Chapter Ten
Birdie was exhausted.
Physically, her body hurt from the grape stomping and the sprinting between stations.
And mentally, she couldn’t get her damn brain to shut down.
It kept replaying Alexis’s face over and over.
The panic when she’d slipped on the grapes.
The surprise when Birdie had said she suited Provence.
The way she would find Birdie’s gaze, either accidentally or on purpose, and then whip her head away like she’d just witnessed two people kissing passionately.
But no matter how tired she felt, sleep just wasn’t coming. Which was why Birdie dragged herself from the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Bianca was snoring, a whistle-like snore that didn’t help Birdie’s insomnia.
The villa was quiet enough that she could hear the dim chirp of crickets somewhere outside.
When she reached the kitchen, a large space with a limestone countertop, cabinets painted the soft green of sage leaves, and a backsplash of hand-painted tiles in cobalt and burnt orange, she was surprised at how dark the usually sun-flooded space was.
Outside, the moon was covered by a dense blanket of cloud. Not that Birdie bothered with a switch. She didn’t need any light to know where the fridge was. She headed straight for the double doors in a way only muscle memory allowed and yanked them open.
There was a jug of ice water on the top shelf and, next to it, a line of imported water bottles. Birdie settled on a bottle and twisted off the cap. When the cold water ran down her throat, she felt an exaggerated sense of relief. But not enough to convince herself that everything would be fine.
Her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Alexis and to tomorrow’s lavender ceremony. Her heart suddenly fluttered like she imagined it would do if she ever were to find herself drowning. She knew Alexis wouldn’t let her stay.
Someone cleared their throat.
Birdie flinched so hard she stumbled back and hit the kitchen island with her hip. The water bottle nearly slipped from her hand and almost rolled to the floor. But she managed to hold on to it and darted her eyes, straining against the dark. When they finally adjusted, she saw Alexis.
The bachelorette was leaning against the counter, far enough in the shadows that Birdie had missed her at first. She had her arms folded over her chest, clad in a silky pajama set with a neat button placket and white cuffs.
“What the hell, Alexis,” Birdie spluttered before her brain could catch up with her mouth. “You just gave me the fright of my life.”
Alexis didn’t say anything. She simply reached behind her, and with an audible click, the overhead light snapped on. Bright light washed over the kitchen. Birdie flinched, not only because it was far too intense for her eyes but because she suddenly felt completely exposed.
It didn’t matter that Alexis had already seen her naked. And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t actually naked.
“It’s late,” Alexis said, still standing there as still as a statue.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Birdie said, her voice feeling way too loud in such a quiet house. “And I was thirsty.” She lifted the bottle of water like it was both a shield and an excuse and added, “Just needed some water.”
Alexis pushed herself off the counter and nodded like it made perfect sense. Because it did. Why wouldn’t it? For a second, Birdie thought she was going to leave, but then she rounded the island to the pantry door and came out with a box of Cocoa Puffs tucked under one arm.
No hesitation. No explanation. She just grabbed a bowl and spoon, then brushed past Birdie on her way to the fridge. Birdie’s throat went drier than it already was. She could practically feel the heat radiating off Alexis as her sleeve ghosted against her arm.
“Cereal is a great midnight snack,” Birdie muttered awkwardly as hell. “It’s my dad’s go-to. Except he swears by Lucky Charms.”
Again, Alexis didn’t reply.
She returned to the island, settled onto a stool, and poured the cereal, then the milk, before she dug her spoon in and took a bite. She didn’t offer any to Birdie. Didn’t even glance in her direction. She simply sat there, clinking the spoon against the porcelain as if Birdie were invisible.
Birdie had enough self-awareness to know that Alexis didn’t want her here in the kitchen. Which was exactly why she wasn’t going anywhere. She dragged out a stool adjacent to Alexis and sat down anyway.
“How was your date with Lyra?” she asked, resting her elbows on the counter.
Alexis froze mid-bite. Her spoon hovered in the air, dripping milk back into the bowl. “What a strange question.”
“Is it?” Birdie asked, shifting slightly. She’d read enough books to know the definition of strange, and that was most certainly not it. “I would’ve thought asking someone about their day was normal.”
“There’s nothing normal going on here.”
“You mean the show?”
Alexis dropped her spoon into the bowl. “You know what I mean.”
Birdie knew exactly what she meant, but knowing didn’t make her back down.
The two of them acting like they could hold a civil conversation was not normal.
“Can we just stop with this?” she asked, dragging her fingers through her hair.
She hadn’t bothered to look at herself in the mirror on the way out of her bedroom. Who knew what state her bangs were in.
“With what?” Alexis asked.
“You know what I mean,” Birdie retorted, feeling like a smart ass. And maybe she was one, but maybe she just desperately wanted a reaction out of Alexis other than contempt.
