Blue Roses (6 page)

I grab my purse and run out to meet him.

He’s standing on the front step, talking to my sister. They’re laughing about their shared adventure, selling out the flower shop on Wednesday.

“There’s our Teenie,” he says. “Thanks, Meenie.” He gives her a nod goodbye. She waves at me and disappears into the house.

“You clean up good,” I say, looking him up and down. He’s wearing a button-down shirt with dress slacks and stylish leather shoes. I feel underdressed in my flower-print sundress, topped in a cardigan.

“And I see you brought the flower shop with you.”

I look down, frowning at my dress.

“My best friend Rory didn’t like it, either,” I say.

“That was meant to be a compliment,” he says.

“Thank you. What movie are we going to see?”

“It’s a surprise.” He offers me his elbow in an old-fashioned sort of way.

I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm and walk with him to the street.

He steers us over to an old-fashioned-looking motorbike and hands me a helmet.

A bike. I should have known. And I’m wearing a dress.

The sun has just gone down, and the world around us is midnight blue.

I’m nervous to get on a motorbike for the first time in my life, but one look into Luca’s eyes makes me feel confident. He’s not some punk kid who’s going to drive fast to impress or terrify me. I can trust him.

He helps me fasten the helmet’s buckle under my chin, his hands enveloping mine.

He turns and throws one long, muscled leg over the bike. I climb on behind him.

My heart’s pounding.

I’m on a motorbike, with my arms wrapped around Luca Lowell. I’m about as nervous as Rory would be at a performance of the Vagina Monologues.

He starts the bike’s engine, and the night air fills with a deep rumble. The vibration between my legs is… interesting.

We’re off, riding down the street.

The skirt of my dress ruffles up in the breeze, and I’m sure everyone’s getting a great view of my panties, but I don’t even mind. I’ve got my arms around Luca’s big, strong torso, and I don’t want to ever let go.

We ride past the local movie theater. I try to ask him where he’s taking me, but he doesn’t hear me over the rumble.

Eventually, we pull off the main road and ride into another residential neighborhood. He pulls up behind a giant, white trailer and parks the bike.

My legs feel like they’re shaking when I step off the bike. The engine’s off, but I can still feel the rumbling vibration in my body.

I look around us, at the big trailers, catering truck, and filming equipment.

He said he would take me to a movie, and he did. We’re on a film set.

I pull off my helmet and run my fingers through my wavy hair.

He ruffles up his hair as well. Damn. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. No wonder people ride bikes.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask, glancing over at the elaborate filming setup that’s taken over the block.

“We’re invited,” he says. “I’m renting them some bikes from my collection. They said to come by tonight and watch. We don’t have to stay long if you’re not having fun.”

“Are you kidding? This is awesome.”

He offers me his elbow again, and we walk toward the action, stepping over thick cables criss-crossing the ground.

Luca finds some people he knows, and they set us up with some folding chairs, right near the action. We watch as the crew sets up a shot, taking a hundred measurements and notes, and then a bell rings and they’re filming.

The scene is a guy picking up a girl at her house, then driving away on a motorbike that looks almost exactly like the one we rode here on.

Luca turns to me, his blue eyes looking pale grey in the artificial light. “I was really hoping for a kiss.”

I lean over and kiss him, right on the lips.

He pulls away, looking surprised. “I meant in the shot they’re filming. It’s an action-romance movie.”

I cover my mouth with my fingertips, mortified.

He grins. “If I’d known getting a kiss from you was so easy, I would have asked sooner.”

“Oh, Luca.” I shake my head, still so embarrassed.

Someone with a headset approaches us with takeout cups. There’s one coffee, and one tea. After the girl walks away, Luca takes the tea from my hands and sets it down on the ground, on the other side of his chair.

He slides over toward me on his chair, so his hips and legs are in contact with mine.

“You cold?” he asks, his chest rumbling.

“Not bad. I’m glad I wore a sweater.”

He wraps one long arm around my shoulders. He’s not wearing a jacket, so the heat of his arm comes through his shirt and warms my shoulders.

He reaches up with his free hand and softly strokes my jaw. I almost can’t believe he’s touching me, but he is.

I tilt my head up to face him. He leans down slowly, his eyelids lowering. I close my eyes, and he kisses me.

Bells are ringing. It’s the sound they make on set, either when the filming starts or ends—I can’t remember.

He kisses me, and every kind of bell I’ve ever heard goes off.

His lips are full, and envelop my lips. I’m hesitant, until he coaxes my lips into movement. Once I start, there’s no holding back. His gorgeous lips feel as good as they look.

His hand moves away from my chin and down to my bare leg. He squeezes the spot above my knee, then slides up one heavenly inch.

My lips part, and his tongue greets mine. Our tongues are shy at first, like two kids meeting on a playground. We take tentative licks and bumps, then move on to playful tongue wrestling.

His hand slides up my leg, one more inch. My whole body is thrumming, like it did when I stepped off the bike.

More bells are ringing.

His hand lifts off my leg and cups my breast.

I suck in my breath and pull away from the kiss.

He quickly pulls his hand away and mutters an apology, shaking his head. “Too much for the second date,” he says.

We both look around. It feels like every single one of the dozens of cast and crew on the set is looking at us. I’m sure it’s only three or four people, but it
feels
like all of them.

He leans away from me, picks up the beverage containers, and hands me one.

I sip my drink and pretend to be really interested in what the lighting technician is doing.

My head is light, and my whole body is reeling from that kiss. Can this whole evening really be happening? It’s like a dream, and I don’t want to wake up.

