Page 15 of Veiled in Brick

“I could tell—where to?”

I kicked up my feet on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles.

“Lexington.”

“Kentucky?”

“Far drive, I know,” he agreed with my unstated sentiment. “Work trip for the week; easier to drive than fly.” I hummed some sort of acknowledgement to what he had said, and he noted, “I have the whole day to get there. Just about to pass Salem now.”

“Is that right?

“Mhm.”

The line fell silent. Too silent. And just when I began to internally question the lack of noise, a loud knock sounded at the door.

I made my way to stand, muttering, “One second,” into the phone and twisting the speaker to rest against my chest.

The hinges creaked as I swung the door open, and James’ smiling face beamed down at me. He held his phone up and tapped the end call button with his thumb. I took in his appearance none too subtly, starting with his usual brown boots. My eyes dragged over his dark jeans. The black t-shirt he had chosen was loose—bunched at his hips, but I could still tell that it was stretched taut over his chest underneath his unzipped coat. His arms were crossed now, his head—topped with a grey beanie—was tilted to the side, and his eyebrows were raised as if to ask, ‘Are you finished?’

“Am I a piece of meat?” he asked.

I smiled, stowing Claire’s phone in my jeans’ pocket. “Uh huh. What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask Luke if he wanted to get coffee, but it sounded like you have a pressing issue that needed to be solved.”

“Do I?”

“Uh huh—let me see them.”

I chortled and gestured to my breasts grandly. “The girls? You gave them plenty of attention last night, but I’m not complaining—”

“The flowers, Zoey,” he laughed. “Step aside, let’s see the damage.”

I obliged, muttering, “Fine, fine.”

The moment that I moved to allow him in, James let out a deep whistle.

He pushed the door shut behind him and quipped, “Damn. They’ve got baby’s breath in there and everything.”

“The fuck is baby’s breath?” I asked with a cringe.

“The little white ones,” he told me as he approached the table, pointing at the tiny buds that were scattered amongst the larger red ones. He leaned down and sniffed at them appreciatively, sarcastically stating, “Oh, yeah. Quality arrangement. You don’t know who sent these?”

I shrugged. “Someone must have gotten the address wrong.” James touched one of the red petals gently, and I offered with a raised brow, “You wanna take them off my hands? They’re all yours.”

“You’re not gonna keep them?”

James thrust his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side.

“I was five minutes away from chucking them in the garbage,” I admitted.

He laughed. “Wow. As much as I would love to bring them to my hotel in Lexington, I think I’m gonna pass. But, I did have a thought.”

“A thought?”

“Mhm,” he returned, “you said you’re free today?”

“Laundry,” I reminded him.

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