“I texted you last night to check on you,” Micah said as I got in her car the next morning and shut the door. “How are you feeling? Did you talk to your mom? Did you see Hot Guy?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why did that make you grin?”
“I went to bed early,” I said. “I’ll be fine. And I did talk to Mom after exhausting every other possible option.” I shook my head, the grin fading away. “I can’t believe what I’m having to do.”
“It’s a decent room,” she said.
I shot her a glare. “It’s a room. Do you remember living there?”
She sighed. “I do,” she said. “Do you remember selling me on it?”
“No kitchen,” I said. “No bathroom.”
“I know.”
I wrapped my arms around my head. “How did this become my life?”
My parents became landlords last summer, renovating the space above the florist shop into two apartments. Well—apartments of a sort. They were fully furnished two-room spaces with a living room and bedroom, a kitchenette area with a mini-fridge and microwave, and a bathroom down the hall. A bathroom to be shared with the tenant across the hall. It was basically a really nice, glorified dorm room. Above my parents’ business.
Because my life wasn’t sucking badly enough.
“It could be worse,” Micah said.
“I could be dead?” I said, my voice muffled into my arms. “Maimed? Have a horrible venereal disease given to me by my ex-husband and his floozy?”
“You could have to move back into your parents’ house,” she said.
Down came my arms. “Oh, dear God, kill me, maim me, give me gonorrhea.” I winced and glanced upward. “Just kidding,” I whispered.
“Just saying.”
“You’re right,” I said. “That would be worse.” I blew out a breath. “Okay, silver linings. I’m up for finding them.”
“Tell me about last night,” she said. “Was Hot Guy there?”
Everything warm flooded my system. “Oh my God, Micah.”
She gave me a side-eyed look. “What?”
“He’s—” I shook my head and sighed.
Even though I’d climbed into bed early, I barely slept. I couldn’t. I was so wound up, and not just wound up, but my mind was seriously on ping-pong mode. From oh my God, what am I going to do to allllllll the good stuff on long loop. All night.
His laugh, his eyes, his way of being all that and down to earth at the same time. His kisses, his touch, how turned on he was, how turned on I was… How in one night—okay maybe two if you counted the five minutes from last week—but really in only about an hour and a half, I had fallen into serious like with an almost one-night stand.
Everything I swore I wouldn’t do. But just like, and just sex—almost. Nothing more. I couldn’t let there be more. The menu was perfect just like it was, all delicious and decadent with a side of sinful.
“He’s what?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Did you do the wild thing already?”
I blew out a breath. “Wild? Yes,” I said. “Thing—not quite. Um, I’ll need a ride by the Ford dealership on our way home. And then maybe a quick jaunt to Denning to get my car? Or maybe Drew can bring me.”
Micah pulled into the parking lot of what was the New Blue Grille, with its new and still unadorned building, and put her Mustang in park. “Okay, spill.”
I spilled.
All, or nearly all, of the yummy details, from the kiwi to the goodnight text, in probably less than a minute.
“And you jumped each other right there in your driveway?” she asked.
“We did.”
“Why didn’t you just go in the house and—”
“I couldn’t,” I said. “It was just too weird to think about doing that there. Although I should have as a final goodbye.”
“Oh Lord, girl,” she said, chuckling as three gorgeous males walked out of the building with a small but mighty brunette woman. Nick, Leo, Bash Anderson, and Allie Greene strolled toward the car. “What have you been doing? Going to hotels or more mugging in back seats?”
I looked out the window. “I haven’t—actually.”
“Haven’t what?”
“Done anything?” I said, looking back at her with a resigned smile.
Her eyebrows raised, but her response was delayed by a big hand motioning for her to roll down her window. She complied, and Leo, the biggest of the pretties, leaned in.
“Decided to come hang out in the parking lot?” he asked, as Micah smiled and dropped a kiss on his lips.
“Isn’t that called loitering?” Allie said, leaning an elbow on Leo’s shoulder.
“Or prostitution,” Nick said, leaning his head into the line of sight.
“Yep, y’all figured us out,” Micah said. “We’re hooking up for some extra cash.”
