Greenhouse Guard Duty…
“You’re not exactly mister popularity either.”

I held back a chuckle as I met her gaze. “I was here for the party.” Yeah, right.

She pressed her lips together and out. One eyebrow arched. “No party in here, though. Looks like a guy potting plants on a Saturday night.”

I swallowed my grin. “Root emergency.”

She stared. “You just made that up.”

“Fine, it could’ve waited. But the sooner…”

She leaned forward and buckled a delicate strap around her ankle. The world might’ve stopped then, and I really wouldn’t have cared less.

Nothing could have waited, ever. I needed to be right there—with her, at that moment. The tops of her breasts barely visible inside her neckline, the strong line of her calf. That unbelievably tiny strap that was its own statement of confidence and…dear God, how long had it been? “The…I was here?”

“‘But Why?’ Is the question.” She settled back into the chair. “Supposedly here for a party, but no hint that you’ve been drinking—and so much revelry and debauchery nearby.”

“Idiots keep hiding pot out here. Have to check a couple of times a night, every time there’s a party,” I grumbled. “And there’s always a party.”

“Greenhouse guard duty?” Her lips curled and her eyebrows lifted. “So that’s it. You dressed up like a wallflower to blend in.”

Ha ha. “Cute. But I found someone who needed a friend.” I held up the pot of cornflowers. “You were here too.”

The smile that bloomed on her face was worth the awkward attempt at a joke. I caught my breath.

“Thought you said you don’t talk to them.”

“You could, though. No judgment.”

“Sounds like a thin attempt to spy on me.”

“Advanced recon. Not exactly spying.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like my brother. Air Force tough guy, or so he wants everyone to believe.”

“Flyboys are marshmallows.”

She took another sip of water. “I’ll tell him you said that.” She twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Light glimmered on the remnants of her tears. “So which branch were you?” 

“Marine Corps.”

“Ah.” She shifted in her seat, those long legs moved against each other again. An electric heat surged through my abdomen and stirred interest in…every part of my body.

I mashed dirt around the root ball, drizzling water into the pot.

She stood and moved closer. Hot and cold flashed across every inch of my skin. I wanted her touch… Instead, she placed her hand on the potted plant.

“He cheated, little flowers.”

My stomach dropped lower; I sucked in a breath and held it. 

“He’s been cheating for a while, I was just too…caught up, I guess.” She cupped one of the blooms. “I wanted to believe the lie.”

I swallowed against something dry and lumpy in my throat. “I hear they like stories with happy endings.”

“Do they?” Her fingers curled hair behind her ear. Glossy pink lips caught the light. “Well, luckily, mine has one. Because I have the self-respect to walk away.”

The room buzzed in the silence of the moment, electric, waiting. My arms ached to hold her, but I didn’t have permission…and the defiant tilt of her chin said she wasn’t asking for sympathy. It occurred to me, then, that she was like my cornflowers—bold, vibrant, but trapped inside the wrong pot. 

“I finally told him I just don’t want to be with someone like him.” She shrugged one shoulder, but the glassy glint in her eyes gave her away. “Not anymore.”

She gave me a small smile as she turned toward the flowers. Her fingers smoothed over the bag of soil, then tipped the smaller pot. She thumbed tiny blue petals as her eyes met mine. “What are they called?”

“Cornflowers.”

“They’re pretty.” She threw me a side-eyed glance that made my heart trip, stumble and fall. “But it does seem like an odd hobby for a Marine.”

 

Ella’s Favor
“I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

I don’t know what came over me, but there was just something about him, his quiet confidence. The proud way his shoulders squared when he spoke of his time in the Marines—not that he said much.

Heat hovered in the air, and I was positive I was as red as his potted sweetshrubs.

Those grey-blue eyes turned to look at me, and I became aware of every muscle in my body—as I fought to keep still. His brow pinched into a small frown. “Depends.”

I blinked and took another sip of my water. I’d seen enough of large muscles and sculpted physiques. He was leaner than most of the football squad Ash hung out with, but still powerful-looking. And yet, the gentle way he handled the bundle of flowers with their “root emergency” made him seem…different.

