Authors: Carlene Love Flores

Sidewalk Flower (54 page)

“Lucky, please stop.

You’re embarrassing me.”

She never blushed but knew her heated cheeks
meant exactly that.

Teasingly, he whispered, “What?

You?

Embarrassed?

By me?
I don’t believe it.”

“I just, there’s no way I can be all
those things.”

“Trust me; you are all of that and so
much more.”

He gave her hand a squeeze
and leaned in closer to her face.

She thought he might kiss her but he
didn’t.

“So—would you like to go
inside?

I’d like to show you my new
place,” she asked him.

Lucky cleared his throat and then said,
“I’d love to see it.”

“Okay, let me just say good night to
Gramma.”

She was so proud that she finally owned
something of her own.

After all the
years she’d spent on costly Southern California rent, it felt nice to know this
was hers.

And she still had plenty of
financial security with the money she’d saved over the years working with Sin
Pointe.

Not to mention the very generous
severance package Jaxon had set up for her through Vance.

She’d always be able to take care of herself
and Gramma.

For that she was proud.

After they’d said goodnight, she led
Lucky to the next lot up, one that sat just north of Gramma’s.

Her place was perched slightly higher up on
the hill and she could see the small town below.

The creek was a little out of the way but not
impossible to get to.

She could still
hear it at night if she left all her windows open.

“Okay, so this is it.

I know
,
it looks
pretty much the same as Gramma’s.”

It had the same two bedroom floor
plan.

So yes, the layout was an
identical match with the master bedroom on the east end and the guest on the
west.

But whereas Gramma’s house was
invigorated with just the right combination of eclectic and nostalgic antiques
and trinkets, Trista’s was much simpler.

The things that gave her home character were the wood-paneled walls, the
fluffy white and black rugs that covered her floors, and the simple wooden
window shutters that she, like Gramma, left open even into the night.

Her most cherished items were the vinyl
albums and their covers that adorned the guest room walls.

There were no dainty pink flowers rolled out
on delicate wall paper.

The room looked
like a vintage record shop and she loved spending time in there, sewing new
dresses and listening to music.

It was the last room that she showed Lucky.

He beamed as soon as she flipped on the
light.

“Wow, this is definitely my
favorite room.”

And you look
so good standing in it
.

Now
that she was sure of his feelings for her, the flood of attraction that had
practically drowned her of her senses the first night she’d met Lucky came
roaring back to life.

“Yeah,
me too.

It’s cool, right?”

She thought she might be blushing again as
she stood and took in every bit of his cool six feet and two inches, all
snuggled up inside his jeans and shirt.

She wanted to crawl inside those clothes too.

Lucky coughed and bit in on his bottom
lip.

“Very cool.

Very Trista.”

“Thanks,” she said trying to compose
herself.

“So is this the guest room?”

“Um, yeah technically, it is.”

“Oh, because I was just wondering where I
would stay if I were to have driven, say, two hours to come see you and then
stayed so long that…”

“That you were too tired to drive all the
way back home?”

She finished for him as
she stood there thankful he had finally hinted at wanting to stay with her as
badly as she wanted him to.

“Yeah, something kind of
like that.”

“Well, I mean, you could stay in here if
you wanted, but as you can see there’s no bed.”

“That’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy offer
to sleep on the floor and actually mean it.”

Lucky brought the fingertips of his left
hand to his brow.

“Oh boy, let’s not go
there please.”

“What?

I’m just sayin’.”

“I know.”

“So hey, it’s still relatively early, did
you want me to fix something to eat?

Are
you hungry?”

“I’m not starving, but yeah, I’d like to
see you in the kitchen.

That should be
something else.”

“What?

Oh, come on.

You are gonna take
that back.”

Lucky followed her from the record room
to the kitchen.

He sat at her breakfast
bar, on a tall stool that his legs still dangled from and watched her get to
work.

Literally, she felt his eyes
bearing down on her yellow eyelet dress.

* * * *

Bright,
strapless, summery and barefoot
.

It was all he could do not to pick up right where they’d left off in the
best shower he’d ever had in his life and still thought of daily.

But he was very interested in seeing her
cook, especially dressed like that.

He wondered what it would be like to have
her in his kitchen, cooking for him there.

