Page 12 of And Then Came You

A bark of laughter escapes my throat. “Sam is a nice guy, but he’s not my type. He wasn’t my type yesterday, and he still isn’t today. Don’t hold out hope for tomorrow.”

Another eye roll, but thankfully, she changes the subject, although I’m sure she’ll circle back to it again.

Sorry to disappoint you, Ramona, but there’s nothing brewing between Sam and me. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

Butterflies flit around me, hanging off the plants and perching on the sugar water soaked stick in my hand.

I’m thrilled that I escaped the convention for the afternoon. There were a few interesting course offerings, but after the Carl debacle, my soul needs peace.

Here, amid so much natural beauty, I’m finding my zen.

“Don’t move.”

My head jerks to the right, as a butterfly clinging to the brim of my hat flits away. Apparently, the deep voice startled us both. “Sam. I thought you had a photo shoot.”

“I did, but once it wrapped, I had two options: work out for the second time today or come here and bother you. I think I chose well.”

I break into a smile, chuckling at his self-assured expression. “I agree with your analysis.”

“Quite the outfit, Lexi.” His gaze runs the length of my body, and for a minute, I feel self-conscious about my choice of attire.

“Do I look ridiculous enough for you?”

I’m hardly the height of fashion—or sex appeal—in my floral sundress and wide-brimmed hat, but these dainty outfits always make me feel pretty. At least they did until Carl started making fun of my look, telling me the 1950s wanted their clothing back. Perhaps he had a point.

“You look lovely. Like a lady.”

“A ridiculous lady, to be fair.”

“You’re hung up on that term.”

“It fits. But I quite like being ridiculous. Normalcy is so overrated.” I hand him a stick. “Here. This is your magic wand to attract the butterflies.”

Instead of taking the stick, Sam pulls out his camera. “I came to watch you. You have fun. I’ll take the photos, ensure they have the proper amount of ridiculousness.”

“Works for me.” Walking to the other side of the enclosed garden, I hunker down, leaning in to study a swallowtail. With a bit of coaxing, she perches on my hat, and I continue my exploration.

Within five minutes, I have several of the critters attached to me—living, breathing artwork that chose me as their canvas. Laughter bubbles from my chest as they drink down the sweetened water, their delicate bodies belying their fierce independence.

My gaze slides over to Sam, his camera focused in my direction. “Are you really taking photos?”

Sam nods, staring at his phone. “I am.”

“Why?”

“Just for me.”

I close the distance between us, trying to get a look at his phone. “Can I see?”

“One day.”

What an ass. That’s as much as he’ll give me.

“Didn’t want to see it anyway,” I counter, earning a laugh in retort.

“Sure, you didn’t.”

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