“Well, I have to get back to work,” Bash said, planting a kiss on Allie’s cheek and waving at us. “Hook up on the sly, will you? The mayor doesn’t need to know these things.”
I laughed. “Will do, Mayor A.”
“Lanie told me what you decided on for paint this morning,” Micah said. “I’m stopping to pick it up on our way back from Cherrydale, and I’ll be here with everything later this afternoon.”
“Take a breath,” Allie said, elbowing Leo out of the way as if he were a kid and not three times her size. “There’s not a rush.”
“Allie, y’all lose money every day, and it’s been eight months,” Micah said. “Don’t think I don’t know that. And it’s so close to reopening.”
Allie nodded, and I saw the weary hope in her smile. “It’s getting there,” she said. “Another month, probably, to get everything up to code, and then we’ll be ready.” She leaned in. “Of which maybe three days of that is painting, so—take a breath.”
Micah sighed. “I just—”
Allie rested a hand on her arm. “I know.”
Micah nodded and looked away, blinking hard. “Okay. Well, anyway, I’m still picking up everything today. We’re gonna head to the farm.”
“I think Bash and I are going to Rojo’s tonight,” Allie said. “Maybe Carmen too—”
“Nope, she and Sully are out of town, remember?” Nick said. “They won’t be back till next week.”
Allie sighed and tucked errant hairs behind her ears. “No, I didn’t remember. My brain can’t hold much more.”
“Which is why I’m coming to paint,” Micah said, wide-eyed and stubborn.
“Which is why I need a night of relaxing,” Allie said, matching her expression and laughing. “The guys have been cooking something up, so I figured I’d tailgate on their party. If you come, I don’t look so needy.”
“I’m working,” Leo said, referring to the small detail that he would already be there, bartending like a Greek god with mixer cups. Okay, maybe that was just my perception. Probably Micah’s, too. He shuffled on his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. “But I can make sure you’re fed,” he added, leaning over with a mischievous grin.
“Sounds good,” Micah said. “Hey, what if I invite my brothers? My little brother is in town and driving Thatcher crazy, it would be good to air them out a little.”
“Do it!” Allie said, slapping her hand on the window ledge. “Bring Drew, too, if she isn’t busy. I haven’t seen her in a while. See you then!”
“Well, I’ll see you—” Micah began.
“Tonight,” Allie reiterated.
Micah sighed and laughed. “Fine.”
“Be careful,” Leo said, his presence filling the window again. “I love you.”
It was my turn to look away as the intimacy between them filled the car. It had been a long time since I had that. Felt that. Even married to Bart, we’d lost that somewhere.
I missed it.
And I immediately wanted to spit that thought out on the pavement.
“So,” Micah said as her man extricated himself from her lips and we started moving again. “Back to what we were talking about.”
Thank God. “Which was?”
“You not having sex,” she said.
I nodded. “Ah.”
“What about the guy from that club in Goldworth? Ben, I think?”
“Kissed me goodnight by my car,” I said. “On my cheek.”
“Chad?”
“We had dinner and I skipped out when I went to the bathroom,” I said.
“Geez,” she said. “And—”
“Anyone else, I lied or made them up,” I said, holding up a hand. “I know. I rot.”
“But why, Gabi?” she asked. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I know,” I said, raking my hair back. “But I guess I thought I needed to follow up all that sex only talk with some action.”
“You weren’t ready,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“And then this guy,” I said, breathily.
“Came along when you were ready,” she said, gesturing to me.
“Am I?” I asked, my voice going up a little too high. “Because I’m not some big catch here. I mean I’m baggage times a million and not thinking straight. My world has been yanked out from under me three times this year, and two of them yesterday. I’m not sure of anything. But one touch—hell, one look—and suddenly my body was like sign me up! Then we were talking, and laughing…”
Micah smirked. “Sex doesn’t care about baggage, Gabi. But it sounds like more than just your body is interested.”
I covered my face with my hands. “This is so crazy.” I peeked through my fingers. “He’s so—I don’t know. I mean yes, Micah, he could have had me in that truck. As far as the physical goes, I don’t care how difficult it would have been to get naked enough, if he’d kept going, I’d have ridden him like a prize stallion.”
