Page 45 of Fragile Sanctuary

I scanned the pot between her legs. It was deep indigo blue. Not the brightest of the bunch, but its variegated tones were still more than I was used to. Everything in my life was about necessity and nothing more. No extra comforts or luxuries. Maybe that was part of my self-inflicted punishment.

Even knowing all of that, I couldn’t find it in me to reject Rhodes’ offer, couldn’t quash the hope in her eyes. “You want me to help you pot flowers.”

She smiled full-out again, that punch of light, life, and beauty. “Yes. For your front porch.”

I stiffened. “It’s your pot. Your flowers.”

“Ever heard of a gift, Anson?”

I glared at her. “I don’t need any gifts.”

Rhodes rolled her eyes. “It’s flowers, not a diamond tennis bracelet. I’ve got more of these than I know what to do with.”

I didn’t respond, simply kept staring, caught in the battle between risk and reward.

“Stop being such a grump and sit down. It’ll take five minutes.”

Something about the exasperation in her tone had me obeying. I lowered myself to the patchy grass, but I made a fatal error.

I was too close.

Close enough to smell the mix of sunscreen with the hint of sweet peas. I knew what those flowers looked like because they’d been one of my mother’s favorites. But they weren’t anywhere in the bunch surrounding us. That meant it was Rhodes’ perfume, or worse, her body lotion. Just thinking about her working that into her legs, her arms, her—I shoved the thoughts from my head as I shifted uncomfortably.

A snort sounded beside me, and I jerked my head up.

Rhodes was full-on grinning. “You look like you’re about to be tortured, not plant a few flowers.”

“I do not,” I grumbled.

She grabbed the cell phone lying next to her in the grass, and the shutter sounded. “A picture is worth a thousand words.” She showed me the screen.

I winced. I looked like I’d been sucking on a lemon.Jesus.I needed to get a grip. “It’s been a long day,” I defended.

“Mm-hmm,” Rhodes hummed, not sounding at all convinced. “Maybe these poppies will put you in a better mood. They’re one of my favorites.”

I glanced at the plastic pots next to her, taking in the riot of colors. “They’re pink.”

Rhodes raised her brows in a challenge. “Not man enough for a little pink on your front porch?”

My back teeth ground together. “Let’s just pot them already.”

The dog moseyed over and dropped the trowel next to me as if in agreement.

“Good job, Biscuit,” Rhodes praised, giving him a treat.

“Biscuit?” I asked.

“He’s got a penchant for them.”

“Shouldn’t be giving him human food.”

Rhodes sent the dog a sidelong look. “You hear that, Biscuit? He doesn’t think I should give you any bacon.”

I swore the damn dog understood every single word. His head swiveled around, and he glared at me with accusing eyes.

“Throw me under the bus, why don’t you?”

A soft chuckle escaped Rhodes. She had so many different kinds of laughs, and I was starting to get addicted to finding each new one. Her hazel eyes shone as they connected with mine. “It’s only fair that Biscuit knows who he’s dealing with.”

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