Her bush objects of attr.., p.1
Her Bush (Objects of Attraction), page 1
HER BUSH
PENELOPE BLOOM
CONTENTS
1. Nell
2. Harry
3. Nell
4. Harry
5. Nell
6. Harry
7. Nell
8. Harry
9. Nell
10. Harry
11. Nell
12. Harry
13. Nell
14. Harry
15. Nell
16. Harry
17. William
18. Nell
19. Harry
20. Nell
21. Harry
22. Nell
23. Harry
24. Nell
25. Epilogue - Nell
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Reading Guide
Also By Penelope Bloom
1
NELL
Today was the first day of my new life. Sure, I’d started to lose track of how many first days of the rest of my life I’d had, but this time would be different. Beauty school hadn’t worked out, having a long-term boyfriend hadn’t worked out, and following my dream of being an artist hadn’t worked out. Today was the day I took the past and kicked it in the balls. Maybe I’d even kick the future in the balls, while I was at it. It was my first day as a professional bush sculptor, and I wasn’t going to screw it up.
There might have been a few minor details that were making me nervous about my first day. The biggest hurdle was that my only experience in my new line of work was brutalizing a bush outside my apartment with kitchen scissors.
But hey, it had been years since my high school art teacher said there must not have been an artistic gene in my family history, even if you went back to the stone age. I’d been making sculptures in my spare time since then with the hope that I’d be able to go back and slam one down on her desk triumphantly. I was still kind of working on that part. Either way, I’d practically trained to trim this bush my whole life, and I was going to nail it. Probably.
I just needed to focus. The eye of the tiger. Eye on the prize. Two birds in the bush—
I closed my eyes. Mental diarrhea wasn’t going to help. All I needed to do was decide this would be the first time I didn’t screw everything up. I wasn’t going to fail. I couldn’t fail. I might only be twenty-two, but a person could only handle so many miserable failures before it started to drive them crazy. I was pretty sure I’d already reached that point, so I really, really needed this to work. I needed it to work for my own sake and especially for my little sister’s sake. She wanted to go to music school, which my parents couldn’t and wouldn’t pay for. I’d secretly been saving money to help her pay her way through when she graduated high school next year, but I’d only put away enough to get her through her first year.
The van bumped and jostled us around like it was rolling on cinderblocks instead of wheels. After nearly half an hour, my nose still hadn't acclimated to the smell of the guys who were riding with me. If you took an old sock, dipped it in vinegar, and then scrubbed it with cheese, you might get close to the smell of my new co-workers.
“You with me over there, Nell?” Davey asked. He’d been my best friend since Kindergarten, and he’d helped me get this job. “You’ve got that stupid look on your face.”
“I don’t get stupid looks on my face.”
“It’s not that you look stupid. It’s that I know you’re thinking about something stupid. Remember when you asked me if caterpillars know they’re going to become butterflies? Or if Ryan Gosling was going to legally change his name to Ryan Goose when he got old enough?”
“Yes, and those are not stupid questions.”
Davey pursed his lips. “Objectively? Yes, they are. So, what is it this time?”
“I don’t want to tell you now. You’re going to make fun of me.”
“I probably won’t.”
I sighed. “I was just thinking about how if I breathe out hooh, it’s cold, but if I breathe out, haah, it’s hot.” I’d actually been thinking about where I’d find enough cardboard to make my house if I got fired from this job, but I didn’t feel like bumming Davey out.
Davey put his palm to his forehead for a few seconds before laughing. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Even from you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him in challenge.
“What?”
“I’m just waiting because I know you’re dying to try it out and see if I’m right.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re right. It’s…” Davey sighed, then turned his head slightly and breathed into the palm of his hand twice. Hooh. Haah.
I smirked in triumph.
“Just because you’re right, it doesn’t make it any less stupid,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure being right means it’s not stupid by default.”
The guy beside me snorted a little like he’d just woken up. “Hell yeah,” he grunted.
“See?” I said. “He agrees with me.”
Davey leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That’s Carl, and Carl is going to agree with anything you say because you have boobs.”
"Still," I shrugged. I also wondered if Carl would be as enthusiastic about my boobs if he knew how much magic my bra worked for me.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, even though it was hard to relax with the way the van was bumping me halfway out of my seat every few seconds.
I still couldn’t quite believe I was here. Just a few months ago, it had seemed like everything was on track. I had a boyfriend. I was starting beauty school. I was going to be a hairdresser, and I was going to be doing something that excited me finally. I wondered if any of the guys sharing the van with me ended up here the same way—like this was some kind of smelly purgatory for people who realized they weren’t cut out to chase their dreams.
Or maybe they were just as poor as me and weren’t about to turn their noses up at paying work.
Thankfully, I was never the type to wallow. Yes, my situation sucked. No, I wasn’t going to let it bring me down. Besides, I wasn’t just doing any kind of gardening. I was a “bush sculptor.” Last time I checked, any sort of sculpting was art. In other words, I was now a professional artist.