I’d heard the rest of what she said, but I chose to ignore it. Yeah, maybe, another time and place and no humiliating life events, and possibly that smile and wicked gaze and laugh would kick me in the heart and make me want for something awesome. This, however, was not that time. This was no-strings world for me, and I had to be happy with the potential to bang a really hot man who wanted to bang me back. In a bed surrounded by food.
I could think of worse things.
She laughed out loud. “It’s been a long time, Gabi,” she said. “You’re allowed to be horny.”
“That’s the thing,” I said, dropping my hands back into my lap. “I really thought it would be weird for another man to touch me. To kiss someone other than Bart after all these years.” I glanced at her sideways. “Even after what he did, I just couldn’t imagine it. Every guy I talked to or went out with, I’d sit there thinking about it and it was like pondering a salad over ice cream.”
“Bart was ice cream?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Not even close. But I’m saying no one brought my interest level up past salad.” I twisted in my seat to look at her. “I need more than salad.”
“Well, yeah,” she said, quirking an eyebrow.
“I want someone to vault past salad, past the entrée, past the sexy veggies, past even the cheap ice cream you pump yourself with the drizzle of caramel,” I said.
Micah nodded. “You want crème brûlée,” she said.
I gasped and widened my eyes. “I want crème brûlée.”
“And Hot Guy?” she asked.
“Wears it like a second skin,” I said, making her giggle. “Seriously, he’s—he’s easy. He makes me laugh. He’s easy to talk to. He smells delicious, and yes, I still have his damn jacket and I smelled it this morning and oh my God,” I said, closing my eyes. “I’m not even kidding when I say my clothes want to throw themselves off when he kisses me.”
She gave me a sideways grin. “You are off the rails, my friend.”
“I’m off the friggin’ planet,” I said. “I don’t know how I’m gonna wait a week.”
Micah smirked. “You like him.”
“I can’t like him,” I whispered, frowning at her.
She giggled. “But you do. You like him like him.”
“Are we twelve now?”
“Gabi and Hot Guy sitting in a tree…” she sang.
“You’re insane,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “No. No trees. I don’t do that. I can’t do that. And I’ve known him for all of like thirty seconds, so how much sense does that make?”
She blinked and put on an innocent expression, placing her hand on her chest. “When the heart knows, it knows.”
I scoffed. “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t use the H word.”
“I thought it was the L word,” she said.
“The L word, H word, R word,” I listed.
“What’s the R—”
“Relationships,” I said. “The only words we use are the S one and all things related to it by blood.”
“Do you think maybe you’ve graduated to knowing each other’s names now?” she asked. “I mean, almost-sex in a truck and making plans for more—I’d say that qualifies for real names.”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah. Maybe. But there’s something kinda sexy about the mystery.”
“Lord,” she said under her breath. “Is there a plan for this undressing you with his mouth thing? Or is this just going to be an after-the-meeting interlude every Thursday night?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shutting my eyes shut tight again. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“What do you know?” she asked.
“That I need some new batteries for my little gadget,” I said, making Micah snort with laughter as I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Because after last night’s activities, I can’t wait another night, much less a whole week.”
* * * *
I’d only been to Cherrydale Flower Farm one other time, officially, not counting the time that Micah drove me and Leo by it on the way to deal with her ex-fiancé. The official visit had brought me through the greenhouses and fields to see where Micah worked. I’d met Roarke, the big bodied, gruff helper who clearly had as big a soft spot for Micah as she had for him, but I’d never personally met her brother, Thatcher, who ran the business.
Since we’d started the partnership between the farm and Wild Things, there’d been a million emails back and forth, but the elusive Thatcher Roman was a hard man to catch in person. Micah sighed when we pulled up to the office and parked, gesturing toward an empty parking spot closest to the door.
“Of course, his truck isn’t here,” she said. “Damn it, Thatch, you knew I was coming.”
“Maybe he slept in,” I said.
