Page 26 of Chasing Wildflowers
I turn, taking a step back, phone gripped tightly in my hand. “Kam, we’ve been over this.”
Her eyes soften, but her tone remains firm. “Lane, it’s one date. If you don’t like him, you never have to seehim again. He doesn’t live around here, which makes him safe. Hell, you might even have fun.”
I nervously gnaw at my bottom lip.
Can I do this? Can I open myself up to someone else? Even Temporarily?
I blow out a breath, giving in to both her and myself. “Fine. One date.”
She jumps up and down, clapping her hands. I just roll my eyes and type out another message.
Lane
Saturday. Pick me up at 7.
I wait for the panic to set in. It doesn’t come. Excitement unfurls instead, bright and reckless, then faint as a draft under a locked door, a whisper of warning.
I hit send anyway.
Eleven
Jameson
Picking Lane up for a date is at the top of the list of things I shouldnotbe doing. I’m aware of how fucked up it is, considering why I’m here and who she might be; but I can’t find it in me to give a fuck right now.
I bring my Bronco to a stop in front of her house and cut the engine. It’s a modest one-story house tucked behind neatly trimmed hedges. The white siding is accented by bold black trim. The bold red door gives it a pop of color. Plants line the railing of the porch, and two white rocking chairs sit side by side, giving it a warm, homey feel.
She’s made it her own. Her safe place.
Grabbing the bouquet of wildflowers from my passenger seat, the same flowers she has inked on her beautiful skin, I exit my truck and follow the walkway to her porch, my boots scraping across the worn stone. Iwrap my knuckles against the smooth red door twice before I hear her yell from the other side.
“I'm coming!”
The door swings open, and I have to bite back a groan. Lane is beautiful on a typical day. That natural kind of beauty, but tonight she is a pure temptation wrapped in lilac.
Her sundress hits mid-thigh, and she’s paired it with a pair of tan and black cowboy boots that make her tanned legs look incredible. Her typically wavy hair is done in soft curls, and she’s wearing the same red lipstick I’ve imagined myself smearing. Maybe tonight I’ll get the chance.
She chuckles, a low, melodic sound. “You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.” The smile she’s wearing damn near knocks me on my ass.
I wet my bottom lip. “Damn, Wildflower. You look amazing.”
Her cheeks flush, turning a pretty shade of pink. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she smirks, her eyes raking down my body.
I grin, basking in the heat of her gaze, and hold the flowers out. “These are for you. I took a wild guess and figured you’d prefer them over roses.”
“You guessed right.” She steps aside, letting me in. “I’m gonna put these in some water before we head out. Where are we going?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder as I follow behind her, taking in her space as I go.
“It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll like it.” I glance around the kitchen. It’s warm like the rest of thehouse. Cabinets painted a deep navy blue pop against the white tiled backdrop and the marble counters.
She grabs a vase from under the sink and fills it. “You’re not going to blindfold me or anything like that, are you?” she asks, raising one perfectly arched brow as she artfully arranges the flowers.
“Not unless you ask me to,” I murmur, voice low.
Lane stares at me for a beat, eyes glazed over, before clearing her throat. “Ready?”
I grin, gesturing with my hand. “After you.”
We pull into the parking lot of a huge one-story brick building with a backlit sign over the entrance. The wordsAxed Outare in bold letters.
