AllFreeNovel
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The morning goes by quickly as I boil, peel, pat, and mix the food. By the time I’m done, there’s enough for a small army. Once the food’s safely tucked away, the yard is my next destination. The liner doesn’t take long to set, then laying the pattern with the river rock. The foundation has to be laid before I can begin the bigger fixtures.
Jaxton thought he’d arrive late afternoon and when I finish the colorful rock features at the bottom of the pond, it’s already pushing past two. Smeared with dirt and grime, hopping in the shower is a must.
I’m drying my hair when a light knock catches my attention. Thinking it’s Jaxton, I’m surprised to see a man wearing a brown outfit, holding an enormous bouquet of white roses. Their scent drifting to me as he balances the vase back and forth between hands.
“Delivery for a Miss Avery Dawson.” The man’s voice is heavy with fatigue, probably from carrying those flowers around.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Okay, here you go.” He shoves the vase into my hands, petals thrust into my face, until I’m a part of the bouquet. “Have a nice day.” He hollers over his shoulder, leaving me to navigate the new jungle entangling my hair.
“Great.” I mutter, picking through the stems and thorns as the breathtaking aroma fills the kitchen.
Shuffling closer to the table, I’m able to set the vase down and slip the last strand of hair free. They’re gorgeous. Even though they’re lopsided from the struggle, butterflies dance wildly and dive-bomb when a card glares back at me.
Snatching the little envelope like it’s the last piece of cake on earth, I rip it open, and immediately recognized the handwriting.
These roses areredwhite
Violets are blue
Neither of those are as beautiful as you.
~Jaxton
A lump lodges in my throat at their beauty. No one’s ever gotten me flowers, outside of dad. The card slips back on the plastic holder easily, visible to read when I’m in the kitchen. Giddily dancing around the house, my heart gallops into overdrive when another knock hits the door. Those damn butterflies are kicking my organs with excitement.
“Hey!” I greet him enthusiastically.
He’s chuckling as he steps inside, kissing my lips quickly. “Hi, you seem happy.”
“I got your flowers. They’re gorgeous, thank you. How did you know white roses are my favorite?”
“Lucky guess, but I’m glad to know you liked them.”
“Thank you.” I whisper, tipping my toes for another kiss.
He groans, deepening the kiss with a swipe of the tongue, while his hands grip my ass. He uses the leverage to grind against me, maneuvering us around, until he shuts the door behind us without breaking our connection. My back presses to the cool wood while he takes his fill.
When he breaks away to catch his breath, his eyes heat and soften, licking his lips to savor our flavor. That’s when the word vomit starts. “Barbecue… Lunch?” He knows I planned to barbecue, but that’s all my brain will process while scrambled.
His deep chuckle drives a spark between my legs, dragging a whimper that I’ve tried desperately to hide. When he turns away from me, I sigh involuntarily. He’s opened the fridge and is looking at the food I prepared, so it gives me a moment to ogle him. The tan shorts he’s wearing cup his sculpted ass—not to mention the blue shirt hugging his biceps and highlighting his eyes like moons in a night sky. His dark blond hair is a stylish mess, begging for my fingers to feather through, snagging and gripping. A shutter runs from head to toe, anticipating our evening. The dirty images running wild through my mind have triggered nerve endings that never used to exist. A giddy sensation flutters in my stomach, but it bubbles into a giggle when I realize we’re wearing the same color combination.
A smirk tilts as he glances my way, knowing full well that I’m drooling. “What’re you giggling about?”
Pointing back and forth between us, I laugh again, “We match.”
He studies my outfit, his eyes caressing every inch as they travel. When he reaches my eyes again, he chuckles, “So we do.” He steps closer, a breath of air between us, as he wraps an arm around my waist, and lets the fridge slowly close. “Thank you for making lunch. You didn’t have to go through any trouble.” He tucks stray hair behind my ear and trails his fingers along my jaw, encouraging a blush to chase his touch.
“I love it when you do that.” He whispers.
“Do what?” I ask, breathless, heart pounding.
“Blush.” His crooked smile seductively dances, enchanting me forward, until our lips and noses brush.
“Thank you for the note.” His written words ring through my memory.
“You’re welcome.” He pauses, “You know…” He leans closer, if that’s even possible, his breath fanning my lips. “I never got a good morning kiss before I left.”
