Lavender & Mistletoe

by Donna Kauffman

  “Perfect,” Chey said, clapping her hands together. “Come on and get your boots, Avery,” Chey said, her grip on Avery’s hand making it clear Avery wasn’t going to have a say in the matter. “She’ll be back by the time you’re done with Foster.”

  Avery managed to yank her hand free the moment the two were clear of the barn. “I might not be any kind of font of relationship experience, but could you have been more obvious?” Avery said in a whisper that was just short of a hiss.

  “If I left this up to you, you’d still be making pie charts while he was already halfway around the globe.”

  “Methodical is good,” Avery grumbled. “And it would be a flow chart, or maybe a Venn Diagram.” She glanced at Chey, her frown already trembling on the verge of a smile.

  “Ha!” Chey said, knowing her plan had worked.

  Avery trotted along behind her. “At least there’s one part of this process I apparently won’t have to worry about.”

  “Which is?”

  “What to wear. It appears the only thing I’ll have to worry about when it comes to dressing for a date with Ben Campbell is picking clothes I don’t mind getting completely trashed.”

  Chey laughed and Avery joined her, but inside her head, she was thinking, now if I can just figure out a way to ensure it’s only my boots and coats getting banged up.

  Chapter 6

  “That one?” Ben squinted as the sun reflected off the snow-heavy boughs. “It’s too—”

  “It’s perfect,” Avery said, standing beside him, her hand propped on her forehead to block the sun as she stared up at the magnificent spruce.

  “Exactly.”

  She turned to look at him. “How can a Christmas tree be too perfect?”

  “I’m not saying it has to be a Charlie Brown tree, but it should look, I don’t know…real.”

  Avery laughed and reached out to run her gloved hand over one of the boughs, sending the snow flying in a powdery veil. “It doesn’t get any more real than this.”

  “The trunk is almost ruler straight,” he said.

  “Thus ensuring it will look perfect from every angle. Do you know how hard that is to find in nature? It’s going to be in the front room, across from the fireplace.” She looked back to the tree. “It’s going to look spectacular.”

  He walked over to a nearby balsam fir, which was almost as tall, but more plump than regal. “How about this one?”

  “Too bushy.”

  “You say bushy, I say jolly.”

  She giggled at that. “Only surface ornaments will show. And the top is crooked.”

  “That’s what angels with big satin skirts are for.”

  Avery snort-laughed at that, but firmly shook her head.

  “Okay, what about this one?” He walked over to an eastern white pine. “Short needles, plenty of space between the boughs.”

  “Too scruffy. It looks…forlorn.”

  “Exactly,” Ben said. “That’s the perfect tree to get. The one no one else wants. Then you take it home and transform it from forlorn to festive.” He pulled a mock pout. “Could you really just walk away and leave it behind?” He bent his had so it rested on one bough, and reached his arms around it, as if hugging it.

  She giggled and snort-laughed at the same time. “It’s not a cut tree. It’s not going to die if we leave it here.”

  Ben looked at the tree. “I tried,” he told it. “She looks all cute and innocent but don’t let that fool you. She’s heartless. Don’t worry,” he said, patting one of the boughs. “I won’t forget you.”

  Avery shook her head, laughing, and impossibly charmed.

  “How is it that there are so many different kinds of pines back here, and in pretty orderly rows?” Ben asked.

  “We think at one time someone tried to start a tree farm out here,” Avery told him. “Maybe before the lavender was first planted. We’re not sure. Vivi was doing some research last Christmas, but we’ve been so busy getting the farm up and running, we never got any further with that.”

  “Have you considered getting back here and grooming them, or hiring someone to do it?” He looked down the row they were standing in. “You could open up as tree farm for the holidays. Be a good off-season enterprise.”

  “Actually…no, we hadn’t,” she said, surprised by the suggestion, but immediately seeing the potential. “You’re right, though. That’s definitely worth considering.” She looked at the trees in a whole new light now, and was already formulating a chart in her mind on how to present the plan to the rest of the foursome.

  “How did you come to choose lavender?”

  “Oh, we didn’t. The fields had already been planted years ago. It never developed into any kind of enterprise though. The owner at that time died and the descendants just left it to run to seed, having no interest in the place. March House sat empty for almost a decade until Vivi inherited it. It was an overgrown mess when we first came out. Took a tremendous amount of work just to clear it out to see what we had, what more we needed to plant. I’d been researching all the varieties of lavender from the time we’d decided to move out here, so we planted some other species that would lend themselves well to the products we wanted to make from them. That’s still a work in progress. It will take a few years to get the farm running the way we have planned. Then from there I’m sure we’ll continue to make changes as we see how things go.”

  “So, this is Vivi’s place?”

  “It belongs to the four of us. Vivi inherited the property, the house, but we each have a stake in it now.”

  “How did the four of you come to be together?” He lifted a hand. “You don’t have to answer that. I was just curious. You all seem to come from such different walks of life. I mean, I haven’t met Hannah, but I know she’s an artist. Children’s book illustrator, once upon a time, so I hear. Vivi and Broadway, Chey and barrel racing, the rodeo circuit.”

