Page 23 of Sweet
“Clearly.” She poked his bicep and tried not to imagine her brother in a fight with Spider. The likely outcome would be laughably quick.
“Daisy!” her mom called. “We’re completely leaving you out of this. Have you thought about whether you want to be near the beach, mija?” Her mom was glowing with the possibilities. “The weather is always so nice if you’re by the coast, and I think it would be so fun, don’t you think?”
Her Aunt Rosa countered. “But if she’s spending all her time at the beach, is she going to be studying? I don’t think it should factor in. Whichever school has the best program for what she wants to study—Daisy, what are you thinking about that?”
“Uh…” She hated this conversation. “I’m thinking more and more about business actually.”
Her aunt and her mother clearly didn’t love that idea.
“What about medicine?” Rosa asked. “You’ve always had such a calm presence and you do all those knitting things and the fancy pastries. You’re good with your hands; I bet you’d make an excellent surgeon.”
Her mother loved that. “Oh, I’ve never even thought about that, Rose, but you’re right. She spends so much time making all those little cakes.”
“They’re called petits fours,” Daisy tried to interject. “Or mignardises. They’re a really advanced pastry. People in culinary school—”
“So if you can do those, then surgery— Oh!” Her mother turned to Rosa again. “And the sewing! Daisy makes all those beautiful clothes, and surgeons have to sew, right? Like, really fine stitching?”
“Plastic surgery.” Rosa put a hand over her heart. “She could work on one of those ships that does reconstructive surgery for children in poor countries.” Rosa turned to her. “Daisy, you’d be so good at that.”
Maybe she should just give up. They were right, she could probably make it through medical school, and helping kids was good, right? I mean, at the bakery she was just helping people get through the day with coffee and pie. Surgery for poor children was probably more important than coffee and pie.
So why did it make her feel so depressed?
She headedover to Spider’s, feeling significantly deflated. She had one more week to finish her transfer applications for the following fall semester, and she was dragging her feet. She’d filled most of them out, but she hadn’t submitted them, which was by far the easiest step.
He opened the door, smelling like clean linen and some kind of aftershave that made her think of fresh air and the mountains. She wanted to fall into his chest and sniff him like a puppy, but that would be weird.
“Hey!” He lifted her chin, and she had to look away from the spot on his chest where she wanted to bury her nose. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” She took off her purse and jacket and handed them to him. “I just came from Sunday dinner with everyone, so—”
“Oh damn.” He frowned. “You tired? We can hang out another time.”
“No.” She lifted her face, hoping he would kiss her. “I’m glad I’m here.”
“Good.” His smile was slow and sweet. “You smell like chile verde.”
She let her head fall back. She’d changed her clothes, but there was no way to escape the smell of roasted chiles in her hair. “Oh my God. That’s what I get for volunteering in the kitchen. The perfume of pork and green chiles.”
Spider laughed and buried his face in her neck, kissing her just below her ear. “Smells good, princesa.”
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. She braced her hand on his shoulder and her fingers dug in when his kisses slowly trailed up her neck, along the line of her chin, until he captured her mouth.
Damn, he was really good at this.
There was nothing awkward about kissing Spider. The boys she’d kissed before? Clearly rank amateurs compared to this man. He seemed to know exactly what angle to tilt her head and just how deep to make a kiss. It never felt gross or invasive. She just wanted more.
It was too soon when he pulled away and cleared his throat. “Okay, we better stop.”
Or not. Daisy opened her eyes. They couldnotstop. That would be okay too.
“What do you think of my place?”
Daisy hadn’t even noticed, but now she looked around. “Spider! You got a chair.” She grinned. “This looks great.”
He must have been busy that week, because he’d not only gotten a chair, he’d actually put together a small dining set with a card table and two matching chairs. It was a little scuffed on the legs, but he’d also found a bright yellow cloth to cover it, and a clutch of white daisies sat in a clear glass.
“You got my flowers.” Warmth filled her chest. “That’s so…” Sweet? Adorable. He probably wouldn’t appreciate those words. “…cool. So cool.” She grabbed his hand.