“Thatcher doesn’t sleep in,” Micah said. “He’s the most annoyingly punctual, put together person I know. I swear he wakes up perfect.”
I pulled down the visor mirror and swiped under my eyes. I did not wake up perfect, and my attempts to remedy the tired-looking me hadn’t been too successful.
“That’s just wrong,” I said, slapping the visor back up.
“His ex-wife thought so, too,” she said.
We got out and walked across the crunchy gravel to the door.
“His wife left because he’s perfect?” I asked. “That’s kind of harsh even to me.”
“No, but it did drive both of them crazy,” Micah said. “They were so different. Think about if Hot Guy turned out to be a clean freak and obsessed with structure like Thatcher. You’d lose your damn mind.”
“Very true,” I said. “And kind of possible,” I added, remembering how perfect he’d looked the first time. “It would be disastrous.”
“It’s why I’ve never tried to hook the two of you up,” Micah said, opening the door. “You’d kill each other, and then where would Wild Things be? Where would I be?”
I laughed as we entered a woodsy-smelling lobby where an older lady with unnaturally jet-black hair and tiny red cheaters looked up from a paperback and smiled.
“Morning, Miss Roman,” she said.
“Good morning, Estelle,” Micah said. “Did my brother forget we had a meeting, or did he just run out of my favorite coffee and make a mad dash out for more?”
Estelle made a scoffing sound and both women chuckled as if that were the most ludicrous thing ever.
“When have you known him to run out of anything?” she said, one drawn-in eyebrow quirked. “Or forget a meeting, for that matter? But he does have me a bit flummoxed today. He’s not in, yet.”
While Micah frowned, I made a mental note to work the word flummoxed into a conversation sometime in the next seven days.
“I don’t think so,” Estelle said. “He left me a message saying he was taking care of some out of town business and would be here in time for your ten o’clock.”
“What out of town business?” Micah asked. “With Jackson?”
Estelle shrugged. “I don’t know. But I will say he sounded weird.”
“Weird?” Micah asked, a concerned line pulling her brows together. “Weird how?”
“Just different,” Estelle said, looking around as if the nearby pot plant would hand her the correct word. “Chirpy, maybe?”
Micah laughed. “My brother is many things, but chirpy has never been one of them.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Estelle said, palms up. “His voice was so—happy. Energetic.” She widened her eyes. “Weird.”
“Maybe he got laid,” I whispered to Micah.
“That was my first thought,” Estelle said, pointing a pen at me.
“Jesus, she has good hearing,” I said even softer and from behind my hand as I relegated myself to looking at framed photos of wildflowers, flowering trees, and rosebushes. I was always better with those things, anyway.
“Believe me,” Micah said. “Even Wonder Woman herself couldn’t made Thatcher late for work.” She pointed at a door. “I’ll text him we’re here. Okay if we just wait in his office?”
Wonder Woman. My inner slut snickered.
Wow, were all roads going to lead to him, today?
“Sure thing,” Estelle said, adjusting her little red glasses back onto her nose.
We entered a very basic office with a no-nonsense desk, a guest chair, a couch, one framed degree on the wall, and many labeled folder slots with color coded files. There were two photographs behind his desk. One looked older, slightly faded, both were an image of three people, and I assumed it was probably the three siblings at different points in time.
“I forgot to tell you that Jackson texted me this morning,” Micah said, sinking onto the couch. “He wants to take us to lunch later.”
“That’s cool,” I said, heading toward the photos. I wanted to see Micah as a crazy kid.
“We’ll see how cool it is when Thatch gets here,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll have something to say about it. You don’t like Chinese, do you?”
“Not my favorite,” I said. “But if we must, I can find something, why?”
“Because it’ll cheer Thatcher up if he’s grumpy,” she said. “Then again, Estelle said he’s all happy, so I’d love to know what that’s all about.”
I turned to her with a chuckle. “You say that like he’s a perpetual cloud of doom.”
She gave a little head shrug. “No, just—he tends to take everything so seriously, and gets exasperated with things, and people, that don’t make sense to him.”
“Like Jackson,” I said, picking up the photo of them as children.