  “Have you been checking up on us, doctor?” Avery asked, smiling, but surprised nonetheless.

  “Let’s just say you got my curiosity going. It’s a small town. So, I didn’t have to work too hard to find out a few things.”

  Avery nodded. “And what did you hear about me?”

  “Nothing much. Just that you’re brilliant and the brains behind the chemistry that turns lavender plants into all the scented products you four are manufacturing and selling.”

  She raised her hand. “Mad lavender scientist, that’s me.”

  “So, how did you go from library science to lavender science?”

  “I didn’t,” she said, smiling. “Lavender science found me. After my parents died, I was really out to sea. I’d lived a pretty sheltered life, so it was a big change on a lot of fronts. I couldn’t get past the idea that I’d let them down, well my mom, mostly, and that they died thinking I wasn’t going to live up to my potential.”

  His expression sobered. “Avery, I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m not trying to be maudlin, nor am I looking for…well, anything.”

  He stepped closer. “It’s not that. I didn’t think that. I just…I didn’t mean to dredge up difficult stuff. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  For once, Avery didn’t stop and think things through. She took a page out of Chey’s playbook and simply went with her gut. She looked up into those beautiful green eyes and said, “I don’t mind the questions, but are you curious about me because I’m a curiosity? Or because you want to know me better?”

  She realized as she said it that she wanted to know him better. Wanted to know how he handled his above average smarts, how his parents felt about him traveling all over, not settling in one place, if they’d pushed him to become a doctor. She wanted to know if he’d ever been in love, and what he saw when he thought about his future. Did he want someone in it for life? Or just for now? And, as her gaze
fell to his mouth, she also accepted that she was dying to know what it would feel like if he put his mouth on hers.

  When her gaze lifted back to his, she experienced another first. His eyes had grown dark, and she might not have seen it firsthand before, but she understood that what she was looking at was desire. For her. Desire that might even match her own. Dear Lord, have mercy.

  “Avery,” he said, his voice rougher now, quieter. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lifted back to her eyes.

  Her lips parted on a sigh. What would he taste like? What would it feel like to kiss him, to be kissed by him? To feel those big hands of his on her? There was this pooling of heat and need and want in parts of her body that hadn’t ever experienced such a primal response before. She would love to give it some deeper consideration, sink in and try to capture exactly what was happening to her, catalog it for future analysis. But the muscles between her thighs were clenching so hard there was actual pain, and all she wanted right now was to assuage that tight ball of need. Primal indeed.

  His head was already lowering, but she lifted up on her toes, wrapped her gloved hands around biceps that turned out to be rock hard, and pulled him down so they could meet halfway. She didn’t care that he was leaving, didn’t care that he hadn’t answered her question. All she cared about was answering her own questions.

  His lips were warm, not soft or hard exactly, more a perfect cushion for hers. He let her kiss him. In fact, he seemed to go kind of still as her first fast, hard kiss changed to something softer, more exploratory with her second.

  She moaned softly, as she let the wave of sensations race through her and wash over her all at the same time. Her body seemed to come alive in an almost euphoric awakening. It was both startling and thrilling.

  Then his hands were on her hips, sliding around her lower back and lifting her just up off the tips of her toes, braced against his broad chest, so he could shift his mouth on hers, part her lips, and kiss her back. He took her mouth slowly, and she felt like her entire body was being taken when he slid his tongue between her lips and into the dark recesses of her mouth. Her body, so clamoring for full contact with his, most especially where the ache was the most severe, seemed to open to this sweet, seductive invasion, and she wanted to feel him push inside of her in other places, wanted all of him, inside all of her, with a sudden, fierce hunger that would have shocked her if she’d been able to separate thought from deed in that moment.

  She had no idea what she was doing, or supposed to do, only what she wanted to do. And that was take him inside her mouth, hold him there, then discover what it would feel like to do the same to him, be held by him. He groaned, a deep, rumbling sound of satisfaction when she slid her tongue between his lips, tasted him, felt him close around her and pull. All of it was glorious, and she realized the euphoria she’d initially experienced was merely the tip of the…well, of the tongue.

  She was trembling now, her legs shaky, her heart pounding, her every need and desire wishing they could get all these layers of clothing off of them both so she could feel the heat of his bare skin against hers. That would be true euphoria. She couldn’t even let her mind go to what it would feel like to have his weight on hers and feel him enter her, claim that part of her. Glorious.

  She turned her head away, panting heavily, knowing she needed to slow down, ease this intensity, if only long enough for her to get a handle on her own reactions, gain some control over herself.

  He held her against him with one arm and tipped her face back to his with a gentle touch to her chin. She felt an enormous sense of relief in seeing the same stunned look in his eyes that he had to be seeing in hers. “Avery, I’m—”

  “Don’t say you’re sorry.” Please, don’t be sorry. “That was…incredible,” she whispered, her throat still tight, her pulse still pounding. “You don’t have to ever do it again, but please don’t be sorry for it. I’ve always wondered,” she added, almost to herself. “And that…” She shook her head, then let out a little laugh. “Well, I know now.”