Davey was currently trimming his nails, even though the van was shaking enough that I thought he was just as likely to take off a finger. It was either brave or stupid. Knowing him, it was a bit of both. I’d never tell him as much, but I only introduced myself to him back in our Kindergarten days because he reminded me of a little turtle. He had an oversized, slightly pointy upper lip and a slow, wobbling way of walking. I also still secretly very much enjoyed his turtleness, but I didn’t think that was the sort of thing he’d want to hear.
He nudged me. “You’ll be fine, Nell. Relax,” He tapped my clenched hands with his knuckles like he was trying to crack an egg.
I smirked, forcing myself to relax. “Do I look nervous?”
“You look like you’re trying to shit a diamond the size of my fist.”
I scrunched up my face. “First of all, I don’t shit. I’m a lady. I relieve myself in a polite, proper manner. And even if I did… poop, it would smell like roses and be daintily sized.”
Davey grinned. “It sounds like you forgot we’re roommates because there was nothing polite and proper about—”
I kicked his foot, which, thankfully got him to stop. Some of the other guys in the van were throwing curious glances our way. "I might be nervous, but it's only because I want to do a good job."
“It’s just trimming bushes, Nell. How badly could you mess it up?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I pointed to my hair, which was currently a bold shade of orange. It was just one little reminder of my glorious exit from beauty school. Maybe I should’ve taken it as a sign that I wasn’t ready for the test when I practiced on myself and failed the night before my exam. I’d been aiming for a gentle kind of blonde—just a touch lighter than my natural brown. Whoops.
Davey looked thoughtful at that. “You do kind of have a tendency to screw up everything you touch, and I mean that in the most supportive way possible.”
I grinned. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around to remind me that I’m a professional at sucking.”
Davey snorted. “I didn’t need to know what you’ve been doing for cash on the side.”
I glared, but couldn’t help grinning, even though I was pretty sure the other guys in the van thought I was batshit crazy by now. “I’m going to ignore that. And no, I’m not going to mess this up. I need this job.” I leaned in and lowered my voice. “And I won’t forget that you put your ass on the line to help me get it.”
He nodded. “My ass is yours.”
I gave him a wry smile. “Not exactly what I meant, but… thanks?”
“Oh, look. We’re here.”
A quick glance out the window showed me that Davey hadn’t been kidding when he told me most of The Gardening Gnome’s clients lived in mansions. I’d been nervous before, but now I thought my stomach was going to fall out of my ass. Calm down, Nell. You can do this.
History implied that, in fact, I probably couldn’t. If I wanted to let my past dictate my future, I might as well find a dark corner, curl up in a ball, and avoid trying to do anything for the rest of my life. All things considered, the path forward seemed pretty clear: keep trying, even if it ends up turning into another disaster.
I thought about my little sister, Ashley, to take my mind off visions of burning bushes and me with a pair of gardening shears jabbed through my chest. Sometimes, when everything got too hard, I’d just pull up one of the videos on her YouTube channel of her singing and playing guitar. She put so much heart into her singing, and even if I was biased, I thought she was incredibly talented. I couldn’t watch her videos without tearing up with pride. That little booger deserved better than what I’d managed for myself. She wasn’t a chronic failure like me, and she actually had talent. So I was going to do everything I could to make sure I didn’t screw up this Gardening Gnome job, for her.
And for Davey, I guessed, to a lesser extent, considering he’d definitely get fired too if I messed this up.
If only I had some slight idea of how to properly sculpt a bush. I mean, I did watch a couple videos on YouTube last night… what could go wrong?
2
HARRY
My closet looked like it was shared by a group of entirely different men. There was the assortment of business appropriate clothing, from suits to sport coats and the pants and shoes to match. Then there was the athletic section that held clothing and gear for running, basketball, tennis, and several other sports I enjoyed when time permitted. Another part was riddled with camouflage and bright, neon-colored gear that I used for hunting. I’d even had a custom room built into the back of my closet where I kept all my guns, bows, and spearfishing gear. I’d never admit it to anyone, but I also had a big ass sword in there I liked to swing around when nobody was looking—and yes, I made swishing sound effects.
I stood in the center of my closet wearing nothing but my underwear as I decided which Harry Barnidge I would be today. It was a bitter thought. Somewhere along the way, my life had become a series of separate existences. The friends I'd made through hunting had no idea I enjoyed basketball or tennis. The people I knew from my work as a literary agent had nothing to do with my life as a hunter. I couldn't put my finger on when it had happened, but every passing year only seemed to make the lines between those parts of me even more profound. Some part of me knew the right woman would likely help bring everything back into focus, but I still didn't know if I was ready for all that again.
Like most mornings, I threw on some clothes for a workout and headed to the gym in the East Wing. The walk from my bedroom to the gym was long, and it gave me time to observe the gardens in front of the house. I immensely enjoyed them, whether I was looking out over them from the second-floor windows as I headed to the gym, or just finding a bench among the bushes and flowers to sit and absorb the smells and sounds. More and more, I found myself seeking out those pockets of quiet, like little rocks that provided temporary shelter from the current, which always tried to push me along.
