Love Blooms

by Jo McNally

  “So you decided the answer was to just avoid the topic...avoid them...as long as possible? You put yourself in harm’s way, just to avoid a conversation. What were you planning to do when you and I got home from our honeymoon?”

  He felt like a fool, but he had to come clean here. Even if it didn’t exactly enhance her opinion of him. “I didn’t say I had a plan, much less a good plan. I convinced myself that I had no choice but to just...do it and it would work out somehow. That having you there would make it better.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. “And now that I’ve said that out loud I realize how stupid it sounds.”

  Her hand touched his shoulder. “Poor Owen. You’ve always been such a rule follower. Such a straight arrow. You do what people expect you to do. That’s why you loved the Army so much. They told you what to do and you did it.” He winced. Was that a compliment? It didn’t feel like one. She tapped her fingers against his skin, bringing him out of his own head. “But you’re not stupid. You just...do stupid things once in a while.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re a good man. A caring man. A responsible man.” He lifted his head and turned to look at her. “You ran over here in a storm to bring me lights. I mean...you may go to extremes to avoid certain difficult conversations, but...”

  “Jesus, Luce. You start out making me sound great, then the more you talk...” He straightened a bit, not taking his eyes from hers. Even in the dim light, he could see they were shining with something. Was it pity, or was it warmth? She shook her head with a soft smile.

  “I was going to marry you. You must have done something right.”

  “But you didn’t.” His voice dropped. “You didn’t marry me.”

  Her tongue traced along her upper lip. She was killing him.

  “No. But that wasn’t all on you. Yes, you were being distant. Unengaged.” He started to draw back, but her fingers gripped his shoulder, holding him there. “But that was just one piece of what made me throw that bomb into everyone’s lives. I could have dealt with you. I loved you, and we could have figured it out.” She sighed. “But it was like playing Jenga—the tower can stand if you pull one piece out. Then two pieces. But more and more pieces get pulled out until there are so many holes the tower can’t support itself anymore. That’s how I felt the day of the wedding. There was nothing holding me up anymore. I hurt you more than anyone else, and you didn’t deserve it.”

  But there was only one word echoing in his mind...loved. She’d said it in the past tense. I loved you.

  “Do you think you could ever love me again?”

  “What?”

  “You said you loved me...past tense. Could you love me again? I mean...really love me?”

  “I... I could. Let’s face it, I still do love you in so many ways. But is that enough? We’ve both made such huge mistakes...” She didn’t look away. Her mouth slanted up on one side. “Maybe that spreadsheet would help. Maybe we need to know each other better so we know if we’re really right for each other.”

  “I don’t need any damn spreadsheet to tell me that.” His voice was rough in his own ears. “Yeah, we screwed up. But I never once stopped loving you.”

  “And yet you never saw that I was struggling.”

  It wasn’t said as an accusation. Her voice was steady...tender. Which didn’t do a thing to blunt the pain he felt. Did he not know what love meant? There was something about this moment, sitting so close—when did she get this close?—in this frilly Victorian bedroom, that felt pivotal. Make or break.

  “Is it possible for both to be true?” he asked. “Is it possible that I love you and still screwed up and hurt you? Is it possible you loved me and left me...but still love me?”

  Her soft huff of laughter sent warm air across his cheek. “As if I wasn’t already confused! To answer the question that I think you’re asking... I don’t know. I guess anything’s possible.” Did she just move closer still? “I can’t really criticize you for avoiding big conversations. That exactly what I did when I left North Carolina. I ran instead of facing the music.”

  Owen didn’t want to agree and hurt her feelings, but...yeah. They’d both made some big mistakes. She nudged his shoulder. “There are definitely things I miss about us. Like what we just did on the sofa—I’ve missed that. But does great sex solve anything? Or are we just letting the physical take over the logical?”

  She was pressed up against him now, and he had a feeling she didn’t even know she’d done it. He hadn’t moved, but she was right there, with desire—and hope?—written on her face.

  He slid his arm behind her and pressed her back against the colorful quilt. Talking could wait.

  “I think we should find out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LUCY DIDN’T EVEN think about objecting to the suggestion. He untied her shirt—correction, his shirt—and let it fall open. His arm was still under her back, and he slid her toward the head of the bed while crawling on his knees to stay above her. His eyes were dark with desire. His expression alone was enough to make her body arch and tremble, her core growing heavy and hot.

  Downstairs in the dark, they’d been quick. Fevered. Frantic. It was a passion bomb going off. But she could already tell this time was going to be different. He was just as intense, but it was contained.

  His hands slowly unfastened her shorts, sliding them down her legs and folding them carefully before setting them on the nightstand next to the lamp. He stood and worked his own shorts off, folding them along with his boxer briefs and setting them on top of hers before crawling back into bed. He produced the other two condoms from his pocket, and the entire time his eyes never left hers. She started to slip off the open shirt but Owen gave a slight shake of his head.

  “You look too good in that shirt. Keep it.”

