Page 39 of Butterflies and Hazel Eyes
He shook his head and chuckled at himself. “No, not at all. I realized I couldn’t say this has nothing to do with bugs because it does.”
I eyed the box. “Nothing alive is going to pop out of here, is it?”
He burst into laughter, his body shaking as tears ran from his eyes. I wondered if he was losing it, tired, nervous, or all three. Finally, he held up his hand and wiped his eyes. “Sorry. I admit my explanation sounded weird. There’s nothing alive in there. You’ll see. Just open it.”
I tugged on the ribbon until it fell away and cracked the box open, lifting it closer to my face to make it out in the low light of the fire. He toggled open his phone’s flashlight and held it over the necklace. “Oh, Gulliver. It’s beautiful,” I gasped. The pink, oval necklace was gorgeous in its simplicity. “I’m having a hard time seeing what it is. Is it a leaf? Wait, leaves aren’t pink.” The pattern on the necklace was pink, with thin black lines running through it.
“It’s a butterfly wing,” he explained, pointing at the black lines. “Don’t worry. It was already dead by the time I found it. I often find just a wing of a butterfly when I’m out hiking. I gather them and make necklaces or earrings. Maybe it’s morbid, but the butterfly is meant for beauty, and that should be enjoyed long after they’re gone.”
I stared at it as he spoke, finally lifting my gaze to his. “I love it. I don’t think it’s morbid at all. Especially not in this setting. I love that they can continue to share their beauty with us, just in a different way.”
“I’m glad you understand,” he said, smiling. “These butterflies only live a week, sometimes two before they become part of the earth again. They’re small and often don’t live even that long in the wild, considering they have multiple predators.” He rolled his eyes to his hairline. “Sorry, you don’t need a lesson in butterflies.”
“But I do because I know next to nothing about them. I didn’t know there were pink butterflies, but this is gorgeous. I’ll treasure it, especially since I know you made it.”
His smile was tired but bright. There was a touch of relief there, too, that his gift had been well received. “Whenever I think of you, I think of the tiniest butterfly flitting through a field of clover. I just want to protect you and keep you safe so you can share your beauty with the rest of the world for a long time to come.”
I ran my fingers over his beard to pull him down for a kiss. It turned hot and hungry immediately, his tongue reminding mine that it was the boss. Oh God, I loved the way this man kissed me. Hot, languid, but filled with an underlying sense of urgency for the next moment of our lives together.
I broke the kiss and rested my forehead on his. “Thank you. This means the world to me.”
Gulliver took it off the display board and held it up. “Should I put it on?”
“Please,” I agreed and let him fasten it behind my neck. It rested perfectly on my chest, and I patted it with my hand. “I like how it has a short enough chain that it doesn’t go all the way to my navel.”
His lid lowered in a wink to cover his beautiful eye for a moment. “I figured you were going to need a shorter one. The necklace is even more gorgeous on you than I pictured it being. A pink butterfly symbolizes happiness. If there’s one thing I wish for you always, it’s happiness. Whether you find it here or out roaming the country, I hope you find it every single day you live. I also hope you found a little bit of happiness here with me in the last few weeks.”
I cupped his cheek in my hand and guided him to me until we were nose to nose. “I found more than a little bit. I found a happiness here that I never experienced anywhere else in this country.”
“Well, score one for Plentiful,” he whispered. He never said another thing, at least not with his words. His lips, on the other hand, told me a different story. His lips capturing mine in a kiss of gentleness was that first chapter. The meet-cute. The tentative dance of getting to know you. Chapter two opened with his warm, velvety tongue trailing along my lips. Chapter three was the music soft, low, and romantic as we danced tangled together as one. Each new chapter opened up before me as he slipped his tongue between my parted lips to taste, tease, and taunt me. He was mine in the darkness with no one else around to witness everything I took from him as he poured it into me. If a kiss was just a kiss, then this wasn’t a kiss. This wasn’t the end either. His low moan and hardness pressed against me was just the start of a new chapter.
CHAPTER 12
I stood from the uncomfortable desk chair and stretched my back out. It was nearly nine p.m., and I hadn’t seen Gulliver since lunch. He was working closely with Thomas as they dissected all the information they’d gotten from their last application of the pesticide to a farmer’s field. I didn’t understand it all, but I did understand that they were getting close, and that was exciting.
I grabbed Mojo’s ball and called for him to follow me outside. The day had been warm, but as the sun was sinking lower toward the horizon of Lake Superior, the air was cooling off considerably. “Come on, big dog, let’s go have a little playtime. We’ve worked long enough today.”
Mojo barked once, with little enthusiasm, but followed me through the door and around the back of the building to the small strip of sand near the marina. He loved playing ball there so he could romp in the waves lapping against the shore.
I threw his ball, watching it arc through the air and land in the sand where Mojo pounced on it, scooped it up, sand flying everywhere and his ears flopping as he ran through the water’s edge back to me. The ball fell from his lips, and he sat, his gaze bouncing between me and the ball.
I laughed, scooping up the slobbery yellow toy and tossing it again. Mojo’s tongue lolled as he chased it back down the beach. I shucked my shoes and waded into the water while I waited for Mojo to bring the ball back. I didn’t walk too far in, just stayed on the edge where the water was frothy and the bubbles tickled my toes. Lake Superior was still cold, even in the middle of June, but it was nice to relax after a long day of work.
Mojo bounded back to me, and I picked up his ball, lobbing it into the grass so he had to run farther to get it. I swished my toe through the water as I thought about tomorrow’s date. June seventeenth. The day Charity Puck had come wailing into the world at a minuscule three and a half pounds and sixteen inches long. That date changed my parents’ lives, and not in a good way, so I never made a big deal about my birthday. This year, I was in an awkward position. I wanted to ask Gulliver to do something fun with me, but I didn’t want to make my birthday the reason he felt obligated to do so. I wanted to see him regardless of the date, but I also didn’t want to spend the day alone. It was a real conundrum I hadn’t worked out yet.
Usually, my birthday involved a bottle of wine and a cupcake out on the open road somewhere. Occasionally, if I was in the right town, I might stop into a local pub or diner for a meal and a drink, but I never mentioned that it was a celebration dinner. Probably because it never was. It was just another lonely day in the life of Charity Puck. It was too much to ponder the idea that no one had ever really loved me unconditionally, especially not the two people who’d creat—
What was that sound? I rolled to my side and slapped the space around me, the noise making my head pound. Barking. Mojo.
“Mojo,” I moaned, “hush your face. You’re hurting my head.”
“Charity!” Gulliver’s voice was frantic and far away when he yelled. “Charity, tell Mojo to stand down so we can come help you!”
Help me? Why did he need to help me? Why was I wet? Why was Mojo barking and growling like a crazy fool?
“Mojo!” I exclaimed. “It’s okay, boy,” I soothed, reaching my hand out to encounter his lumbering body next to mine. He was pushing his bottom against my hip, and I realized we were both wet. “Let Gulliver come over, boy. You know he’s a friend.”
Mojo stopped barking and lowered himself down, a soft whine the only thing left in his throat as footsteps moved toward me. I struggled to sit up but collapsed back to the sand when it felt like my head was going to explode.
