Painted Petals

by Kassandra Lea

  Clara laughed. “I’m not exactly dressed…”

  “You look fine,” Asher pointed out. ”You are always beautiful to me, Clara.” His comment made her blush. The fact that she’s still here is a good sign. I might have a chance of making this right.

  In the warmth of the barn, Clara removed her hat and placed it on her lap. ”May I say something?”

  “You may say whatever you please.”

  “My anger is not entirely directed at you, but also at myself for jumping to conclusions. I vowed to never punish you for the mistakes committed by those in my past,” she said, worrying her hat between her fingers. “Yet, I did exactly that, and I feel like a fool.”

  Asher placed his hand on the table, beckoning for her to place hers in it. Her skin was soft against his calloused palm. “You’ve never been a fool in my eyes. We are all only human. We react.”

  “I met Shasta,” she blurted. Were her eyes glistening with unshed tears?

  “And?”

  Clara sat up straighter, defiant. Only the slight tremble in her voice gave away the sadness buried just below the surface. “She’s gorgeous. If you want her over me…”

  “Not in a million years,” Asher practically barked. He took his tone down a notch when he saw Clara flinch. “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you and proving to you just how much I love you, Clara Dickens. Do you hear me?”

  “She seems fairly convinced she can win you back.”

  Damn that woman.

  He clenched his jaw, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his words. “She can offer me all the money in the world, the horses with the greatest cow sense, and I’ll pass. Always. I want you, Clara. If you’ll have me.”

  Time ticked by slowly as he waited for Clara’s response, witnessing the subtle shift in her features as she processed his words, her feelings.

  Finally, she nodded feebly, then poked at the covered dish, clearly ready to change the topic. “Am I allowed to know what’s under here? I mean, Tatters offered me snuggles and popcorn, what have you got?”

  “This,” Asher said, reaching for the gift concealed by his hay bale. He placed a delicate blue glass vase on the table. It contained a single flower, a lily, crudely carved from wood and painted an alluring shade of yellow with red toward the center.

  Clara ran a finger along one of the curved petals. ”You made this for me?” A line tear slid down her cheek. “Asher, it’s beautiful.”

  His heart did a little somersault of happiness. “I remember how much you loved the bouquet my father carved for my mom.”

  “But how did you know my favorite flower?”

  “The first time you met Violet the two of you started talking about her garden and you mentioned your love of lilies and how you hoped to plant some come spring.”

  “You remember that?” She fondly held the wooden lily.

  “I remember everything from the very first moment I met you,” said Asher, running his thumb in little circles on the back of her hand. ”The care exhibited in the way you handled Sass that first time, I just knew.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Knew what?”

  Asher leaned across the table, lowering his voice, his gaze never wavering from Clara’s. “That you were, you are, the one I’m meant to be with.”

  “Oh.”

  “Clara,” he started, never getting a chance to finish.

  In the blink of an eye Clara was on her feet, dropping the lily, and making a beeline for the door. Asher, having spied the tears spilling forth before she turned away, started after her, nearly upsetting the table in his haste to catch her, worried he said the wrong thing. Had he, was that what had gone wrong? Had he officially messed up the only thing that meant more to him than the ranch?

  Way to go, hotshot.

  Chapter 16

  Clutching her hat like it was a lifeline, and what a flimsy one at that, Clara raced for the door. How could he speak such sweet loveliness to her? Didn’t he see that it was breaking her heart in an entirely different way?

  Of course not, because I’m acting irrationally and best get a grip. This man, how easily his words, his actions, can make me feel like I’m soaring high with hawks on a summer day or drowning in a downpour. Is this what it means to be in love?

  “Clara,” he called after her. Her hand was on the handle of the barn door when he managed to catch her coat sleeve in his fingers. “Clara, please, tell me what’s wrong? Is it something I said?”

  She studied him, this man who held the strings to her heart like she was little more than a puppet. The blue of his eyes. His strong jaw line, coated in his trademark scruff, which gave him a ruggedly handsome quality. The soft curve of his lips, perfectly kissable. Something deep within Clara stirred and she acted, taking a handful of his jacket and tugging him close. Heat radiated from him. Clara brought her lips to his, as always pleasantly surprised by the taste of him. Asher slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his hard, muscular form. Their lips danced, Clara’s parting slightly at the proving touch of Asher’s tongue. She melted against him, wanting to be enveloped by him.

  To wake up smelling like him.

  Clara buried the fingers of one hand in his hair, knocking Asher’s cowboy hat to the barn floor.

  Make him wear it in bed. His hat and only his hat. Yum.

  Clara experienced a flutter in her stomach, one she never got with Gordon. And why are you thinking about that loser at a time like this? Forget about him, sweetheart. He’s the gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Asher is your Prince Charming, your knight in a cowboy hat and boots. Asher held her tight, the temperature between them skyrocketing. Ever since their first kiss Clara fantasized about tumbling into bed with Asher, drinking in the sight of his naked form, having him explore the curves of her body. Touching her. She may have moaned. It may have been Asher, she didn’t know or care.

  Keeping one hand on the small of her back, Asher snaked the other under her pajama top. Clara shivered at his touch, his skin hot against hers. The tips of his fingers grazed her bare breasts. This time she knew for a fact the moan came from her as Asher swirled his thumb over her painfully erect nipple. Other parts of her began to ache for his touch, demanding the attention they’d been denied for so long. As close as she was Clara could feel that their arousal was mutual.

