Season's Change: Summer: A Goddess Legacy Companion Novel (Goddess Legacy 1.5) (7 page)

I didn't say anything. I still felt bad for Chloe. Hopefully, she wasn't too invested in any particular fantasy about Chrys. She would just have to wait until he was available. Boys our age tended to change girlfriends more often than they changed their shoes. She would get her chance, eventually.

"So do you
like
this mystery man who's taking you out tonight?" "Yeah." I shrugged.

Chrys enjoyed that. He just smiled and said, "Hmmm . . ."

"Do
you
like that special person in your life?" I asked, throwing his question right back at him.

"Of course."

Neither one of us was going to give details. I needed to figure a way out of this conversation before he asked me another question about Don.

"Do you hope to have other dates with this guy?" he asked quickly.

Crap!
"I guess so. I . . . I'll just have to see how it goes."

Smirk?

He nodded and smiled. No, that wasn't really a smile; it was more like a smirk.

"So are you going to tell me anymore about your family?" I asked, to change the

subject. I didn't want to talk about family today, but I really didn't want to talk about our love lives.

"Not yet. But I
am
doing some research into yours, and I have to tell you, if I'm on the right track, your family is pretty fascinating."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to elaborate just yet. I'm still digging, and I don't want to tell you something that isn't really true."

"But if you've already found out something, how could it
not
be true?" "It's complicated." His tone was serene, and I could tell he wasn't going to

explain. Fine. I would get it out of him, eventually. I'd rather wait for a day when I could give him my undivided attention, anyway.

"I'll get it out of you. One day."

"You won't have to try hard," he whispered. Suddenly, his expression looked pained; his eyes held a sadness that I didn't even want to try to analyze.

"I guess I should get back to work," I said, standing up, not making eye contact. I discarded my paper plate and got a soda out of the vending machine before leaving the break room..

The afternoon was worse than the morning. I read a magazine, which helped, but the closer it got to being the time for me to get off work, the more I stressed about my date.

Chrys finally let me leave early, so I hurried out the door. The wind was whipping in every direction. My hair flew around my face, and I struggled to brush it aside as I hopped in my car. When I got on the road, anticipation made it feel like I'd never get home, but I did. I grabbed the variety of clothes that Chloe and I had picked out, which I'd put gingerly in my trunk this morning, and ran upstairs. I took a nice, long shower, which actually helped my nerves, and contemplated which outfit I would

go with. I understood I couldn't make a final decision until I knew what we were doing, but with the wind howling as it was, I knew a skirt would be out of the question. I wanted to feel pretty, not pretty embarrassed, which was exactly how I would have felt if my skirt flew up.

I got out of the shower and barely dried off when I heard the phone ringing. I wrapped the towel around me as I flew out of the bathroom, grabbing the phone.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Hi," Don said, sounding relieved, making the word last several seconds. "Hi." I smiled brightly. He sounded so good!

"We're still on for tonight, right?" he asked casually but with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes, where are you taking me?"

"I wanted to take you to a botanical garden, but it's pretty windy outside. How about we just go out to eat? Do you like Japanese food?"

"Yes. I
love
sushi."

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven. We can do the botanical garden tomorrow, if you'd like."

He was already making plans with me for tomorrow before we even went out tonight?
Yeah!

"Sounds good. I'll see you later."

I couldn't believe it. I'd get to see him in a couple of hours and again tomorrow. This just kept getting better and better! Who cared about what Chrys knew? So what if my mom made plans to come get me next year? Chrys had a death certificate just like me, but he wasn't scared about dying on his birthday. All that would just have to wait. I was going to enjoy this part of my life.

I no longer felt nervous about tonight. Just knowing Don wanted to see me again tomorrow seemed to wash away those pre-date jitters.

I decided to wear some trendy jeans and a red blouse, so I could wear my new, red, designer pumps. I fixed my hair so part of it was pinned up in a loose, sexy style—I

figured it'd keep it out of my eyes, and any damage the wind did to it would just enhance the effect I was going for.

