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She slid her knuckles along his sculpted cheekbone, the firm jaw, feathered a fingertip over the lashes a woman would kill to have. "I think we are who we are because of those memories. They can help us make good decisions, better decisions, for ourselves."
"It pulls you down, though," he said. "It makes you sad. Hurts you."
So he was talking about her, the near miss on the climax because she'd gotten mired in old pain. She shook her head, laying her hand on him in reassurance. "What you and Lyda unlock inside of me, I don't yet know how to reconcile that with old wounds, but so far, I'm willing to keep going down that road and figure it out. You made it easier to do that today. Let that be enough."
She thought he might say more, but she put her fingers on his lips, a mute request not to do so. He kissed them. Reassured, she pushed away to retrieve a hidden cache of cookies she'd prudently packed, anticipating his male appetite and sweet tooth. Though she could feel him watching her intently, he said nothing further about it.
That was good. It had been a wonderful day, one that made her all for living in the moment. At least until tomorrow.
Chapter Eight
Gen had never been in a relationship that was like a force of nature, so beyond her control, yet so irresistibly powerful she couldn't help but want to run wild in the storm. Interacting with these two complicated people had so far been exciting, passionate, pleasurable, scary and thought provoking. Disturbing. She was doing things she'd never contemplated doing.
"New blend?" Marguerite inquired, pausing at her elbow.
Gen was preparing the order for a couple at Table Two. The man wanted coffee, the woman, the chai tea special of the day. With a start, Gen realized she'd poured them into the same cup. "Oh good grief."
Giving her an amused look, Marguerite lifted it to her lips, took an experimental sip. Grimaced. "We won't be starting a chai-coffee offering with that blend anytime soon." Dumping it down the sink, she set out a clean mug next to the one that was intended to take the tea. "I'll handle this order. Why don't you make it an early day?"
"I'm fine, M. I'm not sick, just distracted. I'll do better."
"You're doing fine, Gen. I thought you might like extra time to prepare for your evening plans."
She'd mentioned it to Chloe, so of course M knew about it. Before Gen could think of a response, Marguerite nodded toward the door. "Speaking of which."
Gen glanced over her shoulder to see Lyda coming in. Her jeans were stained with dirt, showing she'd already had a busy day. Because the heat index was in the hundreds today, her T-shirt was dark with sweat, her pale face flushed.
"Iced tea," Marguerite said, unnecessarily. Gen was already reaching for it. "Unsweetened. Lyda doesn't do sugar. Put some of that herbal energy blend in it I've been using in the sweet tea order for Todd's group," she added, referring to the construction foreman who came in regularly to get sweetened tea for his crew. "Add some raspberry to cut the bitter."
"Christ, why do I live in Florida?" Lyda grimaced, sliding onto a stool at the counter. She stripped off her gloves, tucked them into her belt.
"Because there isn't a huge demand for nursery stock and perennials in Alaska," Marguerite offered.
"I'd go up there and change that, except Noah hates the cold. That skinny boy would freeze to death the first day."
"Why isn't he or one of the others with you, helping with the deliveries?" Gen now knew Lyda had four employees other than Noah. Lyda's neck and arms were dry. Though she could have mopped them off with a towel in her truck, a lack of perspiration was precursor to heat stroke.
When Lyda raised a brow, Gen realized how sharp she'd sounded. Gen put the tea in front of her, hoping it distracted from the color now in her own cheeks. "Here, drink this. You'll dehydrate fast in this heat."
"I didn't realize," Lyda said dryly. But she laid her hand on Gen's forearm, keeping it there to run a caressing finger over her skin, oddly playful. "I'm fine, rabbit. You need to come to my fitness class to see a real workout."
"Do I have to participate?"
Lyda gave her a feral smile. "Not the first time. As I told you, I like your soft places, Gen. Keep them soft." Her gaze swept over Gen's upper body, pointedly lingering on her breasts and the nip of her waist. Unlike the first time Lyda had visited, today Gen was wearing a fitted shirt that hugged her curves over a nice pair of stressed jeans that had a white stencil of a faded rose down one thigh. She'd always dressed appropriately for work, but her choices were now being driven by new feelings. Cue the Jon Berry song about Rosie.
"Nice look," Lyda murmured. "I hope that's for me."
Since Marguerite was within hearing distance, Gen felt her cheeks heat anew. "You never said where all your employees are," she said hastily.
Lyda waited a beat. "They're out on deliveries as well. We have more business than we can handle lately. I'm going to have to hire more temporary help."
Marguerite drew Gen's attention. She had the coffee and chai tea ready. "Table Two."
"Oh, right. Okay." Picking up the tray, Gen maneuvered around the counter. She was not going to stumble and scald a customer. She wasn't going to act like a teenager whose boyfriend had just stopped in. Or girlfriend. No matter how true that might be.
If it had been Noah, she'd probably still be distracted, but the high, fluttery pulse beating in her throat would have a different cadence. Noah was like wading out into a gentle surf, coaxing her out further and further, because she felt safe in that tide line. Lyda made Gen feel like she was watching an approaching high wave, with only a moment to decide whether to duck beneath it, be swallowed, or take the churning, exhilarating ride to shore. Either way, the wave was going to have her.
Gen delivered the order and did a round of the other occupied tables. When she was done with that, she tidied up one of the workstations. Fortunately, M and Lyda weren't lowering their voices beyond her eavesdropping radar. She sidled closer, anticipating casual conversation, a way for her to enjoy the rise and fall of Lyda's voice, the flow of her moods.