Was she very attached to this new home of hers?

Could she leave it if he asked her?

If she couldn’t, he would come to her.

He was sure of that.

If she would have him.

He watched, mesmerized on his stool, as she
began pulling out ingredients and placing them on her tile counters.

His attention drifted from the
strawberries and unfamiliar green and red mottled skinned fruit she was
chopping and tossing into a glass bowl to the way her wayward curls spiraled
around her head and the way her arms, bent at the elbows, seemed to move in
symphony with her task at hand.

She was
so fluid, not embarrassed in her movements as she had hinted to before.

She was comfortable here with him.

She had changed.

In a good way.

Their entire conversation hadn’t centered on
her promising him sex, in the way it had the first days of their
friendship.

The time away had been
exactly what she needed.

And it was why
he tried so hard to be good now.

“What are you staring at?” she asked
while she stirred.

“Nothing.

I mean, you obviously.”

“So am I passing the test?”

“Um, yeah.

Oh, yeah.”

“Okay, so what do you think of what I’ve
made?”

He looked around the counter she was
perched at.

The glass dish was gone and
now he had no prop to aid him.

So much for his southern gentleman manners.

All he could think about was the sweet slow
way he wanted to make love to her.

* * * *

“I’m sorry; I really have no idea what
you were doing—with the food at least.”

“Hmm.”

She let her lashes drop closed to the very
tops of her cheeks, which were rosy.

So
he had been watching her.

It reminded
her of how passionate he had been the night they first kissed, and the night
she’d wanted desperately to make love in the hotel room in Oklahoma, and the
night they had spent wrapped up in each other on the beach, the shower.

So many almosts.

Could she trust that she was okay?

That she would not find some way to ruin what
could be for them?

The love and the
caring was there, it had just gotten lost, the same way she’d been for a
while.

But having had this time away from
all the things that pulled and tugged at her, the things she had hidden behind
for so many years, she now felt clearer, more directed.

“Well, I hope you like it.”

She flirted with him.

“What is it?” he asked as he inched
closer to her.

She smiled.

“Just a little strawberry and mango mousse.”

“That sounds really good.”

Five minutes later and she pulled out the
bowl of fruity mousse crème and spooned it into two glass dessert cups.

She put a spoon in each and headed away from
the kitchen.

Lucky followed.

“Okay, so tell me what you think.”

They sat down on her couch.

It was the middle of summer and she liked
that her skin didn’t stick to the soft, worn-in suede cushions.

She watched Lucky’s face to see his reaction.

“Wow, this is incredible.”

“Yeah, you like it?”

“Oh yeah.

You definitely know how to whip up a good
dessert.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I passed your
test.

Silly.”

“Well, you actually haven’t really passed
yet.”

“What? You said it was good.”

“I said incredible.

But it’s just a dessert.

I could probably make something like this.”

“Lucky, you are terrible!

Here, give me it back.

You can’t have the rest!”

They tumbled around a bit and she
actually
muscled
the rest of his mousse out of his
hand and pranced back to the kitchen with it.

She had surprised Lucky but hoped he could see the way her smile
stretched across her face.

She left Lucky waiting on the couch while
she stood in the kitchen and finished up her mousse then put the dish in the
sink.

She remained there, with his now
in her hands.

“Hey you, if you’d like the rest of this,
you owe me an apology.”

He stood up and pushed his rolled sleeves
from the forearms where they rested, up to his elbows as she watched with
anticipation.

The white cotton of this
western shirt made his skin look all the more tanned.

In record time, he joined her.

“I’m sorry.”

She toyed at the mousse with his spoon,
still flirting.

“For?”

“I’m thinking, hold on…”

She waited but when he looked at her
again it was with sincere regret in his eyes.

He blinked once. “I’m sorry for telling you I loved you and then
leaving.

Of all the things I’ve done in
my life, that’s the one I regret the most.”

“Oh.”

Her brows puckered together.

She
understood his regret.

Lucky bent down close to her face and
pressed his lips perfectly over hers.

She let the small glass dish that contained the remnants of his mousse
fall into the sink.

It thunked loudly
but didn’t break.

It wouldn’t have
mattered if it had.

She was so wrapped
up in Lucky’s kiss.

He broke away for a
moment.