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I figure if a girl wants to be a legend, she should go ahead and be one. Calamity Jane
“It was delicious.” I stand with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. “Let’s do this again next t-t-t . . .” My lips thin and I sigh, trying not to beat myself up. “When Dad golfs next.” She doesn’t react. She knows me well enough to know how much the stutter pisses me off. Instead, she carries on like she didn’t notice, even though I know she did. How could you not?
“Any pretty girls on that farm?” She smiles into my neck. Except that. I don’t know if I can do that for them. “Mom.” My tone is warning, but playful. “Griffy, it’s the grandbaby-rabies. I’m sick. I can’t help it.” I shake my head with a small smile. “Seek treatment, Mom.”
She hits me with a terse smile. And then she’s gone. Leaving me with the light scent of sweet roses that I still remember from two years ago. The one I haven’t forgotten to this day.
Like the simplest things in life bring her pleasure. It makes me desperate to know what else is on that list. What else could bring her happiness like what’s flowing off her right now? Because, in this moment, I think I’d do anything to check those things off for her.
My cheek pinches with a lopsided smile. And then I blurt out something I should not. “It’s because your name starts with an n. Just makes scolding you that much easier.” I laugh it off, until she turns to me and says smoothly, “I think you just like saying my name.” I swallow because I am so fucked where Nadia Dalca is concerned. Yes, Wildflower. I like saying your name.
Nadia nods, looking strong and capable with her hands propped on the swell of her hips. I try hard not to let my eyes trail down over the curve of her ass. But I fail fucking miserably. I’ve never considered scrubs to be sexy, but on Nadia, it’s like a whole new ball game. A man would have to be blind to not appreciate her soft curves and long limbs. It’s almost criminal.
Each coffee is going to take like ten minutes to make, which means I’m going to be stuck here watching Nadia bend herself over the counter like she’s fucking asking for it.
I don’t need coffee. I need a cold shower.
And then, in all his excitement, the dog pees at my dad’s feet, yellow liquid spraying all over the floor. I drop my face into my hands and groan, but my dad’s boisterous laugh fills the room. “Joan, why don’t you get this excited to see me anymore?”
His voice is quiet, but that doesn’t matter when we’re pressed up against each other like this. I can feel him breathing, I can feel his heart beating. If he’s the ocean, I just want to ride the waves.
That girl looked up in my eyes and gave me the perfect opportunity to tell her I’m fucking obsessed with her. And I didn’t take it. I’m a coward.
Some days, I ache for a man who sees more than the way I look on the outside. A man invested enough to peel back all the layers. But most of them stop the chase as soon as they peel back my clothes. Like that’s the final destination for them with a girl like me. I want more.
From where I was repairing a spot on the roof, I watched her let herself into the back field, the one full of wildflowers. Pinks, yellows, purples, every shade of green imaginable. I watched her prop a hand over her brow and scan the horizon. Fucking wildflowers as far as the eye can see. I swear I forgot how to breathe for a few minutes as I watched her, all long limbs and flowing golden hair.
The man has ruined an entire spice for me. I’ll never smell it or taste it without thinking of him. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop thinking about him.
He looks at me like he cares an awful lot. And that is absolutely terrifying.
She shines so bright, so golden. She deserves someone to match. I’m wondering if the beauty is in the contrast. Nothing makes gold sparkle quite like black. Poetic, you head case.
I unzip the flap and burst from my tent, feeling like I need space. Air. Perspective. I turn away from Nadia’s tent, but then I face the field of wildflowers. Which is no better. She’s everywhere.
“But I’m ready for dessert when you are, Wildflower.”
Mira brushes past me, doing a poor job of smothering the smile that’s playing across her face. She puts a good chunk of space between us before she mutters just loud enough for me to hear, “My God, Little Dalca. I daresay that man has it bad for you.” And all I can think is good. Now we can have it bad for each other. I hope he’s as fucked up over me as I am over him.
I nod and turn away, because if I don’t, I will seriously fucking throw myself at the guy, climb him, tackle him to the ground, and have my way with him right here and now. Save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that.
But I make love to her all day long anyway. And later, while she sleeps, I pick up her journal and cross that off her to-do list for her.
Griffin shrugs. “I’m not going to speak for Nadia.” Stefan runs a hand through his hair like we just announced the worst news of his life. “Seriously? She’s fourteen years younger than you.” Griffin’s eyes flit to mine again. The look he gives me is like he’s about to throw caution to the wind, jump off a fucking cliff. And he doesn’t disappoint when he says, “Yeah. Well. I’m in love with her anyway.”
She presses a tender kiss to my lips, so many emotions flooding out between us. Spilling out of me, drowning my system. Her forehead tilts against mine, tips of our noses brushing together. “Meet you at the top, Sinclaire?” My fingers pulse around her ribs, and I know that this is the moment where I let her go. It makes me nauseous. But I choke out the words she needs to hear anyway. “Meet you at the top, Wildflower.”
She shrugs. “I think in some cases, age is just a way to measure the number of years you spent without the person meant for you.” Fuck. That’s poetic.
