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"Oh my gosh, that's right, I'm sorry."
"You've been wrapped up in your own thing."
I felt like a terrible friend. "Well how's your course load?"
"Manageable." She nodded at the waiter as he set the teapot in the center of our table. "Nothing really earth-shaking."
I nodded. That was all I could get out of her. Bitching and gossiping about her job was something Jasmine never did. Jasmine kept her work life and social life so completely separate; I sometimes forgot she even had a job. She managed to make balance and harmony actually look achievable. Living with her these past few months had taught me more about being an adult than my parents ever had.
Mom and Dad were just eager to hand me off to the first guy that came along, so they could go back to life being what it was before my birth interrupted their good time. I always suspected as much, and it was confirmed pretty clearly the night I announced my engagement at the tender age of twenty-two. "She's someone else's problem now," I heard my dad tell my mom behind their bedroom door. "We're finally done."
I shifted in my chair. No need to relive the bad memories. "And how are the kids?" I asked Keysha.
Kiki sighed rapturously. She was a teacher at one of the special ed preschools for the county. "There's this little guy? Trevor? He's absolutely truck-obsessed. For weeks I couldn't get him out of the corner. He just stayed there with his tucks, rolling them across the windowsill, completely oblivious to everything else." Her eyes shone. "Today? He sat on my lap."
"Oh that's incredible, congratulations!" I clapped. Kiki beamed.
"Is he autistic?" Jasmine wanted to know.
"Spectrum for sure. But he's such a special little guy, I hated that he was so locked-up." She looked down at her fork and sighed. "I hope the parents are doing the recommended OT."
"He has you, and that's so important," Jasmine smiled and patted Kiki's thigh.
The pensive look slid right off of Kiki's face and she went right back to beaming.
I smiled at them both and as I did, I caught my reflection in the darkened plate glass window behind Jazzy. In the low light, I felt beautiful and safe for the first time in a long time. Snug in the warm restaurant with my two best friends while the world froze out in the dark gave me a safe, warm feeling in my belly.
It was fleeting, gone before I could grasp it and hold on, but it was enough to make me duck back down to my curry with a smile on my face.
I was going to be just fine.
Chapter Five
The huge, lumpy figure loomed in the corner of my sight.
I shrieked and nearly fell off of my stool "How long have you been standing there?!" I yelped at Kit.
He crossed his arms over his down-jacketed chest and chuckled in the direction of the arrangement I was working on. "You're here...early." His voice dripped with meaning.
I smoothed my eyebrows. "Yeah. I wanted to get started on the receipts for 2010."
"Mmmhmmm." Kit looked pointedly around. "And whereabouts are those receipts?"
"Shut up," I growled, and carefully placed the sprig of lily of the valley above the amaryllis.
Kit waited a beat. "What time is he coming?"
Bastard knew I sucked at lying. "I don't know," I sighed.
"So you came in early...in case he comes in early?"
"Christopher Francis Young, I thought I requested that you shut up, already."
Mirth was dancing in his eyes. They were actually, honest-to-god twinkling. Never had he looked more like Santa Claus's redheaded, gay cousin than right now. "I must have hit my head pretty hard last night, because I swear, the last thing I remember about this guy is you trying to claw his face off."
I threw the sprig down, huffing. "Kit, I don't even know what I'm doing," I moaned, burying my head in my hands. "He got to me, okay? Haven't you ever had a guy get to you?"
"No. Never," Kit deadpanned. I shot him a look. "Lover, it's completely clear. Your last guy was shit. You want to believe this new guy, the first one who's paid attention to you since you left the shit guy, isn't shit. So instead of listening to your gut, you're here early working on the flowers he ordered and thinking about his pretty, pretty eyes. Do I have it right?
"Ugh," I stabbed the lily haphazardly to the foam. "Yes. Have I mentioned I hate you?"
But Kit didn't answer. He was staring at the front door with an unreadable expression on his face. I turned to where he was looking and my own jaw nearly fell to the floor.
"Good morning," Liam called, cradling a tray of coffees close to his chest.
Kit was the first to recover. "Good morning sir!" he trilled, stepping gracefully in front of me and I quickly cleared the arrangement off of the counter. "Your order isn't quite ready yet."
"I know," Liam smiled, setting the tray down on the counter. "I was just dropping by to say hello."
"You were?" I asked stupidly. God, his eyes were even better than how I remembered them. They looked like chips of sea ice on foggy waters. They pulled me into their depths and suddenly there wasn't anything else in the room besides him and me.
"When I was in here yesterday, you seemed cold," he grinned, showing that dimple that was going to be the death of me. Was there a double meaning there? Oh, he's good. "I stopped by on my way in to drop these off." He gestured to the coffee. "Hoped that might warm you up a little."
Offerings of coffee? Jasmine was right. He really had read my manual.
"You have no idea how I like my coffee," I told him bluntly. Two could play this double meaning game.
"I know how I like mine...," he trailed off.
"If you say 'like how you like your women,' I'm going to smack you," I seethed. No one had ever used that line on me before. I was honestly a little impressed.
"So that's all I'd have to do to get you to smack me?" He extended a cup in my direction. "I'll remember that."
That raised eyebrow. "No." I reached and took the proffered cup. Black as sin and sweet as death. It was perfect, and as the warmth and caffeine spread through my veins, I couldn't help but sigh in relief. "No, there are plenty of other reasons I can think of to smack you." Though I can't think of a single one at the moment.
"Ahem," Kit stepped into the middle of us. "This is very kind of you, Mr. Graves."
"Call me Liam," he replied, standing straighter and extending his hand.
"Kit. Christopher. Kit." Aww, Kit was tongue-tied. It was adorable. Wait, did I look that moony when I talked to Liam?
"Is this your shop, Kit?"
"My mother's." Kit was practically drooling. And with Liam's attention away from me, I was free to undress him with my eyes again.
He was wearing a woolen pea jacket several shades darker than his eyes, trimmed in leather at the collar and the hem. It looked soft, but with an edge, like there was more to this guy than skillful flirting. "Your mother's? That's incredible. You two work together?"
Kit puffed up. "We do." His evident pride put to rest any questions about apron strings or mama's boys. "She's getting on in years, but this has been her life's work and I plan on keeping it on as long as she can. And I can."
Liam chewed his lip in thought. Strange shadows were passing over his face. "That's wonderful," he finally said, but his tone was guarded.
He looked back at me. "It was good to see you again, Shay. I'll be back tomorrow."
"You will?" I squeaked.
"For my bouquet?"
ooh. that. "Thank you for the coffee, Liam." My hand fluttered at the edge of the counter Was I going to shake his hand? Touch his arm? What exactly was I doing here?
He answered that question by snatching my hand up and bringing it to his mouth. The lightest touch, the barest brush of his lips against my knuckles, and then he set it down again. Only the searing heat in my core remained.
"I hope you'll let me do it again," he said, and his voice was strangely tight.
"Bring me coffee?"
"That too."
"Oh."
"Have a good
day," he turned and nodded at Kit, who was openly staring. "Both of you."
When at last he left, I found I could finally move my legs again and promptly sagged into the stool.
Kit turned to me. "Girrrrrrl."
