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“Goddamn, Daisy. You smell delicious.”
“I’m sweaty.”
His nose dragged along the side of my neck. Something wet poked against my skin for the barest second, followed by a low groan. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he’d licked me, but that couldn’t have been right. It must have been his lips.
“Like I said, delicious,” he uttered.
My stomach swooped and crash-landed at my feet. Maybe I hadn’t been wrong.
He broke away from my neck to peer down at me, one arm braced beside my head, the other still holding onto my hip. His fingers dug into my flesh, kneading me.
“You made friends with my brother,” he stated.
“‘Friends might be an exaggeration. We had a pretty good conversation once he relaxed, though.”
“That’s what I mean. Weston doesn’t relax.”
I shot him a small smile. “Well…he relaxed in that he didn’t see me as a threat to Elise or you.” My fingers curled into his T-shirt. “Were you and Elise friends in high school?”
He scoffed. “No. I wanted to be, but I didn’t know how to get her attention in a constructive way. I was a dick to her.”
“Those were Weston’s exact words.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t say worse.” The hand resting beside my head moved to my hair, stroking the fine strands. “We both worked at Andes a couple years ago, and I forced my friendship on her.”
“Seems to have stuck.”
“Yeah.”
I felt the need to poke at him a little. “You didn’t get jealous when she went out with Weston?”
He let his forehead fall against mine. “You’re treading on a really complicated bevy of emotions right now and don’t even know it. The bare bones answer is no, I’m not jealous Elise and Weston are together. Them ending up together was always inevitable. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.”
I cupped his cheeks, coaxing his face away from mine so I could look at him. “There’s so much you’re not saying.”
“Too much for a parking lot.” Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he lifted my hand, turned his head, and placed a kiss on my palm. “Thanks for coming out today. You really raised my brother’s opinion of me.”
“I didn’t do anything special, Miles. I think he already likes you.”
He straightened, his hand sliding down my arm. “We did a good job convincing them this is real. I’m giving you the credit for going along with whatever was thrown at you. I didn’t think you’d be so flexible.”
I snorted. “Big family. Grew up above a funeral home. I am used to chaos and every day being different. Today was easy-peasy.”
He squeezed my bicep. “God, you’re cute, Lydia-Daisy-Cupcake.”
I rolled my eyes. “I still seem like a Lydia?”
“Yep, but Daisy is growing on me.”
Miles was growing on me.
He was like the wildflowers he’d picked for me, splashes of bright beauty that seemed to come from nowhere.
We said our goodbyes with promises to meet next week to talk about my progress with Grazing. My social battery was almost on empty by the time I started driving home. When I arrived, all I wanted to do was shower, curl up on my couch, and veg for a solid two hours.
As I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, I remembered the flowers nestled in my backpack. I found a jar in my kitchen, filled it with water, dunked my sweet little bouquet inside, and put it on my desk—exactly where Miles had envisioned.
Then I took a picture and sent it to him.
