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He shook his head. “Not this many. There aren’t many stars in San Diego. In Yucca Hills, though, lots of stars.” He nudged her, and she looked out the window. He was right. She saw diamonds lodged in the darkness all around them. Somehow, she’d never noticed before. She also had to admit that there were very few stars in the skies above Los Angeles.
Roger pulled into the driveway of Dede’s house. Sully got out first and pulled open her door.
Tell him thank you and good night,Alanna ordered herself.Do NOT kiss him.
But he was gazing into her eyes. Their bodies were so close. She could smell delicious hints of pine aftershave on his skin.
“You told me to take what I want,” he said, his voice low. “I want to kiss you.”
Say no.“Then do it,” she whispered. Her body hummed.
Sully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. His lips came down on hers. They tasted of wine—oak and berries. Without conscious thought, her arms folded around his neck, and her face tilted. Alanna opened her lips, allowing his tongue entrance. He explored her mouth slowly, languidly. She tried to be patient, but finally, she couldn’t stand it, and her tongue rose to meet his.
The kiss seemed to last forever. It seemed to whisper ancient poetry through the touch of their flesh. And yet, it was over all too soon. As Sully stepped back, his missing presence sent a deep chill through her bones.
She was in trouble. So much trouble.
“I want to see you again.” His voice was hoarse, his hair slightly mussed. Had she run her hands through those brown locks without even realizing it?
“Then ask,” she whispered.
“Can I take you out again?”
She nodded, her body and heart a traitor to her better judgment.
“Goodnight,” she whispered and walked to her door. The image of his smile, lips coated with her lipstick, would keep her up late, late into the night.
Ch. 34 Alanna
Don’tthinkaboutthekiss.
Alanna carefully set each dinner plate down on the frayed, woven placemats.
That steamin’ hot, magical kiss that almost made me start singing like a Disney princess.
The next plate had a small chip in the edge. That was her mother’s plate. Dede said the chip was lucky. Dutifully, Alanna moved the plates so that the imperfect one sat in front of her mom’s chair. This was the way of her mother’s things. A little worn but a lot loved.
But God, that kiss.Alanna’s traitorous brain couldn’t get over it, even if she knew her life belonged in Los Angeles.Why did you agree to another date with Sully?She asked herself. That answer was easy. ‘Cause I couldn’t say no.
She set down another plate, blue as a robin’s egg, with small flowers printed around the edges. Her mother had owned these plates for nearly as long as Alanna could remember. No, that wasn’t true.
Alanna paused, the last plate still in her hand as she searched the recesses of her memory. There’d once been white plates with a silver edge around the lip. What had happened to those plates?
Oh, right.Alanna could remember her childhood self slowly piecing together the words—EVICTION NOTICE—taped to the door of their apartment, while her mother sighed. All their things were placed on the curb, including the plates. Her mom had put them into a storage unit… and then missed too many payments. A whole lifetime of possessions gone, just like that. Photo albums, baby clothes, the rocking chair Alanna had loved to play on. Poverty had always felt to Alanna like a fraying rope. Her mother would spend months slowly climbing higher and higher toward stability and then a tiny stumble—a blown tire, an overdraft fee at the bank—would send them all tumbling back down to the bottom.
Eventually, the blue plates had appeared.
The doorbell rang. Alanna placed the last plate on the table, walked to the entryway, and pulled open the door.
“Hello!” Layla sang and pulled Alanna into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re part of Sunday family dinner now. Where’s Mom?”
Alanna grimaced. “In the kitchen... Cooking.”
Layla pulled back from the hug, a frown line digging between her eyebrows. “Do we know if she’s using a recipe?”
“Of course not.” Alanna had to smile. “She’s cooking ‘from the heart.’”
Layla groaned.
