If this is love, p.19
If This Is Love, page 19
“You see them?”
“Of course. They’re my family.”
This angers me, but I don’t let Indie see it. Fletcher said he’s always in touch with them, always looking for Indie. I think I’ve always known it was a lie, but I couldn’t deal with the truth: He could find her, he just didn’t want to find her; he wanted to keep her away from me.
“Are you visiting someone?” I ask.
“No. Well, sort of. I work at a flower shop.” She lifts her arm, looking at her watch. “In fact, I have two more deliveries. I need to keep going.”
“Yeah, of course.”
There’s an awkward pause in our conversation. We look at each other, smile, then look away.
“Well, uh …” She forces her gaze to mine again.
I slide my hands out of my pockets. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Oh,” she laughs. “Probably not a good idea.”
My hands go right back into my pockets. “You’re seeing someone, that’s right. I don’t wanna—”
“No. I mean …” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea because …” Her nose wrinkles, and she bites her lip. “We’re not that good at just hugging.”
I blink a few times. Is she really saying what I think she’s saying? I don’t blush easily, but Indie’s managed to bring heat to my face. I wet my lips and glance over her shoulder, scrounging every last bit of confidence I can find. “I get it.” I shrug. “You don’t trust yourself. I mean, it’s been four years, but I’m pretty unforgettable.”
“Pretty full of yourself is what you are, Milo Odell.”
I smirk, and it feels good even if she can still see me blushing like a pathetic teenager witnessing a pair of titties for the first time.
“But really…” again she looks at her watch “…I have to go.”
“You should give me your number or something.”
Her eyes narrow. “Did you get a divorce?”
“No.”
“Did your wife die?”
“No.”
She bites her lips together and stares at her feet for a second before pivoting and waltzing toward the door. “It was truly nice seeing you, Milo.”
That’s it? She appears out of nowhere after four years, and I don’t get a hug. An invite for coffee? Or her phone number?
26
COWBOY CONFIDENCE
INDIE
“Can you make one more delivery?” Lincoln asks as soon as I push through the shop's front door.
I hear him—sort of.
I saw MILO!
And I tried to play it cool.
My heart nearly crashed and died … bleeding at his feet.
I didn’t think I had a zero chance of running into him. However, with a population of over one-point-three million, and my working in a floral shop and delivering to private homes and hospitals, the chances felt close to zero.
He was nervous. And he blushed. I have never seen Milo Odell blush. He fumbled words and couldn’t stop grinning. It didn’t feel like four years; it felt like four seconds.
Same Milo, just … more.
Bulkier muscles.
Thicker beard, but still well-kept.
Sexy jeans.
Same hat.
And that smile.
It was all too much.
“Can I hug you?”
Gah! I couldn’t hug him.
I’ve never been able to hug Milo Odell and willingly let him go. And today would not have been the exception.
“Hello? Earth to Indie?”
I glance up at Lincoln, my elbows on the counter and my face cradled in my hands. “Huh?”
He laughs. “I asked if you could make one more delivery?”
“Sure.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I shake my head and stand straight. “Nothing. I just saw an old friend at the hospital.”
He lifts an eyebrow, removing the thorns from the roses. “Should I be jealous?”
“No. Why would you ask that?”
“Because of that look on your face.”
“What look?” I check the delivery on the counter for a card.
“It’s the look you have after sex.”
“What?” It’s my turn to blush.
“Listen, I know what we have is casual, but I’m not seeing anyone else, so if you—”
“I’m not seeing anyone else. And I didn’t have sex with my friend at the hospital. That’s just weird. And the answer to your question is no, you shouldn’t be jealous.”
“You sure?”
I lift onto my toes and kiss his soft cheek, inhaling his rose scent. “Positive.”
Lie. Lies. Liar.
“Can I see you tonight?”
Lincoln’s jealous whether he should be or not, and he has a primal male urge to claim me. I don’t blame him, but I can’t be with him tonight after seeing Milo Odell. I need a minute to gather my thoughts about our encounter. Sort through these complicated feelings.
“Sorry. Girls’ night.”
“Since when?” He frowns.
“Since I invited my girlfriends out for drinks.” I grin and head toward the door with the final delivery for the day. “See you in the morning.”
“I’m available tonight … even if it’s late.”
Yep. He needs to mark his territory.
“Okay. But really … I’ll see you in the morning.”
It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve found a life.
A job.
Friends.
And friends with benefits.
I’ve found intimacy, and I even allowed myself to enjoy it.
So why am I so miserable? It’s been three weeks. I should have hugged him, I think. Or at least given him my phone number so he could call me and … what? Tell me about his marriage?
Seeing Milo didn’t set my heart back four years. It didn’t rip open every scar. But it tore a few small holes, leaving me bleeding again. I’m not sure I can walk away from him with my heart completely unscathed.
“Bailey’s not coming in today, so I have to set up for the wedding,” Lincoln grumbles about his sister, scuffing his feet along the floor and sipping his coffee.
