by Laura Ward
“East or West coast?” Daisy tilted her head to the side, waiting for my answer.
“East. We went to the Outer Banks in North Carolina.” The breeze picked up, cooling the hot evening temperature down a bit. “Have you? Seen the ocean, that is?”
She shook her head. “No. Dean’s talked about taking us on a cruise, but Dad won’t let him pay for his own parents and siblings. My parents could never afford to take us all across the country. We had plenty of lake vacations, and they were great and all, but I’m almost eighteen and I’ve never seen the ocean.”
I chuckled softly. “I hate to break it to you, Daisy, but it’s just a big body of water.”
She smacked my arm playfully. “I know that. My point is that there’s so much to see and do in this world, but not everyone seems to feel that way. Some people are content to stay right where they are. In Indiana. In life. That’s never been me. I’ve always wanted something… more.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” This was why Daisy seemed so much older than her years to me. She was always thinking. Dreaming. Listening to her talk got my blood flowing faster. It made me excited to live my life. I sat up, mirroring her position. “Did I tell you about my road trip with Ricky?”
Her smile was huge. “No. Where are you two going?”
I shrugged. “We’re winging it. Getting in my truck and taking off. We’ll visit Landon in LA at some point and Dean on the way home. Other than that, we’re going to explore.” After hearing Daisy talk about her own wanderlust, she inspired me and I was genuinely excited to get on the road.
“Oh,” she pressed her hand to her chest and swooned. “You’ll see California. I’m so happy for you and Ricky.”
My smile was small. “Thank you. You’ll get your turn, too. Someone with a mind as strong as yours, always finds a way.” I nudged my shoulder against hers.
“I read a quote once where the woman says she’s not the same since having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world. As soon as I read it, I knew it would be like that for me. I’ll make it happen, Jon. I’ll see the moon on the other side of the world. I have to.” She scrunched her nose and pursed her lips in the cutest expression of stubborn passion I’d ever seen.
This time I laughed loudly. “I have no doubt you will, Daisy.” I sat up and pulled her to my side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Daisy giggled and as I looked down to ask her what was funny, she raised her chin, and we bumped heads.
“Ow,” she laughed, rubbing her forehead.
“Geez, you really are hardheaded.” I groaned.
“Hey,” she pushed against my chest, but I grabbed her hands before she could knock me onto my back.
She fell into me, our faces so close I could feel her breath, her lips brushing my jaw. If I lowered my face, even an inch, our lips would meet.
Daisy’s eyes fluttered closed and she leaned in.
Ah, fuck.
Nope. Can’t happen.
Lifting her up, I gently set her next to me and then scooted farther away, putting some much needed space between us.
Several long, awkward minutes passed in silence. My stomach knotted. Christ, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her or embarrass her. But being too close to her was dangerous on many levels.
“Why did you leave the party?” she asked, pushing her hair away from her face.
I stared straight ahead at the water. “You weren’t there.”
Her breath caught. “I didn’t have any friends there. You did. You should be with your friends.”
My lungs constricted, making it hard to breathe. This girl was wrecking me. Completely.
I held out my hand, palm up to her. She hesitated, but slipped her warm delicate hand into my large one. “I am with my friend. And she’s the only person I should be with right now.”
“Jon,” she whispered.
I couldn’t look at her. If I did, I’d want to kiss her and make her mine. God, how I wanted to make her mine. But I couldn’t do that. Someday, maybe. But not today. Today I would be her friend and she would be my sunshine.
Chapter Five
Daisy
“HOW CAN YOU cook on such a hot day?” Damian propped his long body up on the counter with a whine and swiped an arm across his clammy forehead.
August temperatures in Indiana soared into the high nineties. I’d been working in an office all day the past few months, avoiding the most uncomfortable parts of summer. But based on the drips of sweat that traveled down my neck and along my spine, I’d be willing to bet our kitchen temp was a hundred degrees today. The box fans we placed in the room did nothing but circulate hot air around the space.