  “Okay...” She flipped the tails of the shirt out to the side playfully, but he didn’t smile. Instead, his mouth fell open, as if in awe. That thought made her feel good, but it was unlikely...

  “Christ, Lucy. You look like an angel. You’re so beautiful that I’m afraid to touch you...”

  “Oh, you’re gonna touch me, mister.” She reached out to grab his hand, tugging until he moved over her. But he still held himself above her, his gaze sweeping down her body.

  “Yeah, I am going to touch you.” He slowly lowered himself onto her, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her. “I’m going to touch every last inch of you. And I’m going to take my time. And I’m going to make sure you enjoy it. A lot. Sound good?”

  “That sounds very good. You leaving the light on?”

  He glanced over at the fancy lamp with its lacy shade, then back to her. “Do you mind it on?”

  “No. But it’s not like you haven’t seen all this before.”

  She knew the words were a mistake as soon as she said them. It was an unwelcome reminder that they weren’t new lovers discovering each other. They were lovers who’d almost married. Who’d definitely made love through the years—when he wasn’t deployed. Had even made love the week before the almost-wedding. It had been slightly awkward and subdued, but she’d blamed it on them both being exhausted. Truth be told, Owen hadn’t really been engaged in anything 100 percent since leaving the Army. Until now.

  His face flinched for a moment before he looked at her with nothing but kindness and understanding in his eyes.

  “That’s true. I’ve seen you from pretty much every angle known to man and woman.” His mouth slid into a slow, sexy smile. “But this is different. This is us being grown-ups. This is us getting to know each other on a whole different level. This is me begging for a second chance. It’s you giving me one.” His hands slid across her shoulder, grazed her breast—and stopped for a quick pinch that made her gasp—before moving down her ribs and between her legs.

  “This is me looking at you and n
ot missing one thing. Not taking one single thing for granted. Not ever again, but damn sure not tonight.” He kissed her lips, pressing his fingers against her warmth until she moaned against his mouth. “Downstairs was hot and heavy. That was you and me in the Bronco that first night. Better. But not...not like this.” He stroked her again and her head fell back as she gave herself up to sensation. His touch. His voice. His tender words spoken in a gravelly voice. “If we’ve got all night, then I’m taking it. So lay back and relax, baby. I got you.”

  I got you.

  How many times had he said those three words lately? Every time she stumbled, physically or emotionally, he kept reassuring her.

  I got you.

  His fingers gained entry and her hips rose off the bed as she gave a whimper of need. He captured the whimper with his kisses, then trailed his mouth down her jaw. Down her neck. Down her chest. Like his hands, he paused at her breast just long enough to pull and nip before continuing the journey across her belly to hit the same spot his fingers were moving against. The combination was lethal, and she cried out his name. She forced her eyes open, determined to watch him. At the same moment, his lashes swept up and he caught her gaze. He held it as his mouth found its target and he went to work. She wanted to close her eyes and scream in need, frustration and pure carnal delight. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  They stared at each other as he brought her closer and closer to the precipice, his tongue and his fingers working together like a very efficient team. She reached for his head, twisting her fingers in his hair. He made a deep, guttural sound but didn’t slow down. Why was she resisting? She could just let go...she was ready. But she held on, denying herself and absorbing the sensations rocketing through her body. She held on until she couldn’t anymore, letting go with a cry as he cupped her buttocks in his hands and pressed on until she thought she’d lose consciousness. She gasped his name and somehow he understood. He slowed until she settled back onto the mattress, then he traced tiny kisses around her quivering heat and down each thigh.

  She forced her eyes open again when he stopped. He’d lifted his head and was smiling up at her. It was a very satisfied smile. She knew the feeling, and was probably returning that slightly goofy grin. He gave a last kiss to her thigh and started moving back up her body, dropping more kisses along the way. When his mouth finally reached hers, his hands were cupping her breasts, kneading them slowly, flicking her nipples.

  He kissed her deep and hard, tasting of sex and love. Then he lowered his head close to her ear and breathed, “As good as we’ve been, that look on your face right now...that’s something I’ve never seen before.”

  The rest of the night was more of the same. Him on top. Her on top. Him between her legs, her between his. Kissing. Sucking. Nipping. Sighing. Tangling and teasing until neither of them knew who was where anymore. Both of the remaining condoms were put to very good use, and neither of them got any sleep until nearly dawn. He had to gather the sheets and blankets up off the floor, pulling them up as she burrowed into his arms. So tired. So happy.

  * * *

  OWEN HEARD MUSIC in his dream. That made perfect sense, since he was dreaming about Lucy and flowers and butterflies and lots of naked skin. Music was a natural fit, but there was something...off. The music was too loud. There was scrambling movement next to him. And cursing.

  “Shit, shit shit!” He opened his eyes at the sound of Lucy hissing. She crabwalked across the bed, his rumpled shirt still covering her back, and fished her phone out of the shorts he’d folded on her nightstand. “That’s my alarm. It’s morning. Daylight morning. Shit...”

