Page 23 of Poinsettia Lane

CHAPTER NINE

TOWARD THE END of the week, Everly deludes herself into believing she is mostly back to normal with fewer distracting thoughts, or at least she has gotten better at dismissing them when they do come up. Which happens literally every morning, when she comes down the stairs and sees the poinsettias in the foyer, and every night when she gets home from work and sees them on the porch steps. Truthfully, she’s impressed she has managed to keep them alive this long. She’s put more effort into it than she has anything in her life outside of work, and she’s finally at a point where she can admit to herself that she wants to impress Asim.

Hopefully it means she isn’t completely incompetent in the world of plants, maybe she has a chance of succeeding at this whole re-landscaping thing after all.

Everly tries her best to sit still while she waits, limiting her movements to tapping her toes rather than full on pacing; landscaping day one is here and she can’t wait for Asim to arrive. The nervousness is a given, at this point she’s used to the constant fidgeting and hint of nausea in her stomach, but the excitement thrumming through her veins is a welcome surprise.

She’s also reciting her affirmation for the week on a loop in her head: “I can do more than I give myself credit for.” Everly alternates this with quizzing herself while she waits, asking herself “what would Carrie say” in response to the intrusive thoughts as she sits in anticipation of his arrival, attempting to get her roiling emotions under control. She stares through the windowabove the kitchen sink, willing him to appear at the end of her driveway. Everly truly believes that waiting is the worst activity in the world.

What feels like days later, she hears him before she sees him, and Everly’s jaw drops open when Asim turns into her driveway. He’s riding a motorcycle, but it’s not like any motorcycle she’s seen before. For one thing, it’s cream colored with brown leather seats and handles, and that alone is enough to catch the eye. As he revs closer up the driveway she admires the vintage look; sleek, curved lines and one big, round headlight front and center.

It’spretty.

Asim pulls around the circle and swiftly parks in front of the garage, dropping both feet to the ground and kicking down the stand with one booted foot.

Everly nearly sprints to the front door, flinging it open and tripping outside onto the porch before he’s even turned his bike off. Standing this close, she can feel the rumble of it in her sternum, and it sends her pulse skyrocketing. Everly has little control over herself right now, eyes glued to the view in front of her as it feels like the world around her ebbs into slow motion.

She watches with rapt attention as Asim’s hands rise to his helmet and pull it off. He rakes one hand through his thick, dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead as he swings off the bike and sets his helmet on the seat. He hasn’t noticed Everly yet, and her body is rigid, stuck in place, feet cemented to the porch steps as she watches him.

Asim’s eyes skim over the plants that are still lined up along the edge of the driveway before sweeping in her direction. As soon as those mesmerizing green eyes land on hers, Everly’s insides melt even as her skin feels strung tight. The contrasting sensations are nearly overwhelming, but his smile sends all the anxious thoughts straight out of her head.

It sends every other thought out of her head too.

It’s then that her eyes register what he’s wearing. Asim strides toward her in a sexy-as-hell leather jacket, ripped and worn jeans, heavy work boots, and a t-shirt that she hopes is as tight as the glimpse she sees of it stretched across his chest hints at. He’s pulled work gloves outfrom somewhere and sticks them in his pocket.

Everly, on the other hand, is not at all dressed for yard work, despite scouring the back of her closet for appropriate options. She’s wearing comfy black yoga pants that cling to her lower body with thick fuzzy socks pulled up over her ankles, a loose off the shoulder light green sweater giving just a hint of creamy skin, and her hair is down in wavy curls. Asim stops short of the steps, putting her slightly above him, then eyes the pair of poinsettias she has managed to keep alive on either side of her.

“Hello again," he says, lips curving into a smile as he looks up at her.

Everly clears her throat, trying to find her voice. Asim’s presence is like a wave, taking over and sucking her under so she loses track of which direction she’s supposed to be going.

“Hi Asim, thanks for coming.” Everly isso proudof that response. I mean, look at her being all adult and mature and keeping it together when really all she wants to do is throw herself at him like a deranged puppy.

He flashes her a crooked smile like he knows what she’s thinking. “I’m surprised these are still here.” He angles his chin toward the poinsettias, and her chest blooms with pride.

He noticed.

“Honestly, me too.” Everly chuckles at his questioning look, and gestures for him to follow her inside. “I’ve been trying my best to keep them alive. I don’t know what else to do with them, so I guess I have a house full of red plants now.”

Everly offers him a seat in the kitchen and a glass of water, intending to get right down to business even though she’s not entirely sure where to start with this landscaping project. She assumes they need to make a plan and talk it out first.

It’s pretty much her go-to process for anything and everything.

“You don’t have to keep all of them," Asim says, and it takes Everly a second to realize he’s still talking about the poinsettias.

“What else would I do with them?” she asks.

“Most people throw them out after the holidays," he tells her, though he doesn’t look entirely happy to be saying it. Everly scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t like the idea of throwing them away. They’re still beautiful, and alive. It seems like such a waste.”

“Maybe you could do something else with them. You could share them with friends or family," Asim speculates, but then notices how her body stiffens in response to that comment. Everly can’t help it; any mention of her family has always brought heartache and loss in the past, and even though she’s working on her relationship with Addison, there is no changing her parents’ fate.

“What is it?” Asim asks, his accent heavy.

“It’s nothing.” Everly tries her best to relax and wave off his concern. “I assumed you knew, I swear everyone else in town does, but I’m not exactly close with my sister and, well, my parents passed away about eight years ago now.”

“Everly,” his face is carved with devastation, and he waits for her to look directly up at him. She does eventually, and although sad, his eyes are kind, with not a hint of pity. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you probably get that a lot, and I feel awful for bringing it up. I never would have suggested giving them to your family if I had known.”

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