Page 74 of Lotus

Oliver gifts me his knee-weakening smile, dimpled and bright.

Before he walks away, I call out one more time. “My parents host an annual Christmas party the weekend after Thanksgiving. It’s kind of this big event with family, co-workers, and close friends.” I watch the way Oliver’s eyes glint as he waits for me to finish. “I’d love for you to come with me this year.”

“Oh.” His thoughts scatter with the breeze that sweeps through, stealing our breath, and he’s silent for two beats too long. I’m about to take back the offer, wondering if I overstepped, when he finally responds. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Really?”

A subdued grin. “Really.”

“Great.” I can’t help my own smile from stretching my cheeks as anticipation blooms in my belly. “Stop by around four P.M. next Saturday. Clem and Poppy will ride with us.”

“I look forward to it. Thank you for the invitation.”

Oliver spares a final glance to the woods edging his backyard, then sends me a nod.

I smile my goodbye, my own gaze pulling to the trees behind me after he’s rounded the corner. I squint my eyes through the hazy morning, a quick breath escaping me.

Athena sits beside a Cypress tree, watching from a distance.

And when I blink, she is gone.

E I G H T E E N

I’M APPLYING MY FINAL STROKE OF MASCARAwhen Poppy shouts from below, “Your nice man-friend is here!”

Screwing the cap back on the tube and spritzing myself with a candy cane body mist to match the red and white stripes on my dress, I give myself a final onceover in the mirror. I decided to dress up more than I usually do this year, forgoing my ugly Christmas sweater tradition and opting for a holiday dress with a sweetheart neckline and flared skirt, fifties-style. My hair is curled to match the smile on my bright red mouth as I appreciate the final product.

I can’t help the little buzz that soars through me when I hear Oliver downstairs, engaging with my niece. They’ve only interacted one other time when I was babysitting the neighbor girl, Summer, and Oliver stopped by to watch them so I could run out and grab cat food. I’d returned to find all three of them reading in a circle in the middle of the living room, each girl leaned into him, completely engrossed in his storytelling. Alexis was perched on his lap, oblivious to my return, which was unlike her.

Oliver has a special presence about him, one that is both captivating and addicting.

And when I exit the bathroom and proceed down the staircase, my ruby-tipped fingers gliding down the railing, I can’t help but wonder if my own presence has a similar effect on him.

Oliver cuts off mid-sentence, his conversation with my sister long forgotten as his eyes trail up to me, drinking in my appearance as each white pump descends the steps. My fingers squeeze the wood rail to keep my balance steady as my belly flips and coils in response to his reaction.

I’ve seen him look at me in a thousand different ways, but this is something new. I’m being bathed in a lethal mix of adoration, awe, and knee-bucklingdesire. My air waves tighten, my white-knuckled grip on the railing the only thing keeping me upright.

Our eyes stay locked across the room, and the silence that has settled over us is so resounding, Clementine twists around on the couch to investigate why Oliver has simultaneously gone mute and paralyzed in a flash.

“Damn, sissy,” she announces, a dramatic whistle following, her gaze skimming me from bottom to top. “I didn’t get the memo we were getting all cute. I look homeless compared to you.”

It takes more effort than I anticipate to tear my eyes from Oliver and regard my sister, her one arm draped over the back of my sofa. “Last minute decision. I had this dress lying around and figured I should get some use out of it.”

I’m a dirty, little liar. I panic-bought it online and paid an embarrassing amount of money for two-day shipping.

“You look beautiful, Syd.”

Oliver’s voice pulls me back, a smile blossoming onto my crimson-tinged lips. “Why thank you, Mr. Lynch. You look quite dashing, yourself,” I reply in my most sophisticated tone, trying desperately to diffuse the crackling electricity in the air.

And it’s the damn truth.

He lookssinfullydashing in a forest green sweater nearly painted onto him, his pecs and biceps taunting me, dark gray denim tapering his legs. The curls in his hair are tamed slightly with a styling product, while stubble lines his strong jaw. His eyes are like chestnuts and steel firing into me as I finally leave my unsteady perch on the stairstep.

Whew.

“Can you spin like a princess, Auntie Syd?” Poppy chirps, her own emerald dress swishing side to side.

“Of course, dear niece. It would be my pleasure.” Apparently, I’m still talking like I just shared tea and crumpets with the Queen of England. This dressing-up thing is going to my head. Doing a quick twirl, the skirt of my dress flaring impressively, Poppy claps with approval from her knees on the couch. I take a formal bow.

---