Page 21 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

“I guess we can both agree our parents deserve a little bit of joy and that this may not be the worst thing ever?”

She sighed and crossed her arms again. “I woke up to find your dad in our kitchen, wearing a bathrobe, making breakfast. Not once, but twice. I can’t just suddenly get used to that.”

He placed a hand over his eyes. “Please tell me he wasn’t.” He hadn’t even heard his dad leave the house the night before, and because he was used to Preston getting up early and leaving the house to do odd jobs around town, he never really questioned his dad’s whereabouts.

“The visions are burned into my brain now.” She tapped the side of her head.

Cyril placed a hand over his heart. “I’m sorry, but at least he was wearing a robe.”

“He doesn’t always wear one?”

“He’s big on...being free.”

Her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her heart. “Stop it.”

“I wish I could. I always ask if he’s dressed before entering a room. Honestly, that’s the worst part about living with him.”

She shook her head and laughed. “Thank god my mom doesn’t walk around naked.”

“For now. Who knows what she’ll do after the wedding?”

She gasped then placed a hand on his arm. “I said stop. I don’t need the image of both of them now.”

Cyril’s laughter caught in his throat. Her touch was light as a feather but branded him like scorching iron. When she pulled back, he had the urge to reach out and hold on to her hand. Pull her closer. See the smile on her face melt into something a lot more decadent and promising.

“Watch out!” a voice yelled a second before three kids on bikes hurried down the sidewalk.

Cyril grabbed Imani by the shoulders and pulled her out of the way. The air stirred as the kids whizzed by with shouts of “my bad.” The scent of something spicy with a hint of sweetness beneath filled his senses. Imani and whatever perfume she wore. The softness of her body pressed against his and the heat from her hands which had seared him before from the briefest touch now pressed against his chest and burned straight through him.

Their eyes met. Her lips parted with her quick breaths from the sudden movement. His stomach clenched as the urge to pull her even tighter into his embrace rammed him like a bull. He quickly pushed her away and took a step back.

“You good?”

She nodded. “Um...yeah. Thanks for getting me out of the way?” Her words came out more of a question than a statement.

He didn’t have to haul her against him like that. He could have just as easily taken her by the elbow, pulled her aside and kept full-body contact at a minimum. He’d reacted without thinking. That was the problem. He’d reacted to the impulse to hold her instead of remembering to keep his distance.

Embarrassment heated his face, neck and chest. He had to get away before he made even more of a fool of himself. “Yeah. So I’ll see you later. I forgot there’s something I need to do at the bar.”

“Um...sure.” She sounded breathless. Damn why did she have to sound like that. As if he’d kissed her, because that only made him want to kiss her and he had no business kissing Imani.

He turned to leave, when she called out, “Weren’t you picking up a book?”

He tossed up a hand but didn’t turn around. “I’ll get it later. I’m running late.” He hurried down the street. Ashamed that he’d pulled her against him, that he’d wanted to kiss her, that the press of his growing erection meant his body was reacting as if he had. He was trying to get on Imani’s good side. Hiding a growing erection from an innocent encounter was not the way to do that.

nine

Imani sat on a stool behind the register in her mother’s store and watched as Linda arranged a bouquet for delivery later that afternoon. It was a scene that had played out so often in her childhood that she’d gone back into the routine almost as if she’d never left. She couldn’t count the number of hours she’d spent after school and on weekends watching her mom put together flower arrangements from the elaborate to simple. Weddings, birthdays, anniversaries or just because, her mom’s flower shop was the place to go for flower arrangements in Peachtree Cove.

Nowadays, with the ease of sending prepackaged, box arrangements with the click of a button, her mom had managed to keep her shop open. Despite the hardships, Linda had overcome, survived and thrived. Imani was proud of her mom. Part of the reason why she didn’t want anyone to come in and threaten all that she’d built.

“I think you’ve got enough baby’s breath on that bouquet,” Imani said after watching Linda stuff another sprig of the tiny white flower on the arrangement of pink roses.

Linda sighed and shook her head. “Not when it comes to the flowers for Amanda Jones. Her favorite color is pink, and she adores baby’s breath. Says it reminds her of lace. So, her husband always asks for extra for their anniversary arrangement.”

“It didn’t say that on the order?” Imani knew because she’d gone through and read the orders for delivery that day.

“I’ve been putting together the arrangement for Mr. and Mrs. Jones for fifteen years. I don’t need to see that on the order.”

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