"You're not exactly mister popularity either."
I held back a chuckle as I met her gaze. "I was here for the party." Yeah, right.
She pressed her lips together and out. One eyebrow arched. "No party in here, though. Looks like a guy potting plants on a Saturday night."
I swallowed my grin. "Root emergency."
She stared. "You just made that up."
"Fine, it could've waited. But the sooner…"
She leaned forward and buckled a delicate strap around her ankle. The world might've stopped then, and I really wouldn't have cared less.
Nothing could have waited, ever. I needed to be right there—with her, at that moment. The tops of her breasts barely visible inside her neckline, the strong line of her calf. That unbelievably tiny strap that was its own statement of confidence and…dear God, how long had it been? "The…I was here?"
"'But Why?’ Is the question." She settled back into the chair. "Supposedly here for a party, but no hint that you've been drinking—and so much revelry and debauchery nearby."
"Idiots keep hiding pot out here. Have to check a couple of times a night, every time there's a party," I grumbled. "And there’s always a party."
"Greenhouse guard duty?" Her lips curled and her eyebrows lifted. "So that's it. You dressed up like a wallflower to blend in."
Ha ha. "Cute. But I found someone who needed a friend." I held up the pot of cornflowers. "You were here too."
The smile that bloomed on her face was worth the awkward attempt at a joke. I caught my breath.
"Thought you said you don't talk to them."
"You could, though. No judgment."
"Sounds like a thin attempt to spy on me."
"Advanced recon. Not exactly spying."
She rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like my brother. Air Force tough guy, or so he wants everyone to believe."
"Flyboys are marshmallows."
She took another sip of water. "I'll tell him you said that." She twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Light glimmered on the remnants of her tears. "So which branch were you?"
"Marine Corps."
"Ah." She shifted in her seat, those long legs moved against each other again. An electric heat surged through my abdomen and stirred interest in…every part of my body.
I mashed dirt around the root ball, drizzling water into the pot.
She stood and moved closer. Hot and cold flashed across every inch of my skin. I wanted her touch… Instead, she placed her hand on the potted plant.
"He cheated, little flowers."
My stomach dropped lower; I sucked in a breath and held it.
"He's been cheating for a while, I was just too…caught up, I guess." She cupped one of the blooms. "I wanted to believe the lie."
I swallowed against something dry and lumpy in my throat. "I hear they like stories with happy endings."
"Do they?" Her fingers curled hair behind her ear. Glossy pink lips caught the light. "Well, luckily, mine has one. Because I have the self-respect to walk away."
The room buzzed in the silence of the moment, electric, waiting. My arms ached to hold her, but I didn't have permission…and the defiant tilt of her chin said she wasn't asking for sympathy. It occurred to me, then, that she was like my cornflowers—bold, vibrant, but trapped inside the wrong pot.
"I finally told him I just don’t want to be with someone like him." She shrugged one shoulder, but the glassy glint in her eyes gave her away. "Not anymore."
She gave me a small smile as she turned toward the flowers. Her fingers smoothed over the bag of soil, then tipped the smaller pot. She thumbed tiny blue petals as her eyes met mine. "What are they called?"
"Cornflowers."
"They're pretty." She threw me a side-eyed glance that made my heart trip, stumble and fall. "But it does seem like an odd hobby for a Marine."
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