Page 43 of Butterflies and Hazel Eyes
He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m busy, but not too busy to celebrate with you. For the record, I don’t feel obligated to spend time with you, Charity. If anything, I worry I’m coming on too strong. The problem is, I can’t stay away from you. When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you.”
“You’re saying I’m like an earwig?” I asked, joking around. He cocked his head in question. “Don’t they say earwigs burrow into things and just stick around to bug you?”
He shook his head at me as if I were a first-grader with a lot to learn. “We’re going to have to have a lesson or two on bugs, Miss Puck. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I have a giant crush on you, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you leave.” His eyes bugged out, no pun intended, and he swallowed. “I said that crush part out loud, didn’t I?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “I wasn’t planning on saying it out loud.”
I trailed a finger down his cheek. “I’m glad you did. It helps me to know the way I’m feeling is normal.”
His lips crushed mine in a frantic, heated show of passion and desperation. I slid my hands into his hair and moaned when his tongue knocked on my lips for entrance. I willingly opened them, and it strode in filled with heat and wetness that drove a moan from my chest. His lips left mine, and he kissed his way down my neck, nipping and kissing the sting away each time. His sharp intake of breath immediately turned to a soft moan when he sucked my earlobe between his teeth and tugged. When he released it, he whispered in my ear, “Everyone should get to share their birthday with someone they care about, Charity, and I don’t just mean at work. We’ll see how your head is tomorrow and decide what you’d like to do, okay?”
I cleared my throat, wondering if I would be able to speak without the words shaking from desire. “I like that idea.”
Gulliver’s shoulders relaxed, and he lost some of his intensity when he started stroking my cheek, a smile of pure happiness on his face.
“When’s your birthday?” I asked, suddenly aware that I didn’t know.
“You missed it. We were born on January thirteenth,” he said, resting his head against mine again.
“Maybe I missed it this year, but you’ll have another one in six months.”
“Are you going to be here in six months, Charity Puck?” His voice held a twinge of disbelief in the question. I made him worry, which made my heart ache, but I was secretly thrilled he wanted me to stay.
My heart pounded in my chest with unanswered questions. Had I found a home? Was this the place where I could put down roots and make a life? That was never going to be easy for me, but this man had shown me more about life in a few short weeks than all my years of wandering had.
Would I be here in six months when his birthday came around? Probably not. My track record was zero when it came to commitment. I didn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t him. If I were a normal woman, I’d settle right into this town and let it grow it’s love up around me, but I wasn’t normal. I never have been, and that meant one thing. I was more likely to break Gulliver’s heart than fix it.
CHAPTER 13
I flipped through the butterfly book in my hand, studying each one’s markings and the vital information about their habitat and life cycle. I paged through the book until I found the butterfly I was looking for. The wing I wore around my neck belonged to a pink glasswing butterfly common in Central America. It was one of the fastest butterflies, able to fly up to eight miles an hour. I turned the page and kept reading, enjoying the fun facts and beautiful photos in the book. It was written for children, but it had kept me interested for over an hour. I flipped it closed again and stared at the cover. Yup, I’d read it right. I knew the author.
“Whatcha doing?” Gulliver asked, coming up to the desk.
My head snapped up, and my gaze locked on to his, loving when he pinned those sexy bronzed globes on me. “Why didn’t you tell me you wrote a book?” I held it up instead of answering his question.
He eyed the book and sighed. “It’s a children’s book, Charity. No big deal.”
I opened it again and pointed to the image of a butterfly on a flower. “You’re wrong. It is a big deal. I’ve been reading it for an hour. The pictures are beautiful, and the facts are just enough for those of us who know nothing about butterflies to build confidence in our knowledge.”
He brushed his hand at me. “Thanks, but I know you’re just trying to make me feel good.”
I stood, shaking my head. “No, I’m not. I’m serious. You could sell this book as a field guide for the beginning butterfly enthusiast. You’ve taken a ton of technical information and funneled it down into usable information, and not just for kids. If you aren’t selling this, you should be.”
He stuck his hands in his back pockets, his crutches crossing behind him in an odd dance of symmetry. “I use the book when I go to schools and nature preserves. They’re easy for kids to read, and they always enjoy the pictures. I also sell them in a few gift shops, but I never considered it a field guide. You actually believe they’d sell?”
I clapped excitedly at his question. Maybe he was going to get on board with my idea without a lot of convincing. “I do. Would it be okay if I did some research on how to publish and promote them on the internet? Why aren’t they on your website?”
Gulliver held his hands out to calm my enthusiasm before I got carried away. “Again, I used them for my nature presentations. I have a classroom set only. Of course, I have the files to order more if I need them.”
I patted the book with my hand. “Let me research this when I have downtime the rest of the week. I’ll see what I can come up with, and we’ll talk about it together, okay?”
“Sure, I mean, if you want to. Don’t think you have to, though.”
I chuckled with a tinge of frustration. The man always downplayed everything he did. He was humble, but sometimes he needed to take the credit he was due. “I truly believe people would benefit from a book like this. Think about how many people might decide to stop using pesticides in their gardens if they read this book. Or how many people might order seeds from Butterfly Junction and plant a butterfly garden? The ways a book like this could change the minds of everyday people are limitless. Do you think Honey would mind if I hold on to this copy? I found it in her desk drawer. I’ll return it when I finish with it.”
Gulliver held up his finger and crutched past my desk and down to his office. When he returned a few minutes later, he held out a book to me. “Happy birthday. Don’t worry, it’s not all I got you, but since you’re so taken with it, you should have your own copy.”
I held it against my chest. “Thank you, Gulliver. I’m happy to have it. Now I can go butterfly hunting and know what I’m searching for.” I flipped the book open and noticed the handwritten message. It read,To Charity. You’re more beautiful than any painted lady in this book. I hope you remember me with fondness on your birthday and always. Gulliver.I put my hand to my heart. “What sweet words, thank you. And I know the painted lady is orange and yellow, has four eyes on their wings, and are sometimes called the thistle butterfly.”
His brows spiked upward with surprise and possibly a touch of admiration. “Wow, you did learn a lot over the last hour.”
