Page 48 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

I was just settling into pigeon pose when I heard the crunch of boots on the grass behind me.

"You're up early," came Eddie’s voice—easy and casual—followed by the quiet rustle of him sitting down cross-legged on the grass beside me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Didn’t peg you as the sun yoga type.”

He smirked and eased into the same stretch I was in with way more grace than I expected. “Darlin, no one pegs me.” Ignoring me choking on air, he continued, “My sister runs a horse sanctuary out in Oklahoma. She teaches yoga to the staff, which helps alleviate the stiffness caused by riding and mucking out stalls. I go sometimes when my back’s tight or when I need to get my head on straight.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded, settling into the stretch like it was second nature. “Yep, it works.”

We moved in silence for a while, side by side on the grass, surrounded by trees and the hum of morning insects. It was peaceful, almost meditative. Until Eddie glanced over at me with that look that said I’ve got something to say, and it’s going to make you blush.

“I was doing a perimeter check early this morning,” he said, casually wiping his palms on his thighs.

I stayed quiet and cautious. “Yeah?”

“I heard something, some noises coming from the house. I thought maybe you were being attacked or needed help or something.”

My stomach dropped, the dread crawling in.

He smirked. “Got closer and realized real fast that wasn’t the kind of help you needed.”

Heat flooded my face instantly, and I stared at the grass like it might swallow me whole.

“I didn’t look,” he added, hands raised in mock innocence. “Just turned right the hell around.”

“God,” I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “You would be the one to hear.”

He bumped my shoulder with his. “Relax, I’m glad. Webb’s a good man. He deserves someone who makes him sound like that.”

I snorted and shook my head. “He’s amazing and not really my usual type.”

That caught his attention. “No?”

I could already see the gears turning in his head.

“Let me guess,” he began, his face breaking out in a huge grin. “You go for the pretty-boy types. Clean-cut with a military fade, who wear button-down shirts and khaki pants.”

“Basically,” I shrugged. “Teachers, paramedics, and accountants mainly. Guys who look like they’d file their taxes early.”

Eddie laughed, tipping his head back. “And now here you are, sleeping with a guy covered in tattoos, who has gauges and wears boots that could kill a man.”

I grinned. “Yeah, and it all works on him. Weird, right?”

He gave me a pointed look. “You’ve got tattoos.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I count five piercings in your ears.”

“Six,” I corrected, smiling as I twisted to show one hidden behind a curl. “There’s a sneaky one.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re just as chaotic.”

“Exactly. I never claimed to make sense.”

We sat there, the sun rising higher, with the golden light dappling the grass between us.

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