Sam, however, has no issues finding words. “All this morning when we were getting ready in the bathroom together, then driving here and talk, talk, talking away, arriving early and talking even more about I don’t even remember what — and you never thought to tell us you had a date afterward? Not just later in the evening, but right after church when we would surely notice you leaving?”
“It’s not a date. We’re just going to the gardens.”
“The Botanical Gardens?!”
Zoe’s eyebrows fly. But she says nothing.
“Yes, the gardens. You know what I mean when I say the gardens, Sam.”
“Not a date to a romantic place like that?”
“We’ve gone to the gardens hundreds of times! It’s not romantic.”
“When you go with family, no. When you go with a hot guy and don’t invite family, yes!”
“That’s nuts.”
Samantha smirks, “Did you invite us?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
Prodding me, she leans forward, hands flying to her hips. “Why not?”
“Because you guys wanted donuts!”
Straightening up like a flash she almost shouts, “Oh ho! Is that so?”
“Yes, it is,” I insist, reminding her, “This is your favorite thing, every week.”
“No, my Monday phone call with Logan is my favorite thing!”
“So you admit it!”
She blinks at me. “What? No…”
“You have a thing for Logan!”
“I do not!”
“But your favorite thing is his weekly call!”
“That’s because he’s traveling the world and it’s the only chance I get to hear what’s going on with him!”
“Why do you care? I know why! Because you like him!”
“No! Because he’s my best friend.”
I point at her. “I’m your best friend!”
She grabs my finger, “Stop changing the subject,” and starts twisting it until my knees bend, “You are going on a date and you won’t admit it.”
“OW!”
“Admit it!”
I drop my clutch bag to pull her fingers from mine. “There’s nothing to admit!”
She doubles the effort, using both hands. Sam’s face is close to mine. I’m bent over and nearing a collapse to the ground. Dang it! She’s taller than me! Stronger, apparently, too!
“I love the gardens, Lexi!”
Zoe whispers, “So do I.”
I cry out, “You’re not invited!”
“Why’s that, Lex?” Sam demands, “Huh? Huh??!!!”
“Because it’s a date! It’s a date, okay?! Are you happy?!”
She lets me go with a triumphant, “Very,” and casually heads to the donut line, fully ignoring the amused onlookers with her chin high.
As I massage the blood back into my finger, Zoe waves, “He’s super cute! Have fun!” following Sam.
Snatching the clutch from hot cement I grumble inwardly and turn toward Gage, freezing momentarily as I see him outside of his red Bronco now, leaned against its passenger door, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked.
Collecting my dignity, I stroll over, smoothing straightened hair and glancing to the sun like it’s just any other day. No big deal.
With questions in his eyes, he says, “You look beautiful.”
Hoping he leaves it at that, my gaze drops to the rose sundress and brown sandals I had, for some odd reason, trouble deciding on. “Thank you.” Locking eyes with him I motion to his ripped blue jeans and white t-shirt. “I’m a fan of casual Sundays.”
He holds my look in a meaningful way. “This is just casual.”
Okay.
Hold on.
Wait.
Why is he making that so clear? Is this like how it was with Brad all over again? Is Gage making sure I don’t get attached, too?
I don’t ever!
I’m as independent as they come! He’s got nothing to worry about.
Puh-leazzzzz.
And why should he worry?!
I’m amazing!
Whoever I end up with will be treated like a King! And if he can’t see…
He’s staring at me.
Waiting for an answer.
Ahem.
My neck lengthens, eyes steeling, voice tight. “That’s what I’ve been telling everyone.”
Gage holds the door open. “Good.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “Why is it casual?”
“Because we’re so different.”
I parrot his, “Good,” with the same satisfaction as I use his hand to lift me up. Adjusting the dress over my knees in the seat, I smile, “For a second there I thought…never mind.”
He shuts the door, top off as usual. Leaning an elbow on its open frame, Gage asks, “You want a donut?”
“What?” My eyebrows fly up as I look at him, because I do indeed want a donut right now. To ease the stress. In fact, I always want a donut.
He jogs his head back toward the chatting congregation where, following his gaze, I see my sister holding up an offering of two chocolate bars.
“Be right back.”
From my prison I watch him stroll into her trap.
My lips part.
Can’t jump out now.
Yes, I can.
Leaping from the Bronco, I follow him, spine straight and dignified.
Face, freaked.
Zoe stands beside Samantha with eyes far more innocent than my sister’s mischievous ones.
I strain to overhear him say, “Thanks, girls. She said she’d like one.”
“And you wanna give her what she wants,” smirks Sam.
He returns her challenge, smirking, too, “So far everything’s she’s wanted I’ve been down with.”
“Oh, really?!” Sammy cuts a glance to me as she hands over the chocolate bars. “You don’t say?”
I’m not speechless often.
Gage’s huge hand crushes their base, his grip unintentionally too much for fried fluff. “I hope you’re not using these donuts to win an invitation to join us.”
Sam blinks at him. “No.”
He smiles, “Good,” taking my hand with his free one, “Because you’re not invited.”
Zoe’s passive face brightens with a grin.
