Page 29 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

“Ah, I’ve got it, then,” she said brightly. “Allison, you’re supposed to be at work still.”

I pursed my lips through laughter. “Betweenno charm at all, no real creativity,andloves rock-climbing,why do I feel like she’d be most offended by the last descriptor?”

“You know the girl well.” The door handle turned, and it swung open to where Brooklyn was… well, she looked nice, suffice to say. She was dressed for the heat that I could feel rolling from the kitchen right now, wearing a heather-gray sports bra that fitted against the long, firm muscles along her torso, loose black sweatpants leaving all the attention to her tight, toned waist. I was… definitely one of patron saint Sappho’s fledglings, if that was what we were calling it. She smiled oddly at me. “Don’t tell me those flowers were some kind of apology gesture from… any one of a few people?”

I tore my eyes off her waist, feeling a prickle in my cheeks. I think she’d… noticed me looking. She didn’t seem to mind.Iminded, though. Gravely embarrassing. “They’re an apology gesture from me,” I said, going for a light laugh, as I stepped into the entrance, holding them out, a small bouquet in the same pale violet and lavender colors I’d noticed she seemed to like as accents in her house and garden. “For darkening your doorstep two days in a row, please accept my apologies. And a gift for the host.”

Brooklyn absolutely shone, giving a brilliant smile between me and the flowers. “Miss Ryan Bell. Are you practicing techniques to tell Allison about? Showing up with a bundle of flowers for a girl—you know how to make an impression, huh?”

Sheknew how to make an impression. I… needed her to put a shirt on. Keeping myself looking at her face was getting exponentially more difficult the longer I was here. I stepped past her, letting her shut the door, and I said lightly, “Not to offend the poor girl, but Allison did not even begin to enter my mind when I was buying you flowers. I noticed you seem to like the color lavender?”

She laughed, setting the bouquet down on the table, leaning back against it with her hands spread out on either side of it, and the way she leaned back pushed her hips forward and made the musculature on her stomach stand out more… “I have to say,” she said, jerking my thoughts back out of where they weren’t supposed to be, “you’re the most considerate guest I’ve had here. I do… it’s my favorite color. Don’t think I’ve had someone pick it up without me telling them before.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like flowers, so I was kind of taking a stab in the dark. Guess you could still be pretending you like them to be polite.”

She grinned wider. “What, because I’m not feminine enough to like flowers? Just because I can’t stand skirts, now I’m too ugly and brutish for flowers, is that it?”

Hm. I wasn’t quite ready to let her tease me like that and get away with it. I smiled warmly at her. “Oh, that? No, I just wasn’t sure if you liked girls throwing themselves on you with flowers.”

I got a little quirk of surprise over her features before she settled into an even wider smile, turning back to the kitchen and pushing off from the counter. “You’re trying to make me forget about the food,” she said, bending over to adjust something in the oven.

Admittedly, I wasn’t sad about the thought of being able to make her forget about things.

It had already crept slowly into my mind as I started pushing my family out of my thoughts, working on my article at Stern’s, but seeing Brooklyn here like this—dressedlike this—there was no denying how blisteringly hot she was. Even if…goinganywhere with her was probably a bad idea, just being able to get validation from a woman at all felt healing in some way. And especially it felt good when it was a woman who looked like—well, that. Back muscles forming a valley deep as the Grand Canyon down her spine as she bent down looking in the oven.

I still really needed her to put a shirt on, though. If I wanted to have any hopes at an intelligible conversation with her, anyway.

In theory, I got my wish, because once she finished putting together two plates of oven-roasted chicken and sweet potatoes, she pulled a shirt on, but she seemed satisfied with a button-up shirt hanging loose, not actually covering the distracting parts. I wasn’ttoosad, anyway, if I was being honest with myself.

“Let’s eat up on the terrace,” she said, picking up the plates. “You’re going to freak out with jealousy once you see it. Well…” She paused. “Your family seems pretty loaded. I’m sure you’ve had nicer views.”

I laughed. “I’m not comparing… I’m sure I’ll enjoy the view.”

She paused at the back door. “Are you talking about the view from the terrace, or of my waist?”

Oh, god. I felt my face flare up hot, but—I wasn’t one to lose so easily. I pursed my lips through a smile. “Oh, so you were going around without a shirt on because you wanted me to stare.”

She grinned. “Only thing better than a girl throwing herself at me with flowers is one doing it and staring at my abs.”

Oh, we wereflirtingflirting. I… didn’t mind. She was probably just being cute, having fun with it—I didn’t think I was too bad, but even with that, I knew this woman was way out of my league. So… nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation.

“First thing you want from me is my smile,” I said, “and now it’s staring at your abs. You keep asking me for easy things.”

“I mean, why do you think I work out? Health benefits? Don’t make me laugh. It’s so pretty people will look. Now—move your pretty self and come up to the terrace already.”

I blushed hard, which implied I was buying more into it than I should have been, but… somehow I didn’t really want to stop right now.

The terrace was incredible, actually—easily the second-best view here—and I paused once I followed her up the steps behind the house and onto the rooftop, where the palm trees parted past the back garden to a panoramic ocean view, from the rocky crags down to where they rolled off into a quiet, small beach, endless ocean waves lapping. In the other direction, the view of the town sprawled over the long slopes in the distance didn’t disappoint either—the fresh, warm air brushing the palm leaves around the wood railing at the edges of the terrace, terracotta tiles cool underfoot, and the taste of the ocean breeze, I stood there rooted to the spot, taking it all in like I was frantically committing it to memory.

I didn’t care about whatever tourist landmark my family was going to see right now.Thiskind of scene—this was a landmark I wasn’t going to forget.

I didn’t notice Brooklyn had set down the plates and a flower vase on the table until she came up next to me, her arm brushing mine as she looked out over the scenery with me.

“It’s nice, right?” she said, quietly, and I nodded, not even with a clever comment this time.

“I love the ocean… it’s so beautiful.” I laughed, once, a little incredulous. “How do you not just spend all your time sitting up here, taking it in?”

“I’m impatient is how,” she laughed, flicking her gaze towards me. “I commit to doing just that, I get up here, I sit down, and two minutes later I’m up doing something.”

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