Page 52 of Blossoms of the Heart
She had changed. Of course she would. I was thinking of an inexperienced eighteen-year-old who was shy and under her mother’s thumb.
The woman who stood before me moved with confidence, sure of herself, sure of her beauty. Sure she had my attention.
“How long do you think it’ll take to translate?” I pushed past the lump in my throat.
“Not sure. Could take a while. I have to look up some of the characters and the meanings they’ve carried during the time our guy lived.”
She scanned the journals.
This didn’t feel natural. We weren’t these people who talked business, and it was awkward.
She found what she was looking for and took down a few volumes. Her moving in that skirt, bending over slightly to put the journals on the desk, sent my eyes straight back to her ass.
I got lost staring, and lost thinking about what she must do to work out. That ass came from running and climbing. Plenty of squats.
“Tai.” She whirled around and shot me a glare with her perfect lips parted. It was the way she said my name, like she’d said something else before.
I didn’t hear a thing. Same thing happened yesterday.
“Princess.”
“Where you looking at my ass? Again?”
Caught, again.
Fuck it. What did I have to lose? This was Phoebe, I’d thought about her for years, and her she was. Not a dream or a fantasy. She was the real live version. Here, inches away from me, all ass and tits.
I stepped closer and smiled.
“Yes.” Best to be honest.
She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“We’re working together. Can’t you take anything seriously? Lieutenant.”
I liked the way she saidlieutenant.I loved it yesterday and it seemed to carry more weight today.
“Call me that again, baby.”
“Call you what?” she toyed with me.
I stepped closer and closer. She backed away, taking a step back with each one I took towards her.
When she came in contact with the wall and saw there was nowhere else to go, she winced.
I stepped right into her personal space and rested my hands on the wall on either side of her, blocking her escape.
And there it was… the look.
I had to take the moment to absorb it, commit it to memory, and check that I really was seeing it.
Yes it was there, sparking before me like sunlight. Definitely not a figment of my imagination.
For eleven years I stored her away in the back of my memory. The enchantment of this woman who could reach a place inside me where no one else could.
I would have never admitted this to anyone in my younger days, but I used to live for that look. Live for seeing Phoebe every summer and having her look at me like I was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life. Me, the rebel who everyone thought was bad news with my tattoos and badass attitude. Me, the rebel who used to get in all sorts of shit both in Japan and back home in LA.
Reckless, out of control, and wild. That was me.
