Page 46 of Wallflower
I follow her line of sight to where Daisy dances in the center of a pulsing crowd, not understanding what Mona means until I spy the woman next to her, similarly small and similarly gyrating, with a shock of red hair I’d recognize anywhere. Penelope. Mona’s only daughter and Daisy’s childhood best friend.
“Poppy’s back?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.” Mona shakes her head. “She strolled in here tonight like it hasn’t been six years since she’s been home, and I’m not convinced the girls didn’t plan it this way, but they swear black and blue it was all a coincidence or fate or what-have-you. They’ve been drinking and dancing and flirting up a storm. Just like the old days.” Mona sighs. “There’ll be a fight or two before I close tonight. Mark my words.”
My mouth twitches. “I’ll give Dylan a call. Give him the heads up.”
Mona flicks the towel at me. “You leave that poor boy alone. He did enough running around after those two when they were teenagers. Those girls are big enough now to figure it out for themselves.”
I huff out a dry laugh as Mona rolls her eyes, an affectionate been-there-done-that twist to her lips. She moves along the bar to tend to her customers just as Violet moans and reaches down to tug at her boot.
My eyes travel the never-ending distance of smooth skin that is Violet’s legs, from the hem on her shorts riding high on her thighs to the dainty ankle bones peeking out the top of her low-cut boots, and my cock twitches.
“Too much dancing, huh?”
She nods slowly and groans again. “Uh-huh.”
I slip my hands under Violet’s arms and hoist her onto the bar. She squeaks and steadies herself by flattening her hands to either side of her bare thighs as I lift one leg and slide off herboot, then do the same on the other. With the shoes clutched in one fist, I slide an arm around Violet’s waist, the other under her knees, and swing her up against my chest.
She throws her arms around my neck, and when people start to look, she hides her face against my shoulder. Her hair smells so sweet, like peaches, and her warm breath against my skin, the soft hint of her tits against my chest, the way her fingers dig into the muscles… It’s like freaking electricity zipping through my veins.
I pause to check the dance floor and spare a frown for my sister. She spots me and yanks Poppy’s arm to get her attention, and they wave at me like drunk teenagers. Daisy goes so far as to give me two goofy thumbs up before Poppy points my way and yells something in her ear, making Daisy nod like a bobblehead.
Daisy and Poppy were hellcats as kids, and it doesn’t look like much has changed. With the two of them back in town at the same time? God help Aster Springs.
Mona slides up beside me, one hand on her hip as she shakes her head at the girls.
“Can you take care of Daisy tonight, Mona?” I ask. “I need to know she’s safe, and I don’t want her disappearing with some loser.”
Mona flaps her hands, her dish towel still gripped in one of them. “I was already planning on taking the three of them home after I closed the place. Don’t worry about Daisy. She’s safe with me, honey.”
Satisfied that my sister will be all right with Mona, I stride through the bar with Violet cradled in my arms, her boots hanging from my fingers, and my eyes forward so I can’t count how many cameras are pointed in our direction.
When I get to my truck, I juggle a little to open the passenger door. After tossing in Violet’s boots, I ease her into the seat, then reach around to get her seatbelt.
My breath and hands are a little unsteady as I slip the strap across her body and snap the buckle into place, but then she stuns me by dancing her fingers into the edges of my hair. I freeze, still leaning over her, our faces so close.
“You look so cute in the backward baseball cap,” she mumbles.
I choke out a laugh. “What?”
She gives me a silly smile and rubs the ends of my hair between her fingers. “Yeah. When you’re all hot and sweaty, these little bits curl against your neck and around your ears, and it’s so ridiculous how good-looking you are. And the hat just…” She closes her eyes and hums happily like she’s thinking about it.
She likes the hat, huh? I tuck that piece of information away for another day, close the door and walk around to the driver’s side, then get in, and start the engine.
Violet’s eyes are closed, and I’ve decided she’s fallen asleep when she asks, “Do you like me, Chord?”
My eyes slide from the dark road to her and back again. “I do.”
“Like,reallylike me?”
There’s nobody here except the two of us, and Violet’s eyes are closed, so I let myself smile for real. “Yeah. Like,reallylike you.”
“Oh.”
Another long silence, and then, “But why?”
“Why… what?”