  Owen sat up and reached for her waist, pulling her down next to him while she continued stabbing at her phone until the noise stopped. “Okay...when did you become the start-the-day-cursing sort of morning person? Especially on a Sunday? Because I do not remember this side of you.”

  “You spent the night!” Her eyes were wide with panic, and maybe confusion. “This is...this wasn’t supposed to...”

  He stopped her with a kiss. After a brief freeze-up, she melted into him. He ran his fingers up her spine and he was pretty sure she purred in response. She kissed him back, long and hard. She finally pulled back, calmer but still looking baffled. Her hair was wild around her face. Her lips were kiss-swollen and pink. He didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful. Her head went back and forth slowly.

  “What have we done?”

  What, indeed? There’d been no promises of having more than one night. But the fact that she was this uncertain meant he wasn’t the only one who felt it was much more than that. Something had fallen between them, leaving them...exposed. Vulnerable. On a precipice of a miracle. Or a disaster. He did his best to sound composed and confident.

  “What we’ve done is spend the night together. Having the best sex of our lives. Talking about things neither of us had talked about before. Not to each other, anyway.” He tugged her into his lap. “What we’ve done is...maybe...turned a corner?”

  Lucy rested her head against his chest, soft and warm in his arms. She nodded against him. “We did all of that. But what’s around the corner we just turned? Is that daylight in the distance or an oncoming freight train?”

  “Whatever it is, let’s make a deal to face it together. Luce, you’re going to have to start trusting again. You’re going to have to trust me. Trust us.”

  She sighed. “I know. But Owen... I’m not going back to Greensboro. I know that for sure.”

  “Okay.” He kissed her hair. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to my family and we’ll figure something out.”

  “Like what, exactly?”

  He chuckled. Because he had no clue.

  “I don’t know. But I do know it’s something we don’t have to solve right this minute. Not when we’re in bed together and...” His hand moved up her leg, but she stopped him. Damn. So close.

  “And I need to get ready for work. I convinced Connie we should do a complete inventory of the shop today. I can’t be late for my own idea.” She looked up at him with a playful grin. He was glad to see her relaxing again. “But hold that thought for later, okay?” She stood with a groan, and he almost groaned with her.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  She laughed, pushing her hair up off her neck and looking into the mirror before glancing back at him over her shoulder.

  “I look like a mess.”

  “A beautiful, sexy mess.” Then he remembered something. “Hey... I heard a rumor you got a tattoo? I didn’t see any last night. Where...?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The rumor mill in this town is unbelievable! I went to the studio with Evie, but I decided that was one step too wild. The needles were a no-go for me.”

  He crawled out of bed and pulled her in for one last squeeze and kiss. “I love you, Lucy Higgins. Every messy, non-inked inch of you.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. Into his soul. Testing him. Still doubting his words. That was okay. He could be patient.

  “I know you do. Lord knows, I’ve given you a laundry list of reasons why you shouldn’t.” She put her hand to his cheek. “But your family is not going to approve. They’re not going to let you just walk away from the grand plan without a fight. And even if they do, that means you have no job. We have no home if this place sells. We can’t just live at the Taggart Inn. I don’t know if Connie wants a partner or not. What if she sells the shop instead? What if—”

  “Hey.” He covered her hand with his. “Don’t spin out on me. The only thing that matters right this minute is that we’re together. I love you. You love me, too, even if you don’t want to admit it. That’s all that matters. The rest will fall into place. Or it won’t.” He shrugged. “The only grand plan I’m concerned with right now is us being together. I tuned out on us once. I won’t do it again. Whatever you need is what I’ll give. We’ll figure
it out together. And we’ll talk, the way we did last night. No assuming. No secrets.”

  He mentally crossed his fingers when he said those words. He was pretty sure telling her about using the Dr. Find-Love app was a bad idea. She might think it was funny, but she might not. She’d accused him once of acting like this was a game. No sense giving her any ammunition.

  She hesitated, then her mouth slowly slid into a smile.

  “Together. No assumptions. No secrets.” She went on tiptoe to kiss him, then turned away. “I really do need to shower and go to work.”

  “I’ll cook you breakfast.” He found his boxer briefs and shorts, and pulled them on. Lucy still wore his buttonless shirt. As if reading his mind, she went to the dresser and pulled out something that looked familiar. It was an olive green T-shirt, well-worn and faded. He laughed when she tossed it at him. “You kept my old shirt from Fort Bragg?”

  She headed into the bathroom, talking to him through the open door as she turned on the shower. “I’ve used that as a nightshirt for years, but you can borrow it back for today. It’ll save you from walking around bare-chested.”

  He pulled it over his head. “I wouldn’t be bare-chested if someone hadn’t destroyed my shirt last night.”

  “It’s not my fault you decided to play hero and come running to my rescue. How was I supposed to resist a move like that?” She came to the door and started to close it, giving him a quick wink before she did. “It’s like someone scripted your way to my heart, Mr. Big Brave Soldier.”