Page 25 of Poinsettia Lane

“I would never!” Everly laughs and playfully smacks his hands down.

“I wanted to be able to grow some of the native Iraqi plants," Asim says. He looks at her almost warily, like she might bite him if he says the wrong thing, and it surprises her that her opinion matters to him. “There’s this pocket ecosystem that runs diagonally through Arizona, and it has a similar climate to parts of Iraq and southwest Asia. It makes it possible for me to grow some of the plants from there that I love.”

Her heart thuds in her chest with an accompanying ache. This is one of the most beautiful things Everly has ever heard. Asim found a way to combine two of his passions, his culture and his plants, in a very real way that allows him to enjoy both on a daily basis. Everly wants that in her life too. She wants to enjoy those things with him, and she wants to discover and enjoy her own passions in the same way.

Everly forces a hard swallow of longing.

“That’s beautiful, I’d love to see them sometime,” she says, and his low chuckle starts a tingling in her belly, but she can tell from the soft lines of his face that he’s pleased with her response.

“So.” Asim rises and claps his hands together. “Should we see what we’re working with out there?”

CHAPTER TEN

EVERLY LEADS ASIM through the kitchen, around the back living/dining area and out the massive glass double doors to the red brick patio overlooking a wide, grassy yard. She doesn’t have any shoes on yet, so she remains on the patio rug, curling her socked toes against the woven fibers, and points along the side of the house where the patio ends and the lawn begins. The yard is terraced there with a stone retaining wall intersecting the green grass, mortared stone stairs along one side leading down to the lower level.

“That’s the area I had in mind. I think putting some plants along the terrace instead of grass would be really nice, but you’re the plant person so if you have a better idea I’m all ears," Everly says.

“No, I agree," Asim says. “We can definitely make that work. I saw the plants out front on the driveway, do you have a wheelbarrow? I can haul them back here while you find some shoes.” His lips press together and his eyes crinkle up again, sparkling with amusement as they flick down to her fuzzy-socked feet.

“Yeah, yeah. I like to be cozy, okay?”

Everly scrunches her nose, only a touch embarrassed that not only are they fuzzy, but they also have cute fox faces on the ends with the nose right over the middle of her toes. She thinks they’re adorable. Obviously, it’s not something she normally wears in front of others, but it’s a little chilly out today so she wanted thicker socks for their yard work. Besides, she’s supposed to be herself and not hide anymore, right? This is her dailycontribution to that goal.

Everly points out the shed along the side of the house by the garage where Asim can hopefully find a wheelbarrow. She turns to go back inside, but looks back over her shoulder as she’s walking through the doors, one hand braced against the doorframe next to her shoulder to see him striding confidently across the lawn. Everly thinks she could probably stare at him all day long and never get bored, then realizes how creepy that is and vows to rein in the weirdo vibes.

She manages to dig some old tennis shoes out of the back of her closet, throws her hair into a quick braid, and by the time she’s outside on the patio again, Asim is already wheeling the last of the plants over. He’s taken his leather jacket off and draped it over a patio chair, and yep, his long sleeved henley is exactly what she hoped it would be. Clearly worn, but not in a ragged way, it stretches across his chest and hugs his shoulders, thin enough that she gets a hint at the muscles of his chest and back as he lowers the wheelbarrow and unloads the plants. There is no hinting at those biceps though; those are on full display and Everly is not at all unhappy about it.

Asim steps around the side of the patio, brows slightly furrowed, nudging the toe of his boot into the grass and bouncing his eyes between the house, the ground, and the sky. He asks her about the lighting, her sprinkler system, and overall what aesthetic she’s going for and what she wants to change. Everly basically wings it with her answers, as she doesn’t actually know any of those things, and thinks she does pretty well all things considered. Asim chatters about what plants work well together, and discusses how they’ll need to change her watering schedule for this area since the native plants won’t need nearly as much water as the grass currently does. Everly nods along and they set everything out approximately where it will be planted.

“Is there anything else you have that can fill it in a bit more? I think I want a fuller look rather than so much open space," Everly says, one finger tapping her chin as she skims her eyes over their arrangement.

“Of course, how about this,” Asim says, “I’ll pull up thegrass and we can see how far we get today. Once we have these in the ground with the proper space they’ll need to fully mature, we can take a second look and pick up a few more things to fill in where you want? I have some ideas in mind, but a couple of the ones I’m thinking of are still in the back greenhouse as they aren’t quite ready for sale yet. I wanted them to fill out a bit more first, but there may be a couple established enough to be planted in the next couple weeks.”

“That sounds great!”

“Let’s get to it.” Asim picks up a shovel with far more enthusiasm than Everly thinks the situation warrants. She’s assuming he found the shovel in the shed with the wheelbarrow, along with the other tools laid out on the patio, and truly he looks way too excited about the idea of digging.

“What should I do? How can I help?” Everly asks.

“I’ll start tearing up the turf here, and maybe you can drag it off to the side so it’s out of the way. We can decide what to do with it later.” She helps Asim move the plants back to the patio for now, but keeps them organized in an approximation of the way they were situated on the terrace.

Then they get to work. It’s impossible not to watch the way his arms flex and move with every strike of the shovel. As Asim cuts through the grass in neat squares and levers it up, his shirt starts to stick to the sweat forming along his back, and he pauses to push his sleeves up to his elbows. The tendons in his forearms are corded, making his tattoos look like they’re moving while he works. His tattoo sleeve isn’t the style of traditional Western artwork she had initially assumed it to be, but an intricate black and gray design of plants interspersed with some Arabic here and there. The writing is elegant, a beautiful script that intersects with the vines. She wants to ask him about it, but doesn't want to interrupt the methodical pace he has set, and now probably isn’t the time for that anyways. Reminding herself not to be nosy, she refocuses on the task at hand.

Everly drags and stacks the slabs of grass the best she can as Asim digs them up, but the muscles in her arms are burning sooner than she’d like to admit and she’squickly short of breath. She had no idea grass was so heavy. She takes her sweater off after the fourth one, thanking her earlier self for thinking to put a tank top on underneath it, and puffs out a breath of air as she bends down for the next.

A short time later, Everly pauses to swipe a strand of hair from her sticky face with her forearm, then turns back to where Asim is tossing the next strip of grass in her direction. He slows to a stop while reaching back down for the shovel and his eyes scan her face, then down her arms, before connecting with hers.

Asim straightens up and strides over to her, pulling a small towel out of his back pocket and unfolding it.

“You have some dirt,” he says as he raises the cloth to her cheekbone below her left eye. “Just here.” The towel is soft and dry against her skin as he gently brushes it off; she wishes it was his hands rasping along her skin, not the cloth. His eyes are bright and his skin glistens in the sun.

“Oh," her reply is breathy, and that one word seems to be all she knows how to say at the moment. Standing so close to him, she picks up his earthy scent again and forces herself not to lean in and sniff him.

Asim quirks a smile, then playfully tugs the end of her braid, and suddenly she is burning for a whole different reason. That one action has moved the fire from her arm muscles straight down to her core, and her eyes flare when she instinctively holds in what she absolutely will not acknowledge was about to be a whimper.

He tucks the towel back into his pocket and turns around, bends down to pick up the shovel again—apparently oblivious to her body’s reaction to him. Everly’s eyes dart around, landing on the tools, his jacket, the patio table, searching for a reprieve.

“Do you want a refresh on your water? I think I’ll grab some more ice for mine," she says.

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