Page 13 of The Right Time

“What the …” I stare down into my palm, expecting to see blood. When I don’t, I look up into the hornet’s nest of hair to find the culprit. A freaking red rose.

“My bad. You’re okay,” she answers for me. I’m anything but okay. “How do you like it? I picked it out just for you. Do you find it romantic? A red rose is the most passionate flower in the world.”

It takes all my self-control not to steal a glance at Adrienne. It’s unnecessary—she can read my mind. She knows what I think of roses, especially red ones.

“He loves flowers, don’t you, Lucas?” Adrienne’s voice is full of a lightness that Jasmine will recognize, but it also carries an undertone of warning just for my ears. Silence fills the doorway for a beat before I respond.

I nod. “Love them to death, apparently,” I start, pivoting slightly to take in Adrienne. She has a smirk locked and loaded, waiting for what she’s hoping is a smart retort from me. I hate to disappoint her, but the look on her face will be so worth it. “Most people think roses are the most romantic flower in the world. Me, I’m partial to daisies.” My gaze captures the momentary look of surprise in her wide eyes, scanning up to make note of the single daisy pushed at the side of her bun. I take my time, my eyes taking a slow sweep of her—the stylish top, the tight yet comfortable pants, the open-toed flats. On my return trip, I pause and take in her attempt to hide. She tilts her chin down slightly, the corner of her lips ticking up for a heartbeat, a tint of color rushing to her cheek as her hand adjusts the daisy in her hair. A unique flower for a unique woman. The definition of true beauty.

Bullseye.

“Flowers have never been my thing.” Trent speaks, breaking the mood. “I guess I’m going to have to study up.”

Adrienne hooks her arm into Trent’s. “Stick close to me. I’ll teach you everything you’ll ever want to know. Shall we?”

The pair—because I refuse to call them a couple—steps around me, and I turn to watch. Trent has his hand placed on her lower back again. He leans over and whispers something to her I can’t make out. She shrieks a laugh before giving his arm a playful smack.

I’ve seen Adrienne on dates before. I’ve even set her up a few times. And Trent is only being polite and helping me out, yet I find myself battling with a green monster I’ve never had to face before.

“I can’t believe I’m going on a date with Lucas Hobbs.” Jasmine’s words catch me by surprise. I’ve already forgotten about her.

I bend my arm at the elbow, and she slips her hand through it, and I mutter, “Me neither.”

She imitates Adrienne’s cackle. While Adrienne’s was impromptu and genuine, Jasmine’s sounds forced and insincere. The other difference between us is that what I whispered to Jasmine wasn’t a joke.

Chapter Nine

Adrienne

“What am I doing wrong?” Jasmine tugs at my wrist from across the table the second the boys turn their backs.

She delivers the question with a mixture of frustration and desperation. She’s ignored every piece of advice I’ve given up to now, and it has been a disaster, but I’m not even sure she has noticed. “It’ll be fine. Like Trent said, Lucas is just hungry. Once he gets some food into his system, he’ll spark right up.” I try to ease her burden, knowing if I dump the truth on her, she’ll spiral out of control.

“Start by putting on your glasses. You nearly ordered a cemetery plot.” I point to the ads on the bottom of the menu.

Jasmine scrambles to open her clutch. “That’s ‘cause I’m getting buried here. Can you help a sister out?” She slips on her glasses, adjusting the rose in her hair.

“Now, isn’t that better? Glasses suggest intelligence.”

“Nope, they scream broken eyes,” she mutters and scans the menu. “Wow, I was about to order a tooth whitening for dessert. I’m such a disaster.”

I feel for Jasmine. She moved to Mesa after graduation for a job. Work isn’t the issue; she’s kicking butt at her job. She’s struggling to blossom socially, the opposite of how she lived in college.

Jasmine lowers her head onto one shoulder and focuses her attention on Lucas. I steal a quick glance; Lucas is filling a plate with slices of fresh-baked turkey. Trent is nowhere to be seen. Lucas steps around two kids in a tug-of-war battle for a turkey leg, and a joyous smile rushes across his handsome face. He spins around the kids, scoops up a heaping spoonful of corn stuffing, and forgoes the rest of the table, pivoting toward the salad bar. I recognize this move; he’s making my plate. I load my stuffing with raisins and slices of green apples. Lucas teases me about it but always prepares it just the way I like it.

“When he comes back, find a way to mention your mom’s poodle. Lucas loves dogs.” I give her a get-out-of-jail-free card.

“Bark Twain? She hates me,” Jasmine bites back.

“Don’t tell him that last part,” I lobby. “Don’t force things. Relax and be…” I want to say yourself, but that’s exactly who she’s been. “Fun.” I straighten my back as Lucas skips toward the table. He holds the plate high over his right shoulder as if he’s a professional waiter, a bright smile on his face, eyes glued to mine.

Lucas has always been a handsome, dreamy-eyed, and an ever-present inner joy in his spirit type of guy. It’s ridiculously attractive, and every second you spend in his presence, you want to extend for another and another and another.

I bite my lower lip to prevent the giggle that builds in my chest. It’s the goofy, relaxed, I can be all I am around you Lucas I love so much. In a restaurant full of people, officially on a date with another woman, he remains what he always has been—my Lucas.

“Here’s your triple A Thanksgiving plate for one,” he jokes, kneeling by my side of the table, slipping the plate in front of me.

I scan the perfection that’s the plate, one tiny dot of cranberry sauce, the size of a dime, in the center. No one on the planet knows me the way Lucas Hobbs does. My chest warms from his kindness, his thoughtfulness, as I realize how much I’ve missed the most perfect best friend in the world.

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