The three of them were on a park merry-go-round, making faces for the camera. They were dirty with Kool-Aid smiles, and Micah was missing her front teeth. The younger boy had dark eyes and hair like Micah, and a short buzz cut. Micah had what looked like a rope tied around her head like a headband, the ends hanging down like a gypsy or a pirate. The older boy, Thatcher, had lighter hair and eyes, but the same facial features and grin. There was a familiarity about him that I couldn’t place, but they all had the same cocky expression. None of them could deny each other, that was for sure.
“Exactly,” Micah said. “My dad took that picture of us on a picnic. It was the weekend before he died.”
I let the photo land at my side, still in my hand. “I’m so sorry, Micah.”
She shook her head and rose to her feet.
“Don’t be,” she said, reaching out for the photo. “No need. It’s a nice memory. I’ve got it too, somewhere.” She smiled down at it, her expression going a little drifty. “My mom wasn’t there that day, so there was no making everything about her. It was just us, being goofy, and my dad having fun with it. Probably the last time Thatcher was ever this relaxed.”
I picked up the other photo, just as the door opened behind us. Micah set the first one back and turned around.
“Hey, big brother,” she said. “Whoa, what happened to you?”
A question like that would normally cause me to spin around in wonder to see what was up, but I was frozen in place as I gazed upon the photo in my hand. Three adults, apparently at a beach bar somewhere, holding up drinks and smiling. Sort of. Micah and a man I imagined to be her little brother smiled, head to head. The other one grinned like he was tolerantly waiting for the moment to end. A grin I’d seen before. Eyes I’d seen before. Lips I’d just—
I couldn’t breathe.
It couldn’t possibly be.
“What do you mean?” a man’s voice said behind me, followed by a breathy chuckle.
A voice I’d been replaying in my head all night. It couldn’t be. My feet might as well have sprouted roots into the floor, I couldn’t turn around, but seriously—it fucking couldn’t be.
“Uh, this laid-back five-o’clock-somewhere look you’ve got going on?” she said. “Who are you?”
He laughed again, sending goose bumps down my back and arms.
Mmm, goose bumps. You like that.
Yes, I do.
I swallowed hard against the memory, almost wanting to prolong the moment. That last few seconds of mystery before real life had to crash and burn my fantasy. I was still kind of hidden and to the side as long as I stayed really still. Maybe I could duck under his desk and Micah would just forget she’d brought me. He’d sit down, and—oh God, he’d sit down. With me under his desk. My face lit on fire. Okay, there was a window in the corner, maybe I could crawl to it and escape, and—
“Just feeling good today, baby girl,” he said. “Even Jackson couldn’t piss me off this morning.”
Micah snorted. “That’s a sure sign that something’s up. Estelle thinks you got laid.”
Oh my God, I’d—shit. Damn, hell, shit, this was so many kinds of fucked up, and no one knew it yet but me.
He laughed, and I realized I was still thinking of him as He. He was real, now. He had a life and a world and a family and a name outside of divorce group and the cab of his truck. He was—
“Speaking of,” Micah said, and I shut my eyes. No, not speaking of. “Gabi suggested the same thing, and she hasn’t even met you yet.”
It was over. The fantasy was over. Suck it up, Gabi, time to adult.
I turned around slowly, my mouth going dry and my heart making a last ditch slam against my chest. He still hadn’t turned my way, and those two seconds seemed to stop just for me. Good God, he was nearly edible in a gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up, untucked over jeans. Work boots. Last night’s scruff was gone, as if he had to draw the line somewhere, but holy fuckballs. The easy smile on his face was the same one I’d seen under the dome light last night when I’d opened the truck door.
“So, spill it, big guy,” Micah said, throwing her arms around him. “Who’s the woman?”
His head cocked my direction as he chuckled and gave his sister a hug, and everything about him stilled. His expression went through all the steps mine probably had when no one was looking. Shock, surprise, pleasure, and that thing your eyes do when you unexpectedly see someone you have a thing for. Right before wait a minute and confusion and shit, followed by another shit and a few what the fucks if my brain was any indication.
He blinked twice and frowned as if that might change things. Oh, if only.