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"They're beautiful," she says, running one fingertip along the petal of one rose. "Truly, Finn."
"Good. Then at least one copy of that fucking bullshit book was good for something," I mutter, making her lips twitch. "Are you going to invite me in?"
"I guess so," she grumbles, making me smile this time. "But just so you know, I was completely serious about Aunt Ophelia wanting you to hack mahjong for her. I told her that was illegal, but she says you know people at the NSA so you can do what you want."
"I do know people at the NSA," I say, following her inside. I take a quick glance around, grinning. Ophelia's house is as colorful as she is. Bright paintings hang all over her teal walls. Bookshelves full of knickknacks and collectibles are placed at random intervals. Thick rugs in various shades of fuchsia and aqua protect original hardwood floors. Somehow, it's peaceful instead of chaotic, as if Ophelia's spirit has seeped into the very foundation of the old Victorian.
"You are a super-spy," Scarlett mumbles, carefully setting the bouquet of book roses on a table just inside the front door. She spins to face me with her hands on her wide hips. "Did you computer stalk me, Finn Taylor?"
"Did you computer stalk me, Scarlett Crawford?" I retort, arching a brow.
"Obviously." She rolls her eyes like I just asked the world's dumbest question. "All I found was your business license. What did you find?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes!" she cries. "That's why I asked!"
I laugh quietly, shaking my head. If she keeps being this fucking cute, there's no way I'm leaving here tonight without getting a taste of her. "I didn't computer stalk you, pretty baby," I say seriously. "What I learn about you, I'll learn from you. I want to hear all your secrets from your perfect lips, not from any computer."
"Oh." Her expression softens, and then guilt flickers across her face. "Well, now I feel like a jerk for computer stalking you."
"Don't. We both know you were only looking for pictures of me anyway."
"Was not," she mumbles, but her blush tells me that's exactly what she was doing. She may think she's fooling me, but I see her sneaking peeks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. She can't keep her eyes off me. Scarlett has it bad for me.
Thank God.
"And done," I say, pushing Ophelia's keyboard away from me after dinner. "You're now the master of mahjong. Betty LaCroix won't know what hit her."
"Oh, my stars and garters!" Ophelia crows in delight, clapping her hands together and cackling. "That old heifer will be fit to be tied at our next match!"
Scarlett hides her face in her hands, trying to stifle her laughter. Ophelia Crawford is…well, she's something. She's been giving this town hell for eighty-odd years. I think she was born with hellfire in her soul. When she dies, the whole damn town will mourn her.
"You're such a good boy, Finn." Ophelia pats me on the arm. I'm pretty sure she's trying to cop a feel of my bicep. "I'm glad to see you finally grew out of that awkward stage."
"Awkward stage?" Scarlett's hands disappear from in front of her face so fast they're a blur of motion. "What awkward phase?"
"Braces and bad hair, dear." Ophelia shudders. "Poor boy didn't have a lick of style and had those god-awful glasses to boot. He looked like that ridiculous boy with the weird name in the red and white pajamas everyone is always trying to find in the picture books."
"The ridiculous boy with the weird name in pajamas?" Scarlett repeats, frowning as she tries to figure out who her aunt is talking about. "Do you meanWaldo, Aunt Ophelia?"
"Yes! That's the one." Ophelia pats me on the arm again. "He looked like Waldo. And now look at him."
I chuckle ruefully, rubbing the back of my neck. Of course she remembers exactly what I looked like when I was twelve but can't remember Waldo's fucking name. "That was twenty years ago, Miss Ophelia."
"Scarlett was a round little dumpling with frizzy hair when she was a girl. She stuttered terribly."
"Aunt Ophelia!" Scarlett groans.
"I bet she was beautiful," I say softly.
"Of course she was. You were both adorable children. You were just awkward. It happens when your peers are intimidated by you, you know. Finn was always too smart for his peers, and Scarlett was always too kind for hers." She glances between the two of us. "You two will make pretty babies regardless."
Scarlett nearly swallows her tongue.
"We will make pretty babies," I agree, staring intently at Scarlett. Fuck, the thought of this woman round with my baby, or cuddling my baby in her arms…. I want it with an intensity that's foreign to me. Iachefor it, almost as badly as I ache for her.
The more time I spend with her, the more I crave her, the more I ache for her. This isn't a temporary feeling, something easily sated or fucked away. It'll take a lifetime to work her out of my system. I fear even that won't be long enough. I didn't fall for this curvy little bookworm. I crash-landed into love with her.