I slid the strawberry and rhubarb pie into the warm oven. “Wouldn’t be so bad if the air conditioning wasn’t broken. I heard the repair guy tell Ma that the whole unit has to be replaced. That’s like eight grand, Damian.”
He grimaced. “I was eavesdropping. Already texted Dean and he’s taking care of it.”
That was a huge load off my mind. “Thank you for doing that. Dean’s redeeming himself from years of picking on us, huh?”
Damian grinned and popped a fresh strawberry into his mouth. “That’s gonna take more than a new HVAC system.” He pushed off the counter and opened the refrigerator door, shoving his head inside. A long, relieved sigh came from his side of the room, followed by, “You made sweet tea?”
“Sure did.” I winked, and Damian whooped as he grabbed a frosty mug from the freezer and filled it to the brim. I took an extra-large Ziploc bag out of the pantry and filled it with flour, cornstarch, garlic powder, paprika, salt, and pepper. I secured the top and shook it to mix the ingredients together.
“Fried chicken? Shit, I’m leaving for work in five minutes.” Damian stuck his lower lip out in a pout.
Pushing him out of the way, I pulled the platter of rinsed chicken from the fridge. “I’ll save you a plate.” I dipped a chicken leg into the bowl of egg mixture I prepared before adding it to the Ziploc bag, and then shook the leg until it was coated.
“What’s the occasion? Fried chicken on a hot August day…” Damian’s voice trailed off, and then he snickered. “I bet Jon’s back in town, isn’t he?”
My cheeks bloomed with heat, but I didn’t respond. These last few weeks he’d been traveling with Ricky had been torturous. I went through the motions each day, but it just wasn’t the same without him here. There wasn’t that rush or excitement I’d always felt having him near. I missed Jon with an ache that surprised me.
Instead of admitting that to my cautious brother, I focused on my task of pulling out the coating covered leg and placing it onto a clean platter to be fried. Grabbing a wing, I started the process over.
“Daisy, do you have a crush on Jon?” Damian asked.
My back tensed. Crap. What do I say to that? I had always had a crush on Jon, but that was not information that anyone, especially my brother, needed to know.
I turned to him, shaking the innocent wing with extra force in the flour bag. “No, I do not. We are friends, Damian. And he’s been gone for two weeks, so I thought I’d make him a nice dinner to welcome him back to Indy. That’s all.”
That wasn’t all. Jon and I spent a lot of this summer together. In the two months since graduation, he continued to come to dinner and sometimes stayed to watch a movie with my family. We texted constantly throughout the day, and I always looked forward to seeing his name on my screen. But Jon and Ricky had gone on a road trip at the beginning of the month. All I knew was that Ricky was going through a bad spell, so Jon took his vacation time to be with him.
He hadn’t called me once. And the absence of his voice, of his presence, hurt my heart.
He was due home late yesterday and would have worked today at the law firm. I was crossing my fingers and toes that he would pop his head in the door soon for dinner.
Damian stared me down, eyes narrowed. I was a born and bred Goldsmith. I learned by the age of three how to beat my b
rothers in a staring contest. I didn’t even blink.
Finally, he broke contact with a chuckle. “Okay, sis. I’ve gotta get to my shift at the pool.” Damian was a lifeguard at the Country Club of Avon. He grabbed his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
“But if you ever decide you do have a crush on Jon, you should know that I love him like a brother, but he’s not a relationship guy. You’re too innocent for him, which would spell disaster for your heart. And then I’d have to kick his ass or die trying.” Damian laughed at his line. Jon would be a formidable opponent for anyone, but I didn’t doubt my brother’s devotion.
I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I got it, D.”
Damian saluted on his way out the door, and I turned back to my chicken.
I knew Jon was a ladies man. He was best friends with Dean in his pre-Grace years for goodness sake. But as we became closer friends this summer, I’d begun to trust him. That was a first for me to open up to a guy other than in my family and it felt darn good. I absolutely had a crush on Jon, but I was under no misguided impression that he would ever feel the same.
