Chapter 16 #2
“When they finally bloomed, it was…” I paused, remembering the moment I’d walked out to find that first massive flower unfurling in the morning sun.
“Spectacular. Bigger and more vibrant than anything I’d ever seen.
The blooms were easily six inches across, this incredible deep crimson with yellow centers.
Perfect symmetry, perfect color saturation.
It was like something out of a magazine. ”
“Prize worthy. So you entered some sort of competition?”
“Oh, no. That was another dare from Braden. He said I’d never have the guts to actually show the thing off.”
Braden had gaped at my hedge before turning to me with that irrepressible, shit-eating grin firmly in place.
The one that always made me suspect he knew something I didn’t, usually something I wouldn’t like.
He shared an excessive sense of humor with our older brother Eli, but Braden’s was milder.
Eli’s version occasionally came equipped with sharp teeth.
He made a wild flourish with one arm. “Come on, Austin. Share your floral genius with the world. Blow those little old ladies from the Garden Club out of the water with your brooding botanical brilliance.”
Of course I scoffed, a sound of pure disdain.
Me, at the county fair, fussing over flowers like some retired dentist with too much time on his hands?
Ridiculous. The idea was offensive to my image of rugged, seafaring solitude.
But, also like Eli, Braden could be relentlessly, charmingly persuasive when he set his mind to it.
I refilled Iris’s manatee mug. “So I cut the best bloom, drove it down to the county fairgrounds, and filled out the paperwork to enter it.”
“And you won!”
“Grand Champion, Division of Horticulture.” I couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction out of my voice or the smile off my face. “Beat out Mrs. Lowry’s roses, which had won three years running. The judge said it was the finest hibiscus specimen he’d seen outside of a professional greenhouse.”
Iris burst into laughter. Not the polite, social kind, but genuine, delighted laughter that filled the kitchen with warmth and light.
The sound should have annoyed me, should have made me feel exposed and foolish.
Instead, the last residual tension in my shoulders dissipated.
Her laughter wasn’t mocking or condescending.
It was pure joy, the kind of reaction that made the story funnier and more endearing instead of embarrassing.
“Austin Coleridge, champion hibiscus grower,” she said when she could speak again. “I absolutely love it. I love that you got so invested in proving your brother wrong that you became a hibiscus expert. I love that you won first place with your spite flower.”
“It wasn’t a spite flower,” I protested, but my smile grew.
“It absolutely was a spite flower, and it was glorious. You grew something beautiful just to prove you could, and then you won a prize for it. That’s not ridiculous, Austin. That’s…” She paused, studying my face with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “That’s very you, actually.”
Before I could figure out how to respond to that—to her ability to see something admirable in behavior I’d always considered slightly obsessive—her emotion shifted, became more serious, though not heavy. The laughter was still in her eyes, but it was joined by something more thoughtful.
I couldn’t respond because I was too busy dealing with a baffling new reality—her teasing didn't make me feel suffocated or uncomfortable. It made me feel at ease.
She looked down at her coffee cup and traced the rim with her finger. “So what does this mean, Austin? Us? Last night?”
The question should have sent me running for the door. But it didn’t. Staring at her, with her robe, messy hair, and earnest blue eyes, all I could feel was a surprising, unsettling need to answer her with the same honesty.
“I’m not sure. I don’t do coffee mornings…” I gestured vaguely between us. “Labels. Complications.”
“Me neither, usually,” she admitted, a brief, self-deprecating smile touching her lips. “My life is complicated enough right now.”
“But,” I continued, the word hanging in the air, “I just know… I like this.” It was a huge admission. The biggest one I’d made to anyone, including myself, in a long time. “Maybe we just see what happens? No labels. No pressure. Just you and me.”
She studied me for a long moment, then another sweet smile returned to her lips. One that reached all the way to her eyes and did something warm and dangerous to my chest.
“I like this too, Austin,” she said. “I’d like to see what happens.”
But time was marching on, and I had a group to prep for, a boat to see to. I pushed my chair back and stood, the sound scraping loudly in the quiet kitchen. “I need to get ready for work. Got a charter this morning.”
“Of course. I’ve got a full day too.” She stood up with me but didn’t move away. Just stood there on the other side of the cluttered table, her gaze soft and a little uncertain.