  Perhaps a bit boldly on her behalf, Clara reached a hand between them, feathering it over the growing bulge in his jeans.

  She wanted to break their kiss, to tell him to take her upstairs to his bedroom and have his way with her. The yearning was strong. But a nagging thought wiggled its way to the forefront of her mind and ruined the moment, reality crashing back in. Gently, yet determinedly, Clara pushed Asher away. She could tell his retreat was reluctant, questions dancing in his eyes, his cheeks flushed. Somehow she managed to keep from looking down, curious about his situation; which must have been uncomfortable in his jeans.

  “I’m sorry,” Clara apologized, regret and longing twisting together in her stomach. “I can’t…we shouldn’t…” Words failed her. Why do I have to be a big mess? If I keep acting like this he’s going to leave me, think of me as difficult. Am I pushing him away? Am I scared of getting too close? Duh. Last time I made that mistake, yes, mistake, that’s what it turned out to be. Who says things with Asher will end up the same way? I love him. Right? Is this what love is, the inability to make heads or tails, a never-ending source of confusion, a rampant mix of emotions? Geez, this is the point when I could use a little angelic Miss Maggie sitting on my shoulder soothing my fears.

  “Clara, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he comforted, taking her into his embrace, his hands above the waist and in no way seeking pleasures. “Talk to me, please.”

  She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. ”I want to, Asher, believe me, I do. But…”

  “It doesn’t feel right,” he finished.

  “I feel like I spent so much time worrying about trusting you over the whol
e Shasta ordeal.”

  “Say no more,” Asher assured, running a hand up and down her back. “I can wait until you’re ready, even if I have to wait forever.”

  Clara smiled faintly, snuggling closer to him, wondering how she managed to be blessed this time around with a guy that understood. Perhaps she had finally dealt with her fair share of frogs, it was time she get her prince.

  “Is Candy Cane really mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody has ever given me a horse before.”

  “I’ll give you the world, Clara, at least, I’ll try.”

  She lifted her head and their eyes met. “You are all I want, Asher Barlow. If you’re willing to put up with my foolishness.”

  He chuckled, tweaking her nose. “Foolish? Clara Dickens? There are two things that don’t go together.”

  They shared a sweet, tender kiss.

  Then curiosity popped out of Clara’s mouth. “So what exactly is under those tins?”

  “Oreo cheesecake from the café.”

  “My favorite. You spoil me.”

  “You’re worth spoiling it.”

  She glanced around him in the direction of the stall. “Shame to let it go to waste.”

  Another laugh bubbled out of Asher. He took her hand firmly in his. “How about we go retrieve our neglected dessert and retire to the house.” When her eyebrows shot up, Asher added. “Just stay with me tonight, Clara. I want to be near you. We won’t do anything but sleep. Please say you’ll stay.”

  The invitation was welcome, did she trust herself to behave around him? Could she share his bed without tearing off his clothes and seeing how he looked underneath? Clara experienced a tingling sensation at the idea of wrapping her fingers around…She cleared her throat, nodding once. She would stay the night, happily, imaging herself enveloped in Asher’s arms.

  “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  She jabbed a finger at the distant stall. “Cheesecake.”

  Asher preformed a flourishing bow. “For you, anything. Wait right here, my love.”

  Clara ogled his backside as he walked off, sucking in her bottom lip. Just sleeping. No hanky-panky. Why do I feel that’s going to be easier said than done? I want him in a primal, tear our clothes off way. No. I want to stumble through his house, hands tugging and pulling, as we leave a trail of clothing on our way to the bedroom. Oh boy, maybe I should go home. Can I share a bed with Asher and simply sleep?

  Chapter 17

  Asher plucked his watch from the bedside table, pressing the button to illuminate the face. It was shy of three in the morning and he was wide awake. He lay still, listening, wondering what it was that rousted him from blissful slumber, but heard only the soft breathing of Clara at his side. He looked at her, moonlight spilling through the window and casting its glow over the bed. His heart ached, in a good way. The love he felt for Clara refused to be contained, wanting to overflow and wash over her. Asher, however, was willing to wait until she was ready. He was afraid of losing her. He’d already come close because of his own foolishness.

  Carefully slipping out from under the blanket, Asher crossed quietly to his dresser. The top drawer whispered as he pulled it. A quick peek over his shoulder revealed a still slumbering Clara. She looked as beautiful as ever. From among his socks he produced a small black velvet box. He pried it open, revealing a sparkling ring, simple, yet mesmerizing. He hadn’t been planning to buy it, but at the store the next town over to find a baby gift for Violet, he saw it in its case. It spoke to him, reminded him of Clara, and though not necessarily an engagement ring, he knew she would love it when he got around to asking the question.

  “And I will,” he muttered, closing the box and secreting it. He started back for the bed and slipped under the covers. With one arm wrapped around her waist he pulled Clara to him, inhaling the scent of her shampoo which clung faintly to her hair. She mumbled in her sleep. “When the moment is right, I’ll ask you to be mine, Clara Dickens. I only hope you’ll say yes and make me the happiest man in the world.”

  THE END

  ABOUT KASSANDRA LEA

  Kassandra Lea lives in WI where she enjoys the bitter winters with long hours of writing. She shares her living space with a cast of four-legged critters, her mom, and a friendly ghost.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!