I sat in the living room as I waited for Don to arrive and thought about this evening and what it meant to me. Through all the years that we were friends, I never believed Don would feel about me the way I felt about him. Maybe he didn't. Not yet. But I knew he liked me and having this knowledge was overwhelming. Tonight would be our first date. The first of many, I hoped. As I hoped, I knew. I could feel that this date was going to be the start of something big.

And I was ready for that.

T
hree soft knocks
sent my heart racing and body leaping off the couch. I took a deep breath and exhaled through smiling lips before opening the door.

There stood the best-looking man in the world. His hair was tousled and gelled into place, his face sporting a light tan from his vacation. He wore a white, fitted, button-down shirt with a cotton T-shirt underneath, peeking out from the two unfastened buttons at the top. The bright white of his shirt made his blue eyes glow more than I'd ever seen. His jeans were faded but still dark and loose, cinched with a brown belt that matched his shoes. Even in my four-inch heels, he still stood taller than me.

As I appraised him, he certainly was getting his own assessment of me. His grin grew wider as he took me in, starting in the opposite direction that I went. From my shoes to my hair, he didn't find one thing he didn't like.

"You—" he hesitated, trying to keep his composure— "are absolutely breathtaking."

"Thanks." I beamed, not wanting to blush. "You look very handsome yourself."

He smiled at me and pulled his right hand out from behind his back and into view. He held a dozen, long-stemmed red roses wrapped delicately in floral paper. I gasped, and the smile on his face turned into a gleam.

He stepped closer and handed me the flowers. "These are for you."

"Thank you," I whispered. "They're beautiful." I didn't know what else to say or if I would be able to get anything else out without my voice cracking.

"They match perfectly," he said, glowing.

And he was right, with the red roses against my red blouse, I was picture perfect.

I excused myself to put the flowers in water and returned to the door, pulling it shut behind me.

Don held my hand and walked beside me as we made our way to his car—never once taking his eyes off me. I glanced down, feeling more shy than normal but kept a soft grin on my face. Once we reached the passenger door, I made eye contact with him.

"Your eyes are more blue than green today," he murmured. "They look like the ocean. Just as powerful and deep. Beautiful," he breathed. Then he let go of my hand to open the door for me. Being the gentleman that he was, he placed his other hand on the small of my back to guide me into the seat, and then gently shut the door before getting in on his side.

He pulled out of my driveway watching the road carefully but keeping a smile on his face. I wondered if he would speak first or if I should. I knew exactly what I wanted to ask but wasn't sure if I should start off with a question like the one I was thinking of. After a few seconds of silence, I decided to give it whirl.

"So, what brought this on?"

His eyebrows came together like he was thinking of a way to respond. "I . . . er . .

. I've liked you for a long time," he said slowly, nodding to himself like that answer would suffice and then looking at me.

I smiled at him when he made eye contact with me. I really had no way to respond to that.

"Why did you agree to go out with me?" he asked softly.

Oh no. How should I answer?
"I've liked you for a long time." There. He should be able to understand his own words, and I didn't have to think of a different way of phrasing my answer without giving too much away.

"I was hoping you'd say that." "Why?"

"Because if you just agreed to go out with me because I put you on the spot the other night, then I'd have my work cut out for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said reaching over and placing his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers, "I'd have to find a way . . . umm . . . I'd have to work at making you like me. Now I don't have to do that."

"Oh, you still have to charm me," I teased. His laugh was carefree. "It'll be my pleasure." "So how long have you wanted to ask me out?"

"A while. But I didn't know how to go about it."

Wow. Just, wow. "This is kinda surreal. I've, er, liked you for a really long time. I've tried not to show it," I added quickly, feeling embarrassed, "but now that we are actually on a date and you've told me you like me, too, it just doesn't seem real."

As he held my hand, he began stroking it with his thumb. "That's just because this is new for us."

"I know." He said
us!

When we arrived at the restaurant, Don instructed me to sit tight while he got my door. He seemed giddy, but he was trying to play cool. It was adorable. He walked around and opened my door, helping me out and leading me into the restaurant.