I take a few sips of my tea and enjoy the confusion and magic of this post-kiss moment.

I’m half-way through the cup when I realize it’s not tea.

I lean over and whisper, “Luca, I think I’m drinking your coffee.”

We trade cups, laughing over the fact neither of us notice sooner.

“I thought the coffee was just really weak,” he says.

“And I thought they brewed my tea using a goat’s backside.”

He chuckles. “You’re not a coffee fan.”

“Is that supposed to be good coffee?”

He takes a sip and looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. You’ve ruined me forever. All I can taste is your lips.”

“I’m sure the feeling will pass.”

He gazes down at my mouth. “I don’t want it to.”

I angle my body away from him, aware of all the people around us. They seem bored with the slow setup between filming takes, and happy to watch me and Luca for entertainment.

“Let me finish my tea before it gets cold,” I say.

“I can’t drink this coffee if you think it tastes like a goat’s backside. You won’t kiss me again if I do.”

“It was nice enough on your lips.”

He grabs my cup, and dumps both the tea and the coffee on the grass next to us.

“Problem solved,” he says, and he pulls me into another kiss.

I try to complain about my tea, but his lips smother my words.

I give in to the moment, not caring who’s watching.

His kisses are incredible.

Hours pass pleasantly.

After two hours of making out and watching the filming, Luca drives me back home.

We’ve kissed so much, my lips are actually the tiniest bit sore.

I hold on tight on the way home, savoring the feeling of him wrapped in my arms. I don’t want the ride to end, but it does.

We kiss goodnight in front of the main house, standing on the lawn.

“Luca, I had a wonderful time, but I’m not going to invite you in.”

He looks over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to go in anyway. Your family’s nice, but nosy. Your sister’s watching us from the window.”

I turn and wave at Megan. She waves back, and doesn’t leave the window.

I shake my head. “Sorry about that. She’s probably making popcorn for the second half.”

“There’s a second half?”

I stand up on my toes and reach up to his neck, pulling him down to me.

He kisses me eagerly, running his fingers through my hair. My curls mean my hair isn’t the easiest for a guy to run his fingers through, so he moves to my back.

His big, warm hands move up and down my back, like he’s worried I might disappear if he stops touching me.

After a satisfying second half of goodnight kissing, I pull away and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks for taking me to see a movie.”

“Are you free this Wednesday night?”

I pretend to think about it for a minute before saying yes.

On Wednesday, Luca Lowell takes me out for dinner at a restaurant that’s just opened up. I feel like the prettiest girl in the world when I’m on his arm.

This is our third date, and he keeps dropping that fact into conversation.

“This is really the third one?” I ask, feigning forgetfulness.

“And the best one yet.” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “Sorry about that. This restaurant is too dark.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment that you feel relaxed around me.”

He smiles, his face looking weary. “I barely slept last night. Maybe two hours. Anyone who says renovations are easy is a liar. They’re also not fun, or cheap, or fast.”

“You were at the garage late?”

He rubs his eyes again, hiding another yawn behind his hand. “Lying awake in bed. One of my contractors has an alcohol abuse problem. By which I mean he drinks on the job and abuses my brand-new walls. I had to let him go.”

“Yikes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You’re sweet. I bet you don’t even know what side of a hammer is for hitting the nail.”

I bat my eyelashes. “What’s a hammer?”

The waiter comes by to clear our dinner plates.

“May I interest you in dessert?” the waiter asks.

“Let’s start with a triple espresso,” Luca says.

I wave at the waiter. “No, no, no. Cancel that. No triple espresso.” I give Luca a serious look. “You’ll never sleep tonight if you have that now.”

The waiter looks at me, then Luca, and says to him, “Your wife is right. No caffeine after noon.”

Luca frowns at both of us. “Wife? I thought the customer was always right,” he says.

I slump down in my chair, dying of embarrassment.

The waiter nods at me. “Wife trumps customer.”

After the waiter leaves, I say to Luca, “That’s not right. We’re on our third date, and already I’m nagging you. I am so sorry.”

“This third date is the best one yet.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “It feels good to have someone looking out for me. It’s been a long time since somebody cared.”

The look of adoration on his face makes my chest ache and my eyes burn.

But then he yawns again, and I get a different feeling. Not a good one. Luca is so big and tough, which I like. Seeing him tired and vulnerable like this makes me uncomfortable.

This tired version of him isn’t the man I want. I like how safe he usually makes feel, like there’s nothing in this world that can get through his thick skin and bring him down.

“It’s getting late,” I say. “I’ll just take a cab home from here so you can go straight home and get to bed.”

“But—”

“Not another word, Mr. Five Yawns.” I reach for my purse and move to get up from the chair.

He points to his lips. I give him a kiss, thank him again for dinner, and leave. My inner voice is not happy with me.

Tina, you are being so rude. You just got up and left that beautiful man sitting alone in a restaurant. The waiter is going to think he offended his wife. And what about Luca’s feelings?

I wave down a cab in front of the restaurant and climb in without a glimpse back.

I can’t get back home fast enough.

Once I’m inside my cottage and alone again, I close all the windows and blinds.

I pull out the shoebox from the top of the closet and prepare for the ritual.

I wipe down the table, dim the lights, and take a seat.

I open the box and lay out the items, one at a time, beginning with the dried rose.

The blue dye that was used to make a white rose blue has faded away to a muddy grey. The dried petals are loose and threaten to disintegrate every time I handle it.

The flower would be nothing but garbage to anyone else who saw it, but it’s the most precious thing I own, because it reminds me that once there was a time I loved someone with everything I had, and he loved me.