I couldn’t have told you why it made my heart flutter at the knowledge that he wore those goofy shirts every day for the amusement of his family, but it did.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked, nodding to the planter box at his feet.

He glanced in the same direction, hooking his hands on his hips. He looked like Paul Bunyan in a novelty T-shirt—all he needed was some buffalo check flannel and a knit cap.

“Planting seedlings. These are black magic cosmos. Planted them, oh … a month ago? Now that they’re ready to move into the ground, we should have blooms in five or six weeks, I figure.”

“For the Baker wedding?” I asked with a wondrous smile.

He nodded, smiling back.

I knelt across from him, looking down at the seedlings, the hopeful bursts of green in dark soil.

“Black magics are delicate,” he said, lowering to his haunches, big hands hanging between his knees. “Its petals are so deep a red, they’re nearly black, but even more interesting—they smell like chocolate. Sometimes vanilla, but I’ve always only smelled chocolate.”

I touched one of the sprouts tenderly. “How strange,” I said half to myself.

“Tess is itching to get her hands on the blooms. We haven’t planted them here in years, not since I was a kid. I remember coming down here and sitting between the aisles because they smelled so good. Tried to eat one once. I don’t recommend it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eat flowers?”

“The opposite—she used to walk me around and make me taste them. Although she was sorry she made me eat a pansy. They taste a little like mint, and forever on, she had to chase me out of the pansy patches. Don’t even get me started on marigolds. And when Mom would get shipments of lilac in the spring? Forget about it.”

“Lilac? You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Some just taste like nothing. Some taste … green. I don’t know how else to describe it. But some taste exactly like lilac smells, and it’s utter heaven.”

“That’s my name,” I said, suddenly sheepish at the admission.

His brows flicked together. “Lilac?”

“My grandmother’s favorite flower was lilac, and my parents were married in her garden at the end of May when they were in bloom. So, they named me Lilac, and my sister Ivy because they must have known she’d be wild and clingy.”

That earned me a laugh, and I smiled.

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. She loves to embarrass me by telling everyone I don’t want to know.”

“I take it you’re not a fan?”