“Good morning to you too.” I arrange the last bouquet for the outdoor stand.
He gives me a half grin. “Sorry. I hate weddings. That’s all.” He stares through the glass doors of the refrigerator. “Wow. The bride’s bouquet looks …”
I smile. “Like a work of art? I completed it at six this morning.”
“I was going to say it looks like I might keep you around after all.” He turns and cozies up behind me, arms around my waist, face in my neck. “Now, if I could just convince you to stay over at my place. It’s been forever.”
I giggle and squirm; his unshaven face tickles my neck. “It hasn’t been forever.”
“Nearly a month.”
I roll my eyes. “Three weeks. And I see you’re keeping count. Should I be worried that you don’t know what casual means?”
He sips his coffee and raises an eyebrow. “No. I think it’s you who’s keeping count. You might be a little too casual.”
With a shrug, I redirect my gaze to the last bouquet. “I track my period. That’s all.”
“And are you having your period?”
With a laugh, I carry the bouquet outside and place it in the last slot on the display. “You never ask a woman about her period.”
“Fine. Then I’ll ask you to help me load the van and give me a quickie before I have to leave and you have to flip the open sign.”
“Can’t …” I open the fridge door to help load the wedding flowers. “I’m on my period.”
“You’re so sadistic,” he grumbles while I giggle.
Lincoln spends the morning setting up for the wedding across town, and I watch the shop, take last-minute orders, and call in Russ, Lincoln’s retired dad, to make today’s deliveries.
“It’s just three today. They’re all in the box on the counter. Thanks, Russ,” I say when the door chimes.
Russ doesn’t respond.
I pull off my gloves and turn toward the front of the store. “You’re not Russ.”
Milo removes his hat and grins. “Not to my knowledge. I’m just a guy who’s visited every floral shop in Dallas over the past three weeks.” He glances around and back out the front door. “You’re not exactly in the safest part of town.”
My heart’s doing that happy dance that makes it hard to speak, that makes me sound breathless. “Cheap rent,” I manage to say without a full-on dog pant.
He sets one of the bouquets from the sidewalk display on the counter.
“You’ve been searching all of Dallas for this particular bouquet?” I wrap it in paper for him.
His gaze slides to mine while he digs money from his pocket, and a tiny grin plays on his lips. “So it would seem.”
“Your wife will love this. It’s filled with fragrant hyacinth and ranunculus.”
Milo tosses a hundred-dollar bill onto the counter. I open the register to get his change.
“Keep it,” he says.
I set his change next to the bouquet. “You don’t tip a florist unless we deliver, and you feel generous.”
He frowns at the money for a few seconds before folding it and shoving it back into his pocket. “It’s for my sister, not my wife.”
My giddy heart slows to a dull, pulsing thud in my chest. “Sister?”
“She’s in the hospital. That’s why I was there when we ran into each other.”
“Sister?” I’m not sure how many times I have to say the word before it makes sense. Maybe never. “I didn’t … know … I mean, why didn’t you ever mention your sister?”
He lifts a shoulder, eyes narrowed a fraction while he stares at the wrapped flowers on the counter. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Milo’s lips twist. “It’s complicated.”
I start to speak but clamp my mouth shut. I want to say, “What’s not complicated?” But I refrain from going there. Milo has never shared his life with me, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get at my stupid heart for always having such a visceral reaction to his nearness.
“Well, I hope she likes the flowers.” I can’t keep all the bitterness out of my voice, but I do my best. It’s not the least bit soothing, but I still chant in my head: Not my circus, not my monkeys.
I escaped the fucked-up world of the Ellingtons. Even if Milo Odell still carries around a big chunk of my heart in his pocket, I can’t go back. Not physically. Not emotionally.
Maybe he has ten siblings, four wives, six kids, and a pet crocodile. It’s none of my business anymore.
He picks up the bouquet and brings it to his nose before pulling a ranunculus. “Can we get a cup of coffee or something?”
“I’m the only one here. No coffee breaks for me.”
Twisting his body, he inspects the front door. “Sign says you close at four. How about a cup of decaf at five?”
“I eat dinner at five.”
“Then have dinner with me.” He leans forward, slipping the flower behind my ear.
I stiffen, suffocated by his nearness. And leather …
He grins before slipping his hat back onto his head.
God … he’s only gotten sexier.
“It’s just dinner.”
“What if I have a boyfriend?”
“What if I have a wife?”
Our gazes lock, a silent standoff. I can’t imagine the day when I can share space with Milo and not feel like he has more power over me than any other human.
More than Ruthie.
More than Fletcher.
More than Pauline or Jolene.
Power isn’t taken; it’s given. It’s too intangible to steal.
When Ruthie died, it was Milo’s hand that took mine. It was he who fed me. It was his arms that held me, that made me feel safe. He didn’t carry me. He watched me stumble my way into womanhood. He didn’t give me strength; he showed me strength. When I gave him my trust, I gave him power over me.
