Page 34 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

I would have preferred she slap me than cheer me on.

Rolling out of bed, I look through my closet for something to wear. I really don't care how I look. I'm not out to make Dez happy. Yanking a red skater-style dress off a hanger, I stick my feet into matching flats. It's comfortable, basic, and I look decent enough to avoid anyone scrutinizing over how lackadaisical I'm being with this “momentous occasion”.

Stuffing my phone and keys into my purse, I leave the house and climb into my car. The weather is really warming up now—I keep my windows down, letting the wind toss my long hair everywhere.

I'm barely parked in the alley next to the florist shop before mom rolls a rack stacked with flowers outside. She waves at me. “Thanks again, Lori. I know it must feel weird to bring your own flowers to your engagement party.”

I give her a weak smile as I climb out of the car, loading the flowers carefully in my backseat. “Nah, it's not a big deal.” There are stranger things going on in my life than party decorum.

“Here, take down Mr. Hartford's number, in case something goes wrong on the way.”

I can't picture myself calling Jordan for help, but I glance at the info she's scribbled on the purchase form, enter his name and number in my phone. The three names in my new device are all clumped together—Mom, Jordan, Cadence. I didn't invite her to this party. I should have, but I didn't have the guts. “You're coming still?” I ask my mom.

“Of course! Soon as eleven-thirty hits, I'll drive straight over. Have a glass of champagne waiting for me,” she laughs.

“Okay. I'll see you then.”

My mom hesitates next to the empty flower cart. Thrusting forward, she embraces me with all her strength. I startle, before hugging her back, leaning into her warmth. There's comfort here that I haven't allowed myself to accept in far too long.

Leaning away, she says, “Lori, if something was wrong, youwouldtell me.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

She pats me on the shoulder. “Well, get going then.” Pushing the cart back into the store, she leaves me standing there looking as fragile as I feel.

There are no cars outside the Hartfords’ house when I arrive.It's still some hours until the party. Who would be here besides Dez or Jordan? Their cars are probably in the garage.Surveying the flowers in the backseat, I decide I'll carry in what I can then ask for help. One, or both, of them must be home.Maybe Dez spent the night in a jail cell again.I smile at the thought.

“Hello?” I call, pushing through the unlocked door. My arms are full of flowers, I can barely see over them as I scan the main room. “It's Lori. I'm here with the flowers.” No answer still. Setting the decorations on the round kitchen table, I add my purse to the pile while dusting pollen off my dress. Where are they?

The house looks different during the day, more welcoming. I stop to appreciate the beams of sunlight cascading through the bay window. But when I remember Jordan commanding me tositin my chair, I shiver. It's a warm little flutter that reaches from my chest to my knees.

Gliding my hand on the wooden railing, I climb the stairs one by one. I listen for movement in the home, trying to home in on where someone might be. It's not until I reach the second floor that I pick up the soft rustle of footsteps.

Peering through the spaces between the railing, I see shadows shifting over the floorboards. The source is in the only bedroom I've seen the inside of under this roof. The door—the one that I thought led to Dezmond's room—is cracked. Through the hinge area I see a shape go past.

I'm about to call out, but I see who's in the room, what they're doing, and my tongue tangles. Jordan is standing in the bedroom. I can see him through the half-open door. The gap is only a foot wide, but it's plenty.

He's shirtless. The sun enters his window, making water droplets on his muscles shimmer. He must have just stepped out of the shower. I follow the shape of his wide shoulders down to the indentation his oblique muscles take where they vanish into his black boxer-briefs.

Oh, yes … definitely just got out of the shower.

A hot breath presses between my lips. I place my palm over my mouth to muffle the sound. It's my first time seeing so much of Jordan's body. He wears fitted clothing, but that's not the same as naked skin.

His torso twists—now I can see his profile. Damp hair tickles his forehead. His chin looks smooth; he must have shaved. Jordan fills his chest with air, making the ribs along his side flex outward. Another shift and I'm staring right at his tight ass. It's hidden under cloth, but I can tell he's in amazing shape.He jogs,I remind myself.

I spot a flash of black and gray on his outer left calf. It's just below his knee, no bigger than a credit card.A rose tattoo?

“Is this payback?” he asks in a syrupy voice.

I grab the railing, so I don't fall down the stairs; air sucks into my throat too fast and hard, making me cough. Jordan chuckles, watching me with half-lidded curiosity from inside the bedroom. “Payback?” I manage to choke out.

“For me stumbling in onyounaked,” he says with a smirk. There's obvious heat in his eyes, but it's twisting with something less welcoming. “I guess you are capable of being quiet, sweet bird.”

“I wasn't spying on you. I was looking for you.”

“And you found me.” Jordan pushes the door the rest of the way open. The wind from the motion rolls over my face. “Stop squatting on the stairs. Come here.”

I don't move—in fact, I grip the railing harder. “You're not dressed. I … I can't.”

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