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“Friendship.”
She sniffed the petals again. “Is that what we have here?”
He hadn’t tried to define what was going on between them until now. It was more complicated than friendship, but that title was safe and easy, so he went with it. “That’s what I’d like to think.”
Her eyes reflected her approval. “Me, too.”
* * *
She’d slept in!
The next morning, Gabrielle awoke with a start. It was Deacon’s fault that she’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning. He’d loaned her that book and it was good—no, it was great. She raced through her bedroom, trying to get ready for work as fast as she could. It wasn’t that Deacon would be standing there by the office door waiting for her to arrive. It was more a matter of how much she wanted to accomplish that day.
She opened the door of the guesthouse and found a bud vase with a single yellow rose. She glanced around for Deacon, but he was nowhere to be seen. What had happened to the man who used to growl at her? She knew where she stood with his former self, but with this new version of Deacon, she was constantly losing her footing.
Deacon wasn’t all good or all bad—he was both, but she was quickly learning that there was a lot more good in him than bad. She picked up the rose and lifted it to her nose. Its perfume was gentle but delightful. She’d never smell another rose without thinking of him.
She loved that each color of rose had a meaning. What impressed her more was that Deacon had learned the meanings in order to delight his mother.
As she carried the flower into the guesthouse to find just the perfect spot for it, her aunt’s words came back to her: if you find a man that is good to his mother, he will also be good to you. Gaby had only been a know-it-all teenager when her aunt had given her these sage pieces of advice, but somehow they’d stuck. Someday, some woman was going to be very lucky to have Deacon by her side.
But it wasn’t going to be her.
Even if she were drawn to him, the cards were stacked against them. There was just too much baggage between them. Relationships were hard enough under normal circumstances, but theirs was outside the bounds of normal.
As she tried to dismiss the profound meaning of Deacon making this gesture, she recalled what he’d said about yellow roses: they meant friendship.
Did that mean he considered her a true friend? The acknowledgment stirred a rush of emotions. She tried to tamp down her reaction, but her heart refused to slow. She once again breathed in the flower’s gentle perfume.
The fact that it wasn’t her birthday and it wasn’t a holiday made this gesture all that much more special. He’d done it just because he could. This was the most thoughtful thing a man had ever done for her.
She knew then and there that she was in trouble. Deacon was working his way through all the barriers she’d built around her heart. Why did it have to be him that got to her? He was the absolute last person she should be interested in and yet, he was the one that kept her awake at night. And when she did fall asleep, he was the one that filled her dreams.
She was still puzzling over what to do about her feelings for Deacon when he materialized in the doorway of the office. He looked quite handsome. The dark circles under his eyes were fading and when he smiled, it eased the worry lines bracketing his eyes.
“I hope you had a good night,” he said.
Gaby yawned. She didn’t know if there was enough coffee in the world to keep her awake today. “Morning.”
His eyebrows gathered. “Don’t tell me you were working all night.”
“No. I was reading.” She recalled the book, so she grabbed it from her purse and handed it to him. “Thank you. It was just as good as you said it would be. It had me guessing right up until the last chapter.”
He accepted the book. “I’m glad. But you didn’t have to read it so quickly.”
“Yes, I did. Once I started reading, I had to keep going. It’s the way I am when I get into a book.”
When he nodded in understanding, their gazes met and held longer than necessary, and her heart began racing. Her stomach shivered with nerves. She’d never had a problem speaking with anyone until now. When she glanced away from him, her gaze skimmed over the yellow rose. “Thank you for the rose. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He stepped back and leaned against the desk opposite hers. “I’ve been thinking that you have everything pretty much planned out for the event except for the menu.”
“I guess I need to do that sooner rather than later so I can give the caterer the menu.” She pulled out a pad of paper. “Do you have a preference for the format? Sit-down? Buffet? Finger foods?”
He paused as though giving each option due consideration. “This is going to be more of a garden party than anything else, correct?”
Gaby wouldn’t exactly classify the event that way, but for the lack of a better term, she went with it. “Sure.” Following his line of thought, she said, “So the finger foods might be best.” When Deacon nodded, she added, “And we could have the wait staff mingle with trays.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