As we stand here, I ask myself, do you trust him? And if the answer’s still yes, then Milo Odell still has tremendous power over me.
He’s baited me with a piece of his past—a sister. I should say no. I need to say no. I absolutely should not say yes to dinner with Milo Odell.
With a quick nod toward the window that causes him to glance over his shoulder, I say, “Right there. They have the best tacos in Dallas. I’ll be there at five. I won’t wait to order, and I'm leaving when I’m done eating.”
Milo faces me again, a slow grin blooming along his face while he tips his hat to me. “Five o’clock.”
Where is the word-fumbling man I encountered at the hospital three weeks ago? Nowhere to be found. This guy struts out of the shop, confidence rolling off him in crashing waves with not so much as a glance back at me.
This isn’t good.
27
TACOS IN SILENCE
MILO
I check my watch while Fletcher yammers on about someone stealing a horse. One fucking horse. Not even a good horse.
“Someone’s going to pay for coming onto my property, breaking down my fence, and stealing my fucking horse. No excuses. No second chances. Just put a bullet in their head. Do you hear me?”
It’s four fifteen. Traffic’s gonna be a bitch.
“Milo?”
“Yeah?” I jerk my attention back to him.
“Is there someplace more important that you need to be? You keep checking your watch instead of answering me. Did you hear me? Shoot to kill. Understood?”
It’s fucked-up that the man who saved me from doing time for murder has spent so much time training me to kill people.
“Shoot to kill.” I nod, stand, and make my way out of his office.
“Oh, Milo?”
“Yeah?” I turn.
“I’m glad Annie’s doing well. She’s a fighter.”
I nod slowly. I don’t trust him.
“I had her transferred to a safe place where well-qualified people will continue to care for her.”
“A safe place? Where?”
He laughs, and I’m reminded that he’s more monster than man. “You don’t get the keys to the castle just yet.”
“I want to see her.”
“You did.”
“I saw her in the fucking hospital a handful of times.” My voice escalates while I make two hard fists at my sides.
“You’re welcome.” He smirks.
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked,” I say between clenched teeth.
“Good.” He shifts his attention to his phone while he leans back in his leather chair. “Keep doing it, and Annie will be fine. You’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine because of you, Milo. You’re a goddamn hero.”
It takes everything I have, every last shred of self-control to keep from planting the muzzle of my gun between his eyes. When I close the door to my truck, I blow out a long breath and glance at my watch. I’m going to be late.
On my way to the taco joint, Jolene calls me. It’s tempting to ignore her call. But now that we have a child together, I have to take all calls. I can ignore her, but I can’t ignore Benjamin.
“Yeah?”
“Milo, where are you? I just saw you pull out of the driveway. Leah is sick, and I have court tomorrow.”
“I’ll be home by tomorrow.”
“Don’t be this way. I have so many files to go through tonight.”
“He’ll sleep.”
“But if he wakes up—”
“Then soothe him back to sleep.”
“Dammit, Milo. When will you be home?”
“I have a meeting.”
“Where?”
I roll my eyes while barreling down the road toward Dallas.
“Turn around and come get Benjamin. You can take him with you.”
“No. My meeting is not in the best part of town. The last thing I need is a baby with me. Call your mom or have Fletcher watch him. I’ll be there when I get there.”
“Milo—”
I end the call. If she has so much work, then she’d better get to working instead of wasting time whining to me.
Twenty minutes late, I park in front of the taco joint. The lights are off at the floral shop, and I have no idea what car Indie drives. My patience is gone. If she’s not here, I’m going to lose it. I need her to be here, especially after Fletcher has taken my sister again.
“Hi. Did you have a to-go order, or will you be dining in?”
I barely hear the man behind the counter. Indie snags my attention, and she doesn’t know I’m here. With a book in her hand, one knee is drawn toward her chest. She scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip, enthralled in the book before her instead of finishing her half-eaten plate of tacos.
“Sir?”
I shake my head slowly without taking my eyes off Indie. “I’m meeting someone …” I trail off while making my way to the back of the restaurant.
Burnt fajita veggies and the aroma of seared meat fill the air, along with the sizzle of hot plates being served around me.
Indie glances up at me as I approach and presses her lips together, but it doesn’t completely hide her smile. “You’re late.”
“Not really. I’ve been watching you, getting up the nerve to invite myself to eat at your table.”
She giggles, marking her place in the book and setting it aside. I’ve spent more time with Indie than I have with Annie. I know her better. She’s the only person on this earth who makes me feel at home. She’s the only person who erases a lousy day with nothing more than a smile.
“Well, I’m about done, but you’re welcome to sit with me for a few minutes.”
I pull out a chair, resisting the urge to lean forward and brush my lips along her cheek. Resisting the urge to draw a long breath at her neck just to see if she still smells like lavender.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waiter asks.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Her drink or her meal? She’s just drinking water.”