We sat in a booth by the sushi bar, and both of us ordered sushi and fried rice. "So tell me about your family?" I asked as I opened up my chopsticks to dig into

my rice. "I know your grandmother lives next door, but that's about all I really know. Well that, and the fact that she loves bunko." I laughed.

"It's not so much the bunko as it is the wine," he said, chuckling. "Well, let's see… My parents work in information technology. They're divorced. I don't really live with either of them, just go back and forth visiting while they're in town because they travel a lot. I guess that's why I spend so much time at my grandma's house—she's my mom's mom, and she's always there. Except for bunko night, of course."

"Of course." I smiled.

We finished our rice as we chatted about our families.

"So what happened to your parents?" he asked softly. "I mean, I heard they died, but you never really talked about it while we were growing up, and I didn't ever feel comfortable asking you."

I told him the same story I was told as a kid, leaving out the new revelation about my mother.

"I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal. It was a long time ago. I've had a great life with Melissa." "That's good. Something you said, though, doesn't make sense."

"What's that?" I was truly curious what he could've picked up out of that short answer.

He shook his head. "Well, if Melissa was friends with your parents and Laurel's parents and it was a night for celebration, then why didn't Melissa go with them? I'm sure they could've found another babysitter."

Oh my. He was right! I'd heard the story a thousand times and never really thought about it that way. I guessed my parents didn't want to leave me with a stranger, but surely they had other, less important friends they could trust with me for one night. Hmmm . . . I'd definitely have to revisit this later.

"That's an interesting take on it. I've never really thought about that," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

Luckily, the sushi arrived, so I grabbed a piece of my California roll and put it in my mouth. Then remembering who I was eating in front of, I realized I should have

picked a place that didn't require me to put huge pieces of food in my mouth. It wasn't like I could cut my sushi in half. Ugh! I covered my mouth while I quickly chewed.

"You're very cute with your mouth full." He laughed.

I swallowed what I could and dropped my hand while I finished chewing the

rest.

"Yeah, they never seem to cut the pieces small enough for me."

"I can have the waitress send it back. I'm sure they won't mind cutting it into

smaller pieces."

"That won't be necessary." I smirked, and he laughed again.

We continued eating and talking. We talked about my birthday party, his trip to the beach, and memories we had of each other growing up.

"You know, you were the first girl I kissed," Don whispered as he flashed his eyes up, looking at me through his lashes.

"What are you talking about?" If I had ever kissed Don, I was sure I would've remembered.

"It was on my third birthday. My parents threw me a party at the zoo, and you were there. I kissed you on the cheek in front of the tiger exhibit." He chuckled.

"No wonder I don't remember that." I laughed. "I'm surprised that you do." "Well, I don't, actually. My grandma took a picture of me kissing you. She wrote

on the back that it was my first kiss. She still has the photo."

We both laughed and continued reminiscing. The conversation flowed casually, naturally. Not only did it feel normal, but it felt right.

After eating, he paid our bill, and we left, opening every door we encountered, leaving a hand on my back. I felt like I was floating. I liked him, and he liked me, and this date was perfect. He was attentive, funny, and charming. He said and did everything right.

We drove through town but not in the direction of my house. It was still early, but he didn't mention if he had something else planned.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, and the smile that was already on his face got a little bigger.

"I'd like to show you something. It's a place I like to go to when I need to think." He started driving up a hill. The road was winding, but he inclined with ease.

The trees grew right up to the narrow road on both sides with the leaves providing a canopy, blocking the sun. The wind had died down after its fierce peak this afternoon, leaving the evening peaceful.

He parked at the end of a dirt path near a field. Without saying anything, he got out, opened my door, took my hand, and walked me over to a huge oak tree near the edge of the hill. As we got closer, I noticed something over there.

A blanket was spread out over the flattest part of the grass under the shade of the tree with a wooden tray, a picnic basket, and more red roses. As I looked at the display, I gasped and brought my free hand to my throat to keep the lump down. I didn't know what to say. I was in complete and total shock.

