day job—corporate accountant, but hopefully now with the flowers all mine, I
won’t have to. And I have her to thank for that. The money won’t be nearly the
same, but between that and what I’m making from Whisper Springs—managing the
books for my family’s resort—it will be enough. And it will save my sanity.

Out of habit I take
two coffee mugs out of the cupboard. One deeply stained, the other fairly
clean. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get rid of her mug. In fact, I’m
not sure I want to make many changes at all. I’ll have to make updates to the
farm, of course, but I want to keep things as similar as possible for Beverly’s
memory. There’s no reason to change anything.

“What the hell
are you doing in my kitchen?”

I jump and the
mug slips out of my hand, shattering on the ground. I stare at it for a moment
before I spin around and find myself face to face with a young woman. She wears
a blue tank top and short athletic shorts. Her legs are long and tan. In her
hands she holds a baseball bat—the one I gave Beverly to keep next to her
bed—and her dark brown eyes glare at me.

Cupcake bounds
over to her and licks her bare toes. If she moves, she’ll step on the ceramic
shards and cut up her feet.

The girl ignores
my dog which is now an overgrown fluffy black and tan puppy. I don’t call
Cupcake back because I don’t want him to cut up his feet either.

I’m not sure
quite how to respond. The girl is clearly confused. This is my house now. She
also doesn’t seem overly confident with the baseball bat. I doubt she’d even
try to hit me, but I probably shouldn’t make any sudden moves just in case. I
should be angry about the mug but instead the deep sense of loss that’s been
all I’ve known for the past few weeks settles in my stomach. I carefully brush
the shards of glass away from her and my dog using my boot.

I hold up my own coffee
mug. “Making coffee, want some?”

She narrows her
eyes and cupcake noses her legs. “Get out of my kitchen.”

I slowly pour a
cup and then take a sip before responding. “Who are you?”

“None of your
business. Get out.” She shakes the bat in my direction a little. Cupcake looks
between us and wags her tail.

“If you were
gonna hit me with that, you would’ve done it already. My name is Noah. That’s
cupcake. We live next door for now. You really don’t want to come any closer or
you’ll cut your feet on the broken mug. What’s your name?”

I’ve never seen
her before in my life, which means she’s not local. I have no idea what she’s
doing here in Beverly’s kitchen. This is not a place you stumble upon or
mistake for somewhere else. She must be family of some sort. Though Beverly
rarely talked about her family. Beverly was the grandmother I never had. She
treated me like her own and for that, I’ll always think of her as mine and no
one elses.

The place I live
at isn’t quite walking distance unless you have a good hour, but the four
wheeler gets me here in less than ten minutes. The path has ruts in because of
how often I’m here. That’ll heal once I move down here. Though maybe not. My
mom and siblings might decide to bug me more often than I want. I have six
brothers and one sister—all who live on our family’s resort. Well, except two,
but Ethan is here more often than he’s at home in Staunton and Abi is only gone
temporarily.

The girl lowers
the bat and her expression changes. “Are you the one that’s supposed to help me
with the farm?” She drops her other hand on Cupcake’s head and scratches him
behind his ears. Cupcake leans into her. Traitor.

“Excuse me?”

“Gran called me
the day before she died,” the girl sniffs and rubs at her eyes. “She told me
she was leaving me the farm and that a guy from the place next door would help
me figure it all out.”

I crease my
eyebrows. “I think you are mistaken. She left the farm to me.”

The girl laughs.
“No. I have a notarized will that says otherwise.”

“I have a copy of
her will as well and it says I’m the owner.”

“I’m her
granddaughter. I think I know better.”

I take a deep
breath. Maybe I’m just a little confused. Maybe Beverly left the house to the
girl but the farm to me. She gave me her updated will a few weeks ago since she
knew it wouldn’t be long before she passed. I offered her cash again, but she
muttered something along the lines of, ‘what am I going to do with money at
this point?’

“I think there’s
been some kind of mistake. Beverly and I have worked together for a long time.
I’ve offered to buy the farm for years and she’d always pat me on the cheek and
say, ‘why would I do that when I’m just going to give it to you when I die.’”