As we stroll away, I stick my tongue out at my sister.
She mouths a silent, “He’s perfect for you.”
So I flip her off.
God doesn’t mind.
I was born to be a brat.
By Grand design.
Chapter Twenty-Two
GAGE
Side-by-side we approach a large building at the far end of the gardens, our final destination.
“That’s one hell of a name.” I point to the sign, reading aloud, “Fuqua Conservatory and Orchid Center. I bet nobody remembers that.”
She agrees, “We always just say, Let’s go to the orchids.”
My gaze drops to a dark, still pond filled with enormous lily pads. “I’ve never been here.”
“To the gardens?” Lexi stops walking. “Wait, you never told me that.”
“No, I’ve come here before with my family. Once or twice when we were kids. But we walked the paths. Saw the woman plant-sculpture thing. We didn’t make it back this far.”
“This is my favorite part of the whole place.”
“Yeah? You like orchids?”
“It’s not just the orchids, it’s… you’ll see!”
We walk around to the entrance, and into a lobby with a few small aquariums Lexi doesn’t stop at.
I’m following her lead, and my wait to be impressed isn’t long as we walk into a huge room of hilly paths through trees, live quail running by our feet, birds tweeting unseen and frogs even louder than they are.
We take our time, read signs about the vegetation, but little of it sticks in my head. What will stick with me, though, is curtains of vines hanging in long strings from the ceiling. The rest of it gets for
gotten because I’m too busy watching her happiness. She’s not the bouncy type. No, she glides.
Every stranger we come across, Lexi greets with a “Hi,” receiving in return a similar greeting. At first I’m quiet, just adding a nod. But her friendliness and easy confidence is infectious. Soon I’m joining in with my own, “How ya doin’?” to each solo visitor, couple, and group.
We leave this room and move across to the next — a tropical exhibit so green that any other color stands out like it’s lit up. The humidity is a thick blanket of heady scents, and when Lexi takes a deep breath to enjoy it, I do, too.
She smiles at me. “Isn’t this amazing?”
I answer by pulling her to me for a kiss under a living arch. Lexi rises on her tiptoes to respond. No heels today. Gotta say, I like how she feels in my arms. A lot.
“Excuse us,” comes a woman’s interruption.
We separate and see a smiling, older couple trying to politely get by. The man locks eyes with me as I say, “How ya doin’?”
“Doing well, thanks.”
Lexi nods, “Have a good day,” and means it.
We continue on, her a bit ahead of me. When no one’s around, I ask her, “You always greet everyone like that?”
“You’re doing it, too.”
“I just started.”
Over her shoulder she looks at me. “I noticed. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
I chuckle and shrug, not explaining that it felt weird at first, but yeah, now that I’m used to it…
By the time we leave this exhibit with Lexi announcing, “Now the orchids,” her hair is wavy from intense humidity. Georgia is wet enough in summertime. This was more than that. Rainforest worthy, and I quickly find out that the orchid room, with glass walls, heated misters watering hundreds of colorful flowers, is equal to it.
With hair curlier by the footstep, she points out orchids she loves, saying things like, “Oh, I’ve never seen that one before! Look!”
Midway through we duck sheaths of Spanish Moss, and turn around as a conservatory volunteer behind us announces, “These don’t have chiggers in them.”
Lexi’s cherry eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Those are only outside in the real world. We don’t have them in the exhibit.”
“Huh,” I mumble, “Always wanted to touch these,” fingering the chaos of spindly strings.
Lexi’s pseudo-annoyed, “I wish someone had told me that earlier! I’ve been here how many times?!” makes our informative volunteer smile.
“I can always tell a local from how they react. Tourists touch it right away.”
Georgians know that Spanish Moss — cool as it looks — should never be touched. It houses tiny bugs that burrow under your skin and have to be burned out. With fire.
When your parents warn you about chiggers with an image like that, you listen.
Our curiosity satisfied, we start to move on, but the volunteer says, “I love your curly hair!”
Lexi blinks. Her hands fly to her head, eyes wide. “Oh no!” She turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Oh,” the volunteer stammers, “I thought…” and hurries off.
A smirk pulls at my lips. “Why didn’t I tell you what?”
“That my hair went wild?”
I pull her in.
She fights me.
Finally gives up.
And for the first time today she looks insecure.
I touch her chin.
Tilt it.
Murmur, “I like it wild.”
“It’s a mess.”
“No, it isn’t, Cherry. You’re beautiful. And it makes no sense that an untamed woman like you tames anything other than me.”
She searches my eyes, lips parting to speak but my kiss doesn’t give her a chance. Lexi melts into me, pressing her body to mine as I hold her close.
“You guys must be new,” comes a woman’s interruption.
We look over to see the same older couple smiling at us as they pass — this time with more than enough room to get by, so we don’t need to move or even separate.
Lexi doesn’t like the implication, and smiles at them, “My parents still make out. You should give it a revisit!”
The man glances back, his gaze then dropping to consider the possibility, but his wife has hurried her steps and left him behind. Poor guy.
