Page 11 of Sterling Fight

Sebastian fell deeply into the didn’t-think-he-deserved-it camp until he met Enya. Surprisingly, I’d met her first in a professional manner. We’re both accountants and shortly after working with our family business she decided to move to Sterling Falls. Then, she met my brother.

And I want to feel the kind of sparks I see between them. That fire in his eyes when he looks at his wife, and the smile on her face when she looks back at him.

Heather and I did not have that kind of flame.

The thought returns my mind to Genie.

Firefly.

She’d been this brief flash of light during my fight. A flicker that popped in the darkness, held, and then extinguished.

I didn’t want that light to burn out.

“Want to go for a ride later?” Sebastian asks, still watching me.

For one of the first days of May, the beautiful day is perfect for a ride around the mountaintop passes near us. Since his return from jail, Sebastian and I share a similar love of motorcycles and the quiet understanding that sometimes you need the rumble beneath your legs and the open road before you. We don’t need to talk. We can just be silent.

Then again, the silence surrounding my loneliness and the chatter of Heather in my ear are two things I’ve been wanting to do away with. Today, I checked one item off my list.

“Rain check?” I suggest, my head a few steps in front of my heart.

Sebastian shrugs and I get busy helping him clean up the bakery before excusing myself.

Suddenly, I have new plans for the afternoon.

The last place I really want to be is Janet Hurley’s home or the Buttercup Society Garden Party. I’m not the face of Sylver Seed & Soil; that’s Clay’s job. Actually, our business logo contains a newly sprouting plant coming out of a clay pot, a symbol of rebirth and growth after our father ran the business into the ground.

As much as I hate that I’ve given in to Clay’s request, because he has other plans that deserve his attention, namely his new little family, I have a change of heart and ulterior motive for being present.

If only I can avoid Heather. Then again, I want everyone to know we are no longer together. And we never will be.

I’m familiar with the concept of wallflowers because I read all kinds of books, so I make myself a plant, stiff and still in a corner near a window, hoping my presence is noted but no conversation is required.

I can tell Clay I did my due diligence. The society is happy Sylver Seed & Soil is represented. And I can get the heck out of here once I see . . .

Genie.

She’s dressed in a monstrosity of a yellow dress. Something poofy, with bows and scalloping, making the bottom look like the layers of a wedding cake. The top portion is fitted, which leaves very little to the imagination, hinting at every curve and dip, and the ampleness of her breasts, although they look a little constricted. To further prove my observation, Genie slips her thumb into the strapless dress right between her breasts and attempts to heave the top portion upward. Her elbow sticks out and she almost clocks the waiter cautiously walking among the crowd with a tray of champagne.

He turns to her as if she were trying to grab his attention, but her nose cutely scrunches as she quickly waves off his offering of the bubbly drink.

Glancing around the room, Genie’s deep brown eyes catch on me. I smile timidly.

I might not want to be here, but it’s my chance to see her again.

Her proposition earlier still haunts me. Can you find me a date by one this afternoon? It might look a bit suspicious to appear as her date within hours of a breakup, but I’m here to keep Genie company, if she’ll let me.

I owe her. An explanation. An apology. Maybe even some groveling.

For some reason, I envision myself on my knees, hiking up that extra wide skirt and diving beneath the fabric to bury my face between Genie’s thighs as a form of apology.

Quickly, I glance away from her. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t do that with Genie. I just separated from someone else. Then again, it’s been months since I’ve done anything remotely close to my imagination with a certain someone.

I don’t even want to think her name, and I’m grateful I haven’t seen her yet.

Slowly, Genie makes her way to me, every few steps nodding at someone, but not stopping to engage in conversation. Pulling up beside me, she mirrors my position, standing close to the corner and staring out at the gathering.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” she eventually asks.