My chest warmed just to look at him. The urge to touch him, kiss him buzzed through me. I needed it in a way that I shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Except…I told Ash to go to hell when I saw him—my stomach squeezed and tumbled over—with her.

Maybe I should. Maybe I could, for the first time in more than two years. “On what?”

His eyes narrowed and he moved closer. The heat from my chest hit my veins. It sparked and popped, like it could catch fire. Like I could.

“Do I get to kiss you back?”

Dear God, yes. I managed to keep the commentary locked inside even as I could’ve sworn the room temperature spiked. He ducked his head, messy strands of dark hair shifting over his forehead. Those eyes focused, intense…I burned inside his look.

“If you want to,” I breathed as I slid my hand over the back of his neck. Soft pieces of hair curled between my fingers. My heels gave me the bit of height I needed to reach him.

His eyes slipped closed as his breath hitched. If there was a moment a person could choose to fall in love, that would have been mine—with him. So proud and strong. Lips parted, eyes closed, and waiting for my kiss.

 

Valentine’s Day Charity Flag Football Game
The skin of my arm sang where he touched me. Even though I’d known he’d be here and tried to prepare myself, as soon as I saw him again, the world stopped. Gravity shifted, pulling at my limbs even as a whirling tempest brewed inside.

And I’m decidedly not over him. I mentally groaned at the unfairness of it all.

For months, I’d been perfecting the art of not-thinking about Maddox McBride. It started with not-thinking about how we met, our mouths reckless, my hands clinging to his shoulders, the feel of his arms around my waist…Or how everything inside my flesh moved without prior consent of my brain.

It was a bit harder to not-think about how he’d played volunteer security detail, watching over me as I packed my stuff to move from the sorority house. Then, he helped me move into Kanami’s off-campus apartment.

I took a deep breath and folded my leg to continue my stretch.

But I most certainly never thought about—anymore, anyway—how safe I felt when he’d stay over, as the height of Ash’s “coping mechanisms” became some mix of drinking and stalking.

Because just when I’d thought maybe, just maybe, everything happened for a reason—and my “reason” was Maddox McBride, he chose to push me away. But not before we crossed a few “just friends” boundaries, and almost…

My skin flushed hot as a cold, sick, churning hollowed out my stomach. 

No, I definitely never think about how it felt to have his rock-solid, sweat-slicked body pressed against mine. His breath hot against my ear, groaning my name as his fingers teased my aching core to, ahem, certain orgasmic heights.

I couldn’t think about it because it led to remembering how he left me that night—wanton and needy, so desperate to be his.

“Maddox…” 

God, I was such an idiot. And so I made sure to not-think about his apologies and how he rushed away from my apartment. And out of my life.

I rose to my feet, effecting a lunge to stretch my calves.

As months passed, clarity eventually settled in. The only thing that made any sense was that he’d just been taking pity on me. Poor, stupid, deluded Briella, practically a textbook damsel in distress. So humiliating.

But, still, his rejection felt so much worse than breaking up with Ash. Wrong. Like a Band-Aid over a wound that needed stitches to heal.

When I wasn’t as good at not-thinking about Maddox, I’d considered reaching out, thanking him for his help, his friendship, at a time when I needed it—even if it had only been motivated out of pity. I could let him know I was fine now. Wish him well. Like a mature, responsible adult who was completely over him could do.

Which was me…definitely.

Or it was. Yesterday.

Today? Maybe not. Because seeing him again, all I could think of was how familiar he smelled. How he wore just the right amount of scruff on his jaw. How the scowl above those blue-grey eyes lent him an edgy, dangerous appeal.

And this was exactly why I’d avoided anything to do with the football team, once the rumor mill had decided I’d “broken up with Ash over Mick.”

Apparently, it was OK for Ash to have an entire sorority wing of extras. I was just supposed to accept it as the price of being the quarterback’s girlfriend.

Yeah, no.