I poured a generous amount of oil into the heated frying pan and added a few pieces of chicken. The sound of the meat and oil sizzling and popping filled the small kitchen space, giving me a sense of calm. This was my element. This was where I found the real me.
“Holy hell, Sunshine. You are a sight for sore eyes.”
He’s here. A pulse of adrenaline rushed through me, zinging up my spine, and I gripped the edge of the counter to keep from wobbling.
I kept my back to Jon and closed my eyes for just a second, gathering my composure. I couldn’t wait to see him, but at the same time, he hurt me. But when I finally turned around, my breath caught in my throat.
Jon was in his work clothes. Gray dress slacks and a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. But what stopped me in my tracks were his eyes. His brown eyes danced with happiness as he looked at me.
“Jon!” I grabbed a towel and wiped my hands as he made his way across the kitchen. Before I could stop myself, I jumped into his arms, and he hugged me tightly to him.
He squeezed me before letting go. “I missed you, Daisy.” His words were low in my ear, and my blood raced hot through my veins.
I didn’t want to let go. Being in his arms felt so good. So right. But I peeled myself away, inhaling his lingering scent before facing the stove again to regain my equilibrium.
I flipped the pieces of chicken that were frying and added another piece to the flour bag, keeping my back to him again. The fact that he hadn’t called or texted for two weeks sucked, even when I knew I had no right to feel that way.
“Hey, I hope you aren’t mad at me,” he said. “Ricky flipped out the night we left. He had too many beers and threw both of our phones in a lake. Idiot.” Jon placed his brand new iPhone on the counter next to me. “Real smart to go on a road trip with no way to call for help. Luckily, we were fine, but I missed talking to you. A lot.”
My heart slowed its rapid rhythm. He missed me. He hadn’t forgotten about me. I turned back to him with a wobbly grin.
“Those are huge breasts!” Jon exclaimed, and I felt my eyes widen. His cheeks turned red, and he backed away a step. “The ch-ch-chicken.” He pointed to the bag of flour and meat I held in front of my chest. “I was talking about the chicken.”
I looked down and burst out laughing. Jon muttered a curse, but then laughed too. With the tension between us gone, I relaxed for what felt like the first time in two weeks.
~~~
Thirty minutes later, we were caught up on his trip. Landon and Emma were ridiculously in love, Dean and Grace were ga-ga over each other, and Ricky was still a mess. Jon apologized, but Ricky swore him to secrecy so he couldn’t tell me about his stuff. I didn’t mind. I loved that Ricky could confide in Jon. And I was happy for Dean and Landon.
Unbelievably jealous, but happy for them.
The timer dinged, and I grabbed two oven mitts, pulling the pie out just as the top turned golden brown.
“Daisy? You didn’t?” Jon leaned over my shoulder and inhaled.
I placed the pie on top of a trivet on the counter to cool. “Strawberry rhubarb. Your favorite.” My shrug was followed by a grin.
Jon’s mouth hung open. “Why?” His voice was gruff.
“Welcome home. I missed you, too.” I whispered.
Our eyes locked, and something passed between us. I couldn’t identify it, but it was powerful. Almost as if we…he…
Could he?
Jon jerked his head to the side and broke away from the intimate moment.
No, of course not, Daisy. Just friends, remember?
Always.
After turning the last three pieces of chicken, I was almost finished making dinner.
Jon’s clean, masculine scent surrounded me as he stepped close to my back. “Why is it so hot in here?” His finger traced along my neck, and I shivered. “You’re sweating…” He paused and then his voice dropped even lower. “But now you have goose bumps?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question since it was his touch that caused my reaction. His presence made my body do all sorts of odd things and made me think about things. Things I hadn’t experienced but would like to very much.
“I’m off to babysit the Wilson kids!” Delilah sang out as she skipped into the kitchen.
Jon and I jumped apart. Grabbing the platter of cooled drumsticks, I held it out in front of me.
“Chicken?” My voice was high-pitched and shrill.
Delilah grabbed a leg and took a big bite. “Yum!” She threw back a wave as she hustled out the kitchen door.