I lower my volume to smirk, “Think you embarrassed her,” and get a kiss in return. One for the record books.
We move on, and she continues to point out which orchids speak to her the most.
I admit, “To me they look like they’re from an alien planet, dropped here by guys with heads like praying mantises.”
Lexi eyeballs me. “What?!”
I shrug.
We pass by an oddly shaped one that proves my point, and Lexi exclaims, “I guess they kinda do!”
“You hungry?”
“So hungry! All I had today was that donut.”
“Want to walk around Piedmont Park, grab something from a cart?”
“Yes!”
“Cool.”
She tugs my hand, “Gage, wait,” stopping just before the exit. “Take one last deep breath.”
I do, even closing my eyes because it smells so good.
We walk back the way we came in, through vine curtains, tree-lined paths filled with frogs we can only hear, and out through the lobby into sunlight flickering from lily pads the size of my head.
Lexi whispers, “Look!”
I follow her chin-point to the pond’s edge, far right, where I see that older couple — his arms around her waist, hers around his neck, kissing like they’re remembering how.
A grin spreads, and I whisper back to Cherry, “Well, I’ll be,” taking her hand as we head left to leave them to it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LEXI
THREE MONTHS LATER
We show up at The Local where Wyatt, Nathan, Sam, Zoe and Ryder have already staked our claim of its dart board, everyone’s in their casuals, no jackets since it’s a warm Wednesday night. There’s just a smattering of customers which is why we’re here mid-week. Little to no competition for gaming.
Sammy waves high in the air, “Lexi! Gage! We’re over here!”
I lean to whisper as we walk through the nearly empty restaurant area, “As if we couldn’t see them,” and kiss Gage’s cheek.
Gage turns his face and kisses my lips, quickly, before we reach them and he’s officially introduced to the boys in an extremely unofficial way. I kind of wave at him, “This is Gage,” naming each guy off by pointing, “That’s Wyatt, Nathan — they’re brothers. And this is Ryder, he’s the nephew of our cousin’s husband. That’s a mouthful.”
Gage offers a simple, “Hey.”
They return the same.
He nods to Sam and Zoe who smile, “Hi Gage!”
My girls have gotten to know him better since he’s watched movies at our place a bunch, bringing pizza, beer, and acquiescing to our love of romantic dramas and comedies. At first he fought us, but now thinks it’s funny how smooshy-gooshy we get during the good parts. Gage joked that since we freak out so much, it’s more fun to watch us than the movies.
Tonight, as Ryder pours into the last two mugs from an amber-filled pitcher, I’m very aware that Zoe isn’t gazing at him like she normally does ever since he arrived in our lives.
They both seem tense tonight.
Answering the wrong question in my eyes, Sammy says, “We emptied the first pitcher.”
“Ah.”
“Five people.”
“Right.”
Nathan separates darts into groups of two colors, as his brother returns a text on his phone and shouts, “The second of many pitchers to come!”
I grin, having looked forward to this so much. It’s the perfect kind of night — easy-going darts with my family and my casual lover.
Gage jumped at the invite.
You invited Brad.
He never cam
e.
You always wanted this.
A cool guy who liked darts.
To introduce to your family.
Shut up!
Wyatt announces, “It’s a matter of principle, Nate!” tapping away at his screen while apparently resuming an argument they’d began before we arrived.
Nathan volleys back, “You going first isn’t a principle. It’s something older siblings made up to dominate those of us who had no choice about when we were born.”
“I had no choice about when I was born, either!”
“Then don’t lord it over me.”
“I’m going first,” Wyatt mutters, distracted by the text message he’s working on, “Get it through your thick skull. I’m older than you. It’s my right.”
So Nathan throws the first dart.
Wyatt’s head snaps up from his phone, staring at the bullseye. “What the fuck?!”
Nathan wraps a calloused hand around his mug. “Pay attention to the game and you won’t be left behind.”
We clap. For all the reasons.
“And a fucking bullseye, too, no less!” Wyatt shoves his phone into blue jeans pockets, grumbling, “You sonofabitch.”
Zoe cries out, “You can’t say he’s the son of a bitch because that means you and I are also the spawns of one and we aren’t!”
Wyatt side-eyeballs her. “She can be one sometimes.”
Her eyes go wide.
Nathan hits his shoulder.
Wyatt throws it off, in fun, and readies his shot, admitting, “She’s never one. I was only kidding. Nathan, watch this bad boy go. I’m gonna knock your bullseye out.” He throws but gets a pathetic twenty points. “Dammit!”
Ralphie calls over, “That bad, huh, Wyatt?”
“I’ll get him back!”
While the brothers continue playing, I describe our family to Gage. Just a couple sentence-long summaries of each person. Sammy and Zo offer details they think are necessary. He won’t remember most of it since there are a whopping seventeen of us descended from six very different brothers.
Gage chuckles, “You’ve got a bigger family than I realized.”
“We’re even leaving out a bunch of names.”
“How is that possible?”
“Our cousins are having kids now, too, so the increase isn’t addition. It’s multiplication.”
Sammy grins, “Says the accountant,” before gulping her beer.
Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25) Page 12