The young woman
chews on her bottom lip. She’s very pretty even without makeup. I spot a spider
hanging from a thread near her shoulder. Instinctively I move quickly into her
space and swat it away. She swings the bat wildly and gets me right in the
side. It wasn’t hard but still takes my breath away. Cupcake barks and jumps on
me. It’s all I can do to stay upright.

“What the hell?”
she says holding the bat up again. If she swings this time, it’ll be with
force. I hold up my finger and stand up. That’s gonna bruise.

“There was a
spider on your shoulder. Sorry.”

She lowers the
bat again. “Thank you. Are you okay?”

“Yep, maybe put
the bat down.”

She rolls her
eyes.  “I’ll hang onto it, thanks.”

“Why don’t you go
get your will and let me take a look at it?”

She disappears down
the hall and I grab a broom and clean up the shards from Beverly’s broken mug.
I don’t like drama or trouble. I hope this will clear up quickly. I can’t
afford to let the flower farm wallow. It has to be taken care of or I need to
start over. Beverly and I worked too hard to just let it go.

She comes back
and hands me the will. Then she pours herself a cup of coffee and crouches down
next to Cupcake.

I skip to line
item five. It is my deepest desire to leave my home and two hundred acres to
my granddaughter Jasmine Bloom. She also retains all rights to the flowers,
tools, and business.

I stop reading.
My will says the exact same thing. Except where she wrote Jasmine Bloom, she
wrote my dear friend Noah Blackwood.

I have no idea
what to do with this information. “I see. Let me go grab mine and we’ll
compare, hmm.” I check the date on the notary stamp, but I’m not sure what mine
says. “I’ll be back in about thirty minutes. Coffee is hot if you want some.”

She nods but
doesn’t say anything. I rush back to my place. I’m currently living with my
brother Mark. My oldest brother, Seth, bought the property next to ours that
used to be an old company town completely with about fifty houses and various
other buildings. He used it to expand my parent’s resort and gave us each a
house. I declined my own house since I knew as soon as Beverly died, I’d get
this place. Mark doesn’t really like being alone so he offered me a room in his
place.  

I dig out the will.
It wasn’t hard to find since I was just looking at it yesterday. A sharp pain
goes through my heart. I miss Beverly.

I check the date.
It’s exactly the same as Jasmine’s. There has to be some mistake. I sink down
on my bed and think. I’ll call my attorney this afternoon, but I’ve got to get
some flower stuff done this morning. I don’t have time for this kind of thing.

I quickly open up
my Instagram and look her up. I need to know what kind of woman I’m dealing
with. She’s got quite a few followers, which makes sense because she’s young
and pretty. Most of her pictures are of her dressed in mini skirts and heels,
heading out on the town, which is different than I saw her in the kitchen. She
always has a few other girls with her. Then I check the date. The last post was
more than three years ago.

There’s a story
there. I’m certain of it, which means I have no idea what kind of woman I’m
sharing Beverly’s farm with.

“Wow, she’s hot.”
I startle and look over my shoulder.

Mark stands there
with Ethan. Since Ethan lives in Staunton most of the time, he has a room here
as well.

“Get out of my
room.”

I know. It sounds
like I’m fifteen again.

Mark smirks. “How
do you know her?”

“None of your
business.” It’s none of my business either and I shouldn’t care. She’s a threat
to my business. I grab a suitcase out of the closet, throw a few shirts and
pants in it. Then I shove the phone back in my pocket, grab my will and head
back to the farm, shoving past my brothers. We get along okay, but they’re
always in my space and I don’t want to explain things to them.

I practically
trip over Cupcake, Eclair and Apple Pie who are all fighting over the same toy.
I do a dance around the dogs, but Apple pie gives up and collapses in the
middle of the floor. It takes cupcake by surprise and Éclair manages to get it
away from cupcake and races down the stairs with the mangled stuffed duck.
Cupcake looks up at me with sad eyes.

“Don’t worry boy.
We’re getting our own place where you don’t have to share, let’s go.”

One thing’s for
sure. I’m moving into that house today.

Jasmine’s not
getting away with this.