“Flower?” My dad’s voice boomed out. He and my mom walked into the kitchen hand in hand. “We’re going to the movies. Gotta beat this heat. You comin’?”
I shook my head. They were too stinking cute, still holding hands after all these years. “I made dinner.”
Mom smiled at Jon. “Welcome back. You’ll stay and eat with Daisy, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” Jon agreed.
“Pack a picnic or something. It’s way too hot to eat in here.” Mom complained as she and Dad hurried out the door.
And we were alone.
I tugged on one of my braids, wrapping the end around my finger. I pulled my long hair into two low pigtails and braided them to keep them out of the way while cooking.
“Do you want to go somewhere? Picnic? I should probably change,” I said, my nerves overtaking my ability to speak coherently.
Jon glanced at my legs and smirked. “Don’t even think about changing. You look…” He grunted and then balled his hands into fists at his side.
I looked down. Cutoff jean shorts and a faded, old, white ribbed tank top. My bra was nude colored, blending in with my skin. I gave plain Jane a new meaning.
“Let’s eat on the porch.” I handed Jon a plate, and he loaded it with green beans, chicken, and a biscuit I baked earlier. I made myself a plate, and he carried both of them out to the table on our screened in porch.
I followed, grabbing myself water and a beer for him. The screened in porch attached to our house was one of my favorite spots. My parents scrimped and saved to pay for it, but never regretted the sacrifice. There was a large wrought iron table off to one side that could seat all the members of our family. On the other side of the porch, there was a sitting area with rattan furniture covered in colorful cushions and pillows. We used a large ceiling fan to cool the area.
Jon sat on the couch and placed our plates on top of a small rattan table. He was relaxed, sitting with his arm draped along the back of the couch. As I walked onto the porch, the difference in temperature from our sweltering home was shocking. The cool breeze made my nipples pucker, which I was afraid could be seen through my cotton bra and thin tank.
Jon seemed to set his gaze right where I’d feared, because he stiffened and sat forward, his elbows on his knees, head low. Yup, he noticed
. Embarrassment should have been what I felt. Thrilled was what I experienced. God, why was I torturing myself? I handed Jon his beer and sat next to him.
He took a long pull from his beer bottle. “Thanks, Daisy. This all looks outstanding.”
Outstanding? Since when was Jon so formal? I snuck a glance in his direction, wondering what was going on inside his head. Nothing gave his thoughts away except a slight pink tinge to the tips of his ears.
“Dig in,” I encouraged, pulling my plate closer.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Jon spoke. “Tell me your plans for culinary school. You have to do something with this talent.”
I wiped my hands and mouth with a napkin and placed my plate on the table. Curling my legs underneath me, I faced Jon. “Well, Mom and Dad are pushing me to apply to The Art Institute of Indiana. They’d be thrilled if I lived at home and got my associates degree from there.”
Jon swallowed his bite of biscuit. “And what do you want?”
“Does it matter, Jon? My parents know that in the end, I’ll do what they ask. I always do.” My shoulders sagged, and my lips turned down into a frown.
Jon narrowed his eyes. “It does matter, very much. Your parents need you to prove to them that you’re ready to leave home. You have the rest of this year to do just that. If you could go to school anywhere, where would it be?” Jon sipped his beer and studied me.
I chewed on my bottom lip. Ah, there were so many choices. “Okay, I think it would be the International Culinary Center in New York City. It used to be called The French Institute. Bobby Flay and Christina Tosi are famous alumni. Cooking icons like Jacques Pepin teach classes.” I sighed. “It would be amazing to learn from them and to live in a city like New York.”
Jon cocked his head to the side. “So go for it. Apply.” He finished off the food on his plate while I thought about what he said.
I sat up, unfolding my legs and placing my feet on the floor. “That would be a waste of time and money. Mom and Dad would have a fit if I even uttered the words ‘New York.’” My heart raced at the thought. Confrontation was not something I enjoyed. “What about you? Where are you applying for law school?”
