Page 51 of Connor

I swallow roughly. “Maybe she’s drugged my tea,” I say cheekily, and he huffs a laugh.

“Maybe you’ve just been waiting for the right one,” he comments, and my smile softens at his serious tone.

“No other woman has made this impression on me, that’s for sure.”

I’m no saint. I’ve dated and bedded a lot of women. But that’s all it’s ever been. For years, I’ve played the field. Lived a life that most men envy. But never having that connection, that feeling of being linked to someone for more than just a physical release. Daisy provides that, but more. I can already envision talking to her about business decisions, helping each other through difficult times, and leaning on each other. The feeling of dependability I get with her is something I haven’t felt with a woman before, ever. I can trust her. Explicitly.

“Just make smart decisions,” Dad says, all jokes now gone. We think similarly, so I know he’s now thinking about the business ramifications of the situation.

I nod, a small smirk coming to my face just thinking about her.

“Oh, my boy, I live to see the day!” he yells before slapping the doorframe and walking out, and I look at my watch. It’s now well into the afternoon, and I still haven’t seen or heard from my sexy yoga instructor.

What will I do about these feelings if she doesn’t sign those papers?

23

DAISY

Ilook at the folder on my desk, the one housing the contract that I’ve read three times over. I haven’t seen Connor since our yoga session on the weekend. He’s clearly giving me space after our heated exchange, and now this contract is now all I can think about. But my body is fully in her feminine energy, and if I could be any animal right now, it would be a sex kitten. Maybe even a crazed sex kitten, because I’m on edge.

“So you loved the rose quartz?” my mom asks, and I shake my head and focus back on our conversation. I haven’t spoken to her and Dad for almost a week, and I miss them terribly.

“Mom, it’s so beautiful. I have no idea where Soren got it, but it’s huge,” I tell her, smiling as my eyes flick to the large pink rock on my desk. It sits firm, solid, a thing of pure beauty.

“They have a few around my old commune, which is up that way,” she says, and I frown.

“Soren mentioned he was going there. How come you never told me about it?” I ask her.

“There isn’t much to say about it, really. I grew up there as a child, then left when I was in my late teens. Met your father on the road, and the rest is history.” She says the same words she’s told me throughout the years, but unlike the other times, a question pops into my mind about it.

“Why did you leave the commune?” I ask her, intrigued. I wonder if I could find it if I looked. Maybe Soren would take me. For no other reason than to see where Mom grew up and what it’s like.

“It was just my time, honey. My journey there was over, and I was led onto a different path.” The way she says it almost sounds cryptic, so I drop it, resigned to never knowing further details.

“So, I have all our teas here. They look great on the shelf in the new spa,” I tell her, smiling, because seeing our brand of tea on a retail shelf that we don’t own was one of my earlier goals. I’m so proud to have them stocked here at Whitemans I could almost burst.

“Oh, you mentioned that the chamomile grows well up there. You should try making a few new ones.”

“Already thinking about it. They have a great herb garden, plus they have their own hives for honey,” I tell her, getting excited about the new possibilities. Although I’m bereft when I think about my time here coming to an end soon.

“I would say you should stay on, play around with mixing some new elixirs, but your father says just take the cash and come home. He misses you.”

It’s true, the consultation rates I’m being paid by Whiteman’s are well over and above anything we made at the shop. I’ve already received half of my monthly fee in my account. It’s the most money I've ever had in my life, and I had to refresh my screen three times before I could believe it was real.

“Can you tell Dad I will email him tomorrow? I want to start putting some into my 401k,” I tell her.

“Pfft, don’t give anything to the government,” Mom says, dismissing me with one of her old hangups from commune days.

“That’s smart, honey,” Dad yells out from the background, and I laugh, wondering how in the world they actually make their relationship work when they’re so opposite.

“So how is that big hunk of spunk?” Mom teases, and I cough out a laugh.

“Mom!”

“Rainbow! I heard that!” My dad usually calls her Rain or Rainy, but whenever she’s in trouble, he uses her full name.

“Well, that’s what Trisha called him,” Mom justifies with a chuckle.

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