Don pulled me over to the blanket. "Have a seat," he said, smiling.

"This is so . . ." I was at a loss for words, so I settled for the first word that popped into my head. "Unbelievable."

"I wanted to do something different, special, for our first date." Don fidgeted nervously at his admission, and I looked away, hiding my smile.

While I sat, he opened the basket, pulling out and placing on the tray a small platter of chocolate-covered strawberries and chocolate mints, a bottle of sparkling water, and two crystal glasses. After pouring us our drinks, he reached for the roses and shifted, sitting crossed legged beside me, our sides touching.

"These are for you," he whispered, repeating the same line from before. "Thank you." I gazed at the flowers as I took them from him. This was a smaller

bouquet than what he'd given to me earlier. I assumed these were half a dozen, until I counted them.

"Five?" I murmured.

"Not exactly. Um, I wanted to give you one rose for every year we've known each other. Since we've known each other seventeen years, I gave you seventeen roses." Don hesitated and smiled timidly. "I didn't want to show up at your house on our first date without
any
flowers, but I was worried that giving you all seventeen at the beginning would've been too much." He shrugged and looked away. I couldn't tell, but it almost seemed as if he were blushing.

I trembled when I realized how much thought he'd put into the flowers. "You really shouldn't have."

"Why? Don't you like flowers?" he asked, teasing me. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?" he asked, whispering again.

"I just meant that you didn't have to go through all this trouble . . . for me."

"I disagree," he said as he gently reached up and moved a strand of my hair out of my face.

I stared at him in awe. If there were any doubts about his feelings before, those doubts were now gone.

"Flowers are unique, don't you think?" he asked, gazing into my eyes.

"Why do you say that?" Flowers weren't really unique. People got flowers every day. Though, I absolutely loved the flowers he gave me.

"Because if you think about it, the sole purpose of a flower's life is to live and die for someone's enjoyment. These flowers are uniquely special because the sole purpose in their lives was to live and die for
your
enjoyment."

"I never thought of it that way," I breathed.

Don continued to stare into my eyes. There was more he wanted to say in that moment, but didn't. Instead, he laughed a small, nervous laugh and looked away. Then he reached over, picked up two strawberries, and handed me one.

After we each ate a few strawberries, he slipped his hand into mine. We both gazed at the horizon, and then I suddenly realized why he picked out this perfect spot.

"The sunset is beautiful," I murmured. And it was. From our angle, the sun was centered over the horizon and falling behind the distant hills. It wasn't hot in the shade and the wind was all but forgotten. I could have sat here with him, forever.

"It is." Not taking his eyes off the sun, he took our joined hands and put them into his lap. He then took his free hand and welded it over our hands, holding mine tightly between the two of his. "That's why I like to come up here. No matter what I may be going through, I can watch the day end and know that another is coming tomorrow. A new day brings with it new hope."

"Do you come here often?" I wondered, pulling him out of his reverie. "Hmmm . . . yes and no. I didn't used to, but I've found myself coming here a lot

lately."

"What have you been struggling with?" I whispered, not wanting to pry, but concerned.

"What?" He looked at me and was shocked that I'd asked that.

"You said you come here when you want to see the end of a day because each new day brings new hope. If you're coming here more often," I guessed, "then, you're seeking a lot of hope."

"Insightful," he breathed and looked down. "Why is that?"

"Because of you," he said, his voice barely audible.

My heart started racing, and the blood rushed up to my face. My breathing became heavy, and I wasn't sure how to control it, nor was I sure if I wanted to.

Don gazed at me with gentle eyes. "Season, I care about you a lot. And that . . . that scares me."

"Why?" I asked automatically because I was still reeling over how much he cared for me.

"Season . . ." He sighed and looked away. He didn't want to answer. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about his feelings.

"I'm sorry." I stared my feeble fingers, watching him squeeze them as if to gain strength. Then he moved his other hand to gently lift my chin until I met his gaze.