Page 51 of Pushing Daisy
CHAPTER 28
Sloan
Watching Daisy’s growth has been astounding. Less than a week ago, giving Daisy this cupcake with sentimental feelings likely would have sent her into a complete tailspin and led to some massive blowout between them. Did she mean to bring Daisy to tears? No. Far from it, actually. But she’d take that over yet another argument with her. So the tears are an oddly welcome friend.
Daisy takes her time eating the cupcake. Despite her efforts to hide it, Sloan notices the few stray tears breaking through her facade. She also notices how Daisy’s tongue slides over her thumb as she licks off the stray icing. Transfixed by the action, Sloan’s mind wanders, remembering what it felt like when they kissed. The feel of it along her lips, soft but eager as she licked before nibbling. Her mind continues to drift, wondering what that delicious tongue would feel like on other parts of her body. Wondering if other parts of Daisy’s body taste as sweet.
Her core heats, causing a growing slickness between her legs. Fucking Hecate, does Daisy even know what she’s doing to her? Sloan shifts, trying to ease the pulsing tension begging for release. She clears her throat, hoping to distract herself and draw Daisy’s attention. Daisy’s dreamy eyes meet hers, and this is it. This is officially the end of Sloan. With one look, Daisy has become the sun, her guiding light and source of all warmth.
“Fuck me,” she says under her breath
“Sorry?”
“What?”
“You said ‘fuck me,’ is something wrong?”
Shit. She didn’t mean to say that aloud. “Oh. No,” she says, hoping it comes across smoothly.
Daisy raises an eyebrow at her but lets the lie slide. “Do you have to get back to work?”
Sloan thinks over her schedule for the rest of the day. No meetings or site visits are planned. “No. Why? What do you have in mind?”
“We could head back to my place and talk more about our goals for the event. Do we want to give it an official name?”
Sloan’s heart leaps at the offer of spending more time together. “Yeah, sure,” she says, trying to play it cool and not like she was asked if she wanted a thousand wishes. “And absolutely. What do you think we should call it?”
Daisy stands, gathers up their garbage, and takes it to the bin before coming back to stand beside Sloan. The slightest movement would allow her to link their pinkies together—barely even qualifying as a hand hold, but just the thought of it has her pulse skipping a beat.
“Did you drive?” Daisy asks.
“No. Our office is a few blocks away, so I walked.”
“Cool. Well, I parked this way, so…” Daisy gestures up the road, indicating where they need to go. Sloan smiles, more to herself at the awkwardness of it, and follows Daisy’s lead. “By the way, I think we should call it Mixing Our Spirits,” Daisy adds.
“I love it!” She truly does. It’s a fun play on the supernatural community, the idea of it being an opportunity for the community to mix it up, and it has a fun ring to it. “It’s perfect!” Just like Daisy.
Stepping into Daisy’s home, Sloan is both surprised and awed. The space screams Daisy, much like the cupcake did. As she removes her shoes and steps into the house properly, she’s filled with a sense of warmth. Daisy’s home is lived-in but comfortable, inviting and fun. Usually, Sloan would find the mix-and-match of colors, textures, and overall style off-putting, but somehow Daisy makes it all work. Rather than clash, the pops of color bring life into the space. Her choice of mixing textures and fabrics is bold, like her, making the space feel like Daisy.
“Your home is gorgeous.”
Daisy blushes but waves off the compliment. “I’m sure it’s not nearly as nice as your place. It’s taken me years to collect all the different pieces, and it involved a lot of thrifting.”
“I mean it. It feels like you,” Sloan replies, leaning against the kitchen counter when Daisy stops to get them drinks. “However you did it, you did a wonderful job.”
“Thanks. You have to be creative when you don’t have tons of money.”
She may not have meant that as a jab, but it still hurts. She knows she’s lived a life of privilege. A very different life than Daisy, for sure. This community can be so brutal, and they didn’t rally around Daisy like they should have after everything with her family went down.
“If only money could buy happiness,” Sloan says.
“Well, it certainly makes things easier, that’s for sure.” Daisy places two glasses on the counter. “Anyway, would you like water, soda, a mixed drink?”
“Water is fine.”
Daisy nods, picking up a glass and turning to the dispenser in the fridge door to fill it up. “Are things not as great as they appear at the Wilks household?” she asks, her voice strained as if she is holding back.
“Depends on what you think great is. We are not, and have never been, a close family. There has always been a sense of competition with the Roses—well, more specifically, at the time, with Gladys, may the Goddess rest her soul. So there’s lots of expectations and rules to make us appear on the same level as them. Honestly, my mother is cold, and my father is strict. That doesn’t make for a loving or fun upbringing. Appearances are vastly different from reality.”