The sides of Alexis’s lips quirked, just briefly, but there was definitely something, and Birdie felt a surprising amount of satisfaction. So much so that she couldn’t help the cockiness in her voice when she asked once again, “So how was it?”
“It was fine,” Alexis replied. “We went to a lavender farm just outside Valensole. Walked through the rows just as the sun was setting. We had rosé and tarte aux figues at the little stone café, and Lyra talked about her job as a medical aesthetician in Boston and what she did on weekends. And I listened.”
“Did you like it?”
Alexis didn’t look up. She stirred her cereal slowly, milk sloshing against the bowl with each turn of the spoon. “Like what? The lavender fields? The tart? Lyra?”
“All of it.”
Alexis finally glanced up. She frowned, just slightly. A faint crease formed between her brows, and suddenly Birdie had this insane desire to want to sit on her lap just to see it up close.
“Birdie,” she said softly. It was like a warning, like permission, or like maybe Alexis wanted Birdie on her lap too.
“What?” Birdie said. “I’m just asking a simple question.”
But was her question really that simple?
Was it not loaded with something else, something even Birdie couldn’t understand?
Maybe the reason Birdie clung so hard to the hope Alexis wouldn’t send her home was because she felt close to her, and because Alexis’s naked skin had once pressed against hers, and her face had been between her thighs.
Didn’t Birdie know her better than the rest?
And for that reason, didn’t she deserve to stay?
Alexis didn’t answer right away. She simply stared at Birdie for the longest time. So long Birdie actually thought nothing else would be said for the rest of the night.
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. And then between her legs too.
Then Alexis blinked and set her spoon down with a quiet clink against the porcelain bowl. “You don’t make things easy, Birdie.”
Birdie tilted her head. “Do you want easy?” she asked, not sure why she had just said that.
Maybe it was the exhaustion. She should go back to bed.
She should go back into the room and tell Bianca to roll over so she could get some sleep, and tomorrow she’d wake up with a clear head.
A head that accepted when Alexis gave the last lavender bouquet to someone else.
But she didn’t do any of those things. “Something tells me Alexis Wolf likes things complicated,” she said instead.
“And we both know whatever is going on between us—”
“There’s nothing going on between us,” Alexis interrupted.
“Really?” Birdie asked. “Because I keep catching you staring at me.”
Alexis scoffed, but it was weak, almost embarrassingly so. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, I’ve got a vivid imagination,” Birdie said, leaning forward on her elbows. “But I don’t think I imagined your hand on my hip today. Or the way you looked at me like you wanted to devour me at the picnic.”
“That was an accident, and I was looking at the food on your plate.”
“No, it wasn’t, and your eyes were locked on mine.”
Alexis’s jaw tightened. “You talk too much.”
“And you don’t talk enough,” Birdie shot back, her pulse thrumming as the memory of that night in Portland came swooshing back.
There had been very little talking. Very little of anything, in fact, and maybe that was the issue.
Birdie was someone who filled silence with words, who over explained, who tried too hard.
And Alexis was the opposite, which was probably why Birdie couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Something flickered in Alexis’s eyes. It was a spark that could’ve been irritation or intrigue, or maybe even both. Whatever it was, it made Birdie’s knees knock together under the counter.
Then Alexis shoved her stool back. The scrape against the tile was way too loud in the quiet kitchen, and Birdie’s stomach flipped like a pancake on a griddle.
Alexis stood and then walked toward Birdie.
Birdie barely had time to suck in a breath before Alexis’s mouth was on hers. Teeth grazed Birdie’s bottom lip, sharp enough to sting. Then Alexis sucked Birdie’s lower lip between hers like she owned it while her hand slid to the back of Birdie’s neck. Her fingers curled at the base.
Before Birdie could process whatever the hell was happening, Alexis’s free hand found her hip and tugged just enough to completely unseat Birdie.
Her stool wobbled, and before she knew it, she was standing with her back pressed against the cool edge of the counter.
Her spine jolted against it, but it didn’t matter because her mouth was too busy to complain.
“I didn’t think this would happen tonight,” Birdie whispered as her fingers fisted the hem of Alexis’s shirt. The soft silk bunched under her palms, and she tugged like she might pull Alexis closer even though there was literally no space left between them.
“You’re always talking,” Alexis muttered.
She slid her hand down Birdie’s side, past the edge of her pajama shorts.
Her fingertips skimmed Birdie’s bare thigh, and Birdie gasped into the kiss.
Alexis swallowed it just as her other hand flattened against the counter beside Birdie’s hip, caging her in. “How about you just—”
A floorboard suddenly creaked in the hallway, cutting her off. Both of them froze.
Birdie expected her to pull away and rush out of the kitchen like nothing had happened, but instead her lips grazed Birdie’s jaw as she whispered. “Come with me to my room.”