The main house was in the middle of the largest acreage of land Arbor Bay had to offer. It was beautiful, expansive, and private. Since Sloane had never been besties with Carol in school, she’d never seen inside the mini-mansion and assumed she never would. The garden, however, was a different case altogether. Less of a place you and your grandmother tended to while wearing aprons and gloves from Lowes, it was its own spectacle directly to the left of the house, connected by a stone path straight out of Southern Living magazine.

Brady led the way to the first hand-placed stone.

“Have you been here before?” he asked. “The garden part?”

“Way back in the day.” Sloane was careful with her footing. Naturally, she was shorter than most. By choice, too. She loved to wear flats, tennis shoes, and sandals. The wedges she currently had on? Not so much. She’d found them in the back of her childhood closet, one of several heels she’d abandoned when she moved out, finally coming to terms with her lack of proficiency in anything over a half inch. “My mom was a part of Missy’s book club when I was little. She hosted some kind of mommy-daughter event for one of the books in the greenhouse in the garden.” Sloane stepped to another stone while trying to side-step the familiar ache in her chest. “I don’t remember anything about the book they talked about, but I do remember how pretty everything was. You?”

Brady shook his head. “I never had a reason to come here and definitely never got an invitation.” He gave her a quick, sly smile. It made Sloane double down on her focus of not falling flat on her face. “Same for my parents. Though, they didn’t really stick around town long enough to make an impression. When I graduated high school, they bolted to Colorado to be with my grandma. And, I also suspect, weed.”

Sloane laughed out loud. Brady reached out to help steady her when the sudden move made her wobble. Once again, the heat that was her new normal swallowed her at the contact.

“And you stuck around here?”

“And I stuck around here,” he repeated. “Helping Dixon and my uncle with the bar. Doing the devil’s work, as Santana always loves to say.” Sloane couldn’t tell if he regretted that decision based on his tone, and she didn’t have time to pry.

The stone path they were on led to a moss-covered archway. It was one of several ways to get into the maze-like space with all its fauna, flora, statues, and stone inside. There was even a fountain at the heart of the garden, right next to the greenhouse where the actual entertaining took place.

Because of course they had a fountain.

It was all impressive, intimidating, and a little unnecessary.