  His expression changed then, from one of concern after she’d so abruptly ended the kiss, to surprise, then a smile of his own teasing the corners of his mouth. Oh, that mouth.

  Now that she knew all the glorious things it could do, could make her feel, how was she supposed to act around him? How would things ever be normal? How could she look at him and not want more? So very, very much more.

  “What do you know?” he asked, his voice all smoky, a quiet rumble.

  That thrilled her, too. He’d just taken her to the moon, but she’d taken him somewhere, too. How about that?

  “That it’s about chemistry, not method.” At his questioning look, she added, “You can study all the angles, and think if Man A and Woman B bring their mouths together just so, the result will be pleasurable. Only that’s not true and I couldn’t figure out why. Is it because the person makes you feel a certain way about them, so when your lips touch, some other power is at play that triggers some other kind of pleasure response? Or is it simple hormonal attraction and it doesn’t matter if you like, or even know the person?”

  The corners of his mouth curved up. “You’ve given this some thought.”

  She took the question seriously. “I have, yes. It fascinates me.”

  “You fascinate me,” he said, every bit as seriously.

  She felt warmth bloom in her cheeks, only it wasn’t embarrassment. It was joy. And that was a lovely discovery, too.

  “I would add that I’m sorry this was such a new discovery for you, because I don’t like to think you’ve been deprived of experiencing pleasurable kisses.” He smiled fully now, and her heart sped right back up again. He was just so damn beautiful. “But I’d be lying if I said there isn’t enormous satisfaction in being the one you got to discover it with.”

  “I’m thinking if I’d known it could feel like that, I might have worked a little harder on my personal research instead of becoming an observer.” She smiled up into his eyes. “On the other hand, I can’t say I’m sorry I waited.”

  “One of the things that first got my attention with you was that you make no bones about being who you are, big brain and all.”

  She laughed at that. “I’m not sure I could be any other way.” She paused, then said, “Well, that’s not entirely true, I guess. I got teased about it when I was little, and I could have taken a different route, tried harder to fit in, but fit into what? I just didn’t get it. I guess I’m not wired that way. I’d just shrug and tell them I can’t help it that I can think fast. There are tons of things I can’t do. I can’t throw a ball straight, I’m a terrible artist, and I also apparently suck at napkin folding.”

  “How will you go on?” he asked dryly.

  “Right? Such a disappointment.” They both smiled. “But what I’d say to the other kids then is what I say to other adults now. We all have our things. Things we’re naturally really good at and things we have absolutely no aptitude for. So, they can go be amazing athletes or painters or folders of napkins, and I’ll think real fast and remember everything I ever do and see.” She shrugged. “It’s just how we’re wired. It’s not like we can change it. So why would I pretend to be less smart any more than a natural athlete should pretend he or she can’t throw a ball? It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s a really great way to look at it,” he said.

  “I don’t know how else to look at it. I didn’t ask for my skill set any more than they did. I just use it, because it would be kind of silly not to. I mean, as long as you’re not being insufferable about your skills, just live your life.” She shrugged. “So that’s what I did. Do.”

  He stroked a finger down her cheek. “And yet, you didn’t keep yourself as your main research tool when it came to things like this?”

  She blushed again, only this time there might have been some embarrassment involved. “Acing a history test becau
se you can literally remember every word in the text book is one thing. It’s just there to use. It’s a tool. It only affects me. If I use it, I pass. If I don’t, I fail.”

  “Ah. But with this, there is another person involved. Feelings come into play.”

  “Exactly. The risk isn’t pass or fail but hurt, or possibly getting hurt. I discovered I didn’t really want to take those risks. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I didn’t want to be hurt. It seemed safer to satisfy my curiosity on the subject as an observer.”

  “You were nineteen when your parents died?”

  She nodded.

  “When did your…firsthand research happen? After?”

  She shook her head. “Before. I was eighteen and living on my own for the first time. Still on campus, mind you, but under a different roof from my parents. It seemed like the right time to experiment.”

  “And afterward?”

  She simply shook her head. “My life has been…all over the place since then. I knew I would try again someday. I just…hadn’t gotten there yet.”

  She was surprised when he gently tugged her in against his chest and simply wrapped his arms around her. She’d have told him she didn’t need him feeling sorry for her, but it felt so good, being wrapped up in him, and he’d instinctively wanted to give her comfort. That was a sweet, lovely thing. So, she accepted the comfort, grateful for it even as it made her heart tip even closer to the edge.

  “I’ll admit,” she said, her cheek pressed against his chest, “despite my ‘be yourself’ attitude, my first instinct, when things ended pretty disastrously, was to assume I should change my response in the future, so as not to deter my partner from wanting to be with me again.” She looked up at him. “In other words, be what he wanted me to be, rather than who I am.”

  “It’s a human instinct. We all want to be loved. But you didn’t go that route.”

  “In the end, I never gave myself the chance. But I knew being disingenuous wasn’t a good way to go. Because then what? You have to keep on being this person you are not? It seemed to set a flawed precedent.”