I had gardeners coming in about an hour to touch everything up and sculpt some centerpieces into the huge hedges by the fountain. I was throwing a release party for two of my authors tonight, which meant I wanted everything to be perfect. If I had to choose one key to success in my line of work, it was that appearances were everything. Even my home and garden would play a role in how much publishers offered my authors for their books.
I was a little surprised to see my brother was already inside the glassed-off home gym when I arrived. Considering my brother was a married, grown-ass adult, I had more than a few questions.
I pulled open the door and paused the music that was blaring. “Everything good?” I asked.
Peter dropped the dumbbells he was holding to the mats at his feet. He grabbed a towel and mopped some sweat from his forehead. My brother had darker hair than me, darker eyes, and a darker, angrier natural resting face. He was the kind of guy people were afraid to ask the time of day. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’re at my house at four in the morning and working out?”
“Simple explanation. Violet is out of town with Zoey, and I couldn’t go. I also decided to have some remodeling done at the house. So… right now my bedroom doesn’t have a roof, and my home gym is a construction zone.”
“So you got in your car at, what, three in the morning to drive over here and use mine?”
“Which part is confusing you, exactly? Do you want me to draw you a diagram?”
I grinned. “You’re an ass. And you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
“I came here to lift, not for a therapy session. So no, I probably wouldn’t. Speaking of therapy, though, how did that talk with Nathaniel Cross go?”
“About how I expected. Cross wanted to remind me that he has all the important publishers by the balls, and by extension, he has me by the balls.”
Peter laughed sourly. “Was it worth it?”
“What, punching his son in the nose? Yeah. It was worth it.”
“I still think you missed an opportunity. That woman you pulled him off of looked like she would’ve happily gone home with you instead.”
“Wasn’t interested then, just like I’m not interested now. I’ve got too much on my plate to get involved in a relationship again.” I tapped the panel on the wall to turn the music back on. “You’re doing those wrong, by the way. You keep letting your pinky rotate above your thumbs, and you’ll wind up with a shoulder impingement.”
“Impinge this,” Peter said, flashing me his middle finger.
I ignored him and went to the small pantry and fridge I’d had installed in the room. I personally hated eating healthy, but I’d learned I had to at least force down powdered supplements if I didn’t want to feel like shit all the time. I mixed up my chalky tasting cocktail and gulped it down, wincing when I was finished.
Something about the complete exhaustion and exertion from lifting heavy weights always seemed to clear my head. Within ten minutes, I was already dripping sweat. I let the barbell drop from my hands and clatter to the ground.
Movement at the window caught my eye. I walked over to get a closer look. The green Gardening Gnome van was parked out front. What caught my eye was that the crew wasn’t all male like usual. There was a woman with hair the color of an orange construction cone. I squinted. She was far away, but I thought I could tell from the way she moved that she was attractive, even with the bizarre hair.
I shook my head. Usually, lifting cleared my thoughts. I might as well have been sitting on some serene mountaintop chanting om.
Usually.
For some reason, my thoughts were far from clear. I kept finding myself drawn back to the window where I watched the woman approach the long row of hedges that led all the way down the driveway and up to the front of the house. She spent almost a full minute kneeling, tilting her head, and holding her hands up like she was trying to visualize a picture before she even picked up her shears.
When she finally started working, she was literally cutting one leaf at a time. All I could do was stand at the window and watch. She’d cut a leaf, step back, apparently spend a full minute thinking and visualizing again, then cut another leaf. It was like watching somebody try to mow a golf course with a pair of scissors.
After close to five minutes, I finally peeled myself away from the window and went back to my workout.
Peter was watching me with knowing eyes from the bench where he sat, dripping sweat. “Bird watching?”
“Yeah. You know me.”
“I do. And knowing you, if you saw a bird out the window, you’d probably be looking for a gun so you could shoot it out of the sky.”
I held up a finger. “Hey, now. I’m not a cold-blooded killer. I enjoy hunting, but I only hunt game that is in season, and I only hunt what—”
“I know. I know. You only hunt what you plan to eat and use. I just like seeing you get all pissy.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew that would only add to his enjoyment. Instead, I picked up the barbell again and pictured Peter’s face on the ground every time I dropped it to the mats between sets.
I kept finding myself taking my rests near the window, just watching the gardener with hair like fire. She was clearly out of her mind, but that only seemed to make me more interested. I tried to dig through my own thoughts and decide why I felt so suddenly ready to step away from my hiatus on relationships. A string of bad breakups last year led to me swearing off dating for a while. I was sure if I weren’t currently drenched in sweat and exhausted, I wouldn’t have such a hard time remembering that. Hell, I couldn’t even see her well enough to know what she looked like, so why did she have me so distracted?