I closed the space between us. Before I could overthink it, before my usual defenses could slam back into place, I cupped her jaw, my thumb stroking the soft skin just below her ear.
Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting on a soft, surprised breath.
I meant to lean in for a simple goodbye kiss—a soft, brief confirmation of the words we’d just shared.
But the moment my mouth touched hers, that plan went to hell.
She tasted of coffee and sweet mango. Her lips were soft, yielding, welcoming.
What started as a gentle press deepened instantly to a magnetic pull I was powerless to resist. The memory of last night’s desperate heat flared, a coiling warmth in my gut.
She pressed against me, and her hands came up to rest on my chest, right over my thumping heart.
It wasn’t a frantic, messy collision like yesterday. This was something else.
Slower. Deeper. More dangerous, maybe.
I lingered for a moment longer, then forced myself to pull back. Her eyes were dark, color high on her cheeks.
My hand was still on her face. I brushed the back of my fingers down her cheek, the skin unbelievably soft. “Will I see you later?”
She gave a small nod. “You will.”
As I stepped onto her porch, a brand-new, clean Ford F-250 with crisp lettering for On the Level Remodeling & Restoration pulled into the Heron House driveway.
A man got out, maybe in his mid-fifties, with a calm, confident air about him that was the polar opposite of Mick Riley’s lazy swagger.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, and the ebony skin of his weathered face was framed by a neatly trimmed, salt-and-pepper goatee.
This had to be Gus, the guy Chase had recommended and Iris had chosen. I’d heard of him but never met the man.
Iris joined me on the porch and squeezed my bicep. “He’s right on time. Come on. You should meet him since you’re the one who made it happen.”
“I’d like that.”
We crossed the walkaround porch and descended the steps to meet the man.
“Gus! Good morning!” Iris called out, her voice bright.
Gus smiled as he walked up the path, a clipboard tucked under his arm. “Morning, Iris. Ready to make some real progress?” His voice was a deep, steady baritone that inspired confidence. He nodded toward me.
“Gus, this is my neighbor, Austin. He was the one who put me in touch with his brother-in-law, Chase,” Iris explained.
I extended my hand. “Austin Coleridge.”
Gus’s grip was firm, dry, no-nonsense. “Gus Davis. Pleasure to meet you. Chase told me you know your way around these old houses yourself.”
“I know enough to stay away from them, usually,” I replied, and Iris laughed.
Gus’s smile widened. “I know the feeling. Well, no time to waste.” He turned to Iris, all business.
“As I told you last week, my exterior crew is on the way to get this siding situation permanently resolved and make sure you’re watertight.
We’ll have this whole west wall finished by the end of the day tomorrow.
My interior guys will continue the third-floor demo for those en-suites.
I’ve got a third team finishing up a job across the bay, and they’ll join us here in about a week.
We’ll hit this place from all sides. Should have you ready for plumbing and electrical in no time. ”
He laid out the plan with such calm, logical efficiency that I found myself nodding in approval. I watched Iris’s face as he spoke. The anxious frown line that had seemed a permanent fixture between her brows was gone, replaced by an expression of pure happiness.
“That’s amazing,” she said. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is to hear.”
Seeing her like this, so happy and hopeful, did that unsettling thing to my chest again. Warmth spread through me, a feeling of satisfaction on her behalf that was profoundly, dangerously unfamiliar. With Gus and his competent crew taking charge, my presence was no longer required.
“Well,” I cleared my throat and addressed them both. “Sounds like you’ve got it handled. I have to get to work.”
The contractor gave me another firm nod. “Good to meet you, Austin.”
“You, too. We’ll get to know each other, I expect.” Couldn’t hurt to let the guy know I’d be around.
Iris turned to me, her blue eyes shining. “Thank you again, Austin.”
“You’re welcome. Uh, see you later.” I gave her a nod, unable to articulate the mess of conflicting emotions churning inside me, and retreated.
As I headed back to my place to shower, my world felt like it had spun sideways. I’d spent the night with the chaotic woman next door. I’d made her coffee in her kitchen. I’d talked, I’d laughed. And now, her biggest problem was on its way to being solved.
Things were changing, whether I wanted them to or not. When I pulled my shirt off in the bathroom, I caught a whiff of Iris’s scent. The unfamiliar lightness in my chest battled with a deep, familiar sense of dread. And hell if I wasn’t entirely sure which one was going to win.