4. Jordan
JORDAN
T he bell above the door rings, alerting me to a customer.
It’s been a pretty slow day so far at the store, which is fine by me.
I’ve had plenty of time to think about Huxley and our date last night.
I keep waiting for him to realize I’m not worth all the effort he’s putting in, but so far, he keeps coming back.
“Hi there,” I say as I spin around from where I was dusting off one of the display cases.
My eyes land on a tall, bearded man I recognize as Huxley’s friend from the first day he stopped by. My heart kicks into high gear as I peer around the giant of a man, hoping to see a familiar smile and bright teal eyes.
“He’s right behind me,” the man mumbles, not even asking who I’m looking for.
My cheeks heat at how obvious I’m being, but all that fades away the second Huxley walks through the door.
“Jordan,” Huxley exclaims, his face barely able to contain his grin.
I’m still not used to people being excited to see me. It takes me a second to notice the gorgeous flowers he’s holding.
“Those are beautiful,” I gasp, my eyes wandering over the colorful array of blooms.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he says smoothly as he hands me the flowers.
His friend makes a gagging noise, and I giggle.
“That’s kind of cheesy,” I tell him, even though I don’t mind one bit.
Who doesn’t love cheese? “No one has ever given me flowers before,” I add softly as I continue to admire my gift.
When I look up at Huxley, his eyebrows are drawn down, and he’s giving me a sympathetic smile. “That’s pretty pathetic, huh?”
I try looking away from him, but Huxley doesn’t let me hide.
He takes the bouquet from my hands and sets it down on the counter before turning back to me.
He offers me his hand, which I’ve noticed he does a lot.
I think it’s his way of letting me know I always have a choice. He has no idea what that means to me.
Like always, I slip my hand in his, letting him pull me closer. I’m thankful my dad is at the bank dropping off our cash deposit from yesterday, but I know he’ll be back soon. Still, I’ll soak up whatever time I have with Huxley.
“Nothing about you is pathetic, Jordan,” he tells me, his voice firm but gentle at the same time. “I’m sorry no one has ever cared for you like this, but I’m happy I get to be the one to spoil you.”
God, this man. How did I find him? Oh, that’s right. He found me. Walked right up to me and turned my whole world upside down.
“Now,” Huxley says, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he gathers my hands in his and rests them on his chest. “Can I take you on another date tonight? I have the perfect spot in mind.”
My heart sinks as I look up into those teal eyes filled with hope and excitement. There’s no way my dad will let me go out two nights in a row. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to tell Huxley that without sounding like the lamest twenty-one-year-old in the world.
“I don’t know…” I start, my breath hitching in my throat. I hate this. I hate that my father is making me choose between living the life I want while lying to him or submitting to his demands and never leaving his side.
“Hey,” Huxley murmurs. “What’s going on in your head right now? You look like you’re about to cry.”
“My dad… but that’s so stupid. And I…I mean…” I sniffle a bit but manage to keep my tears at bay.
Huxley has me folded into his arms in the next second. He cradles me in his embrace, covering me with all his strength. I breathe him in, letting him soothe every part of my broken heart.
“It must be hard to break away from your father,” he whispers. “But I’m so proud of you for trying new things and letting me take you out last night.” I nod as I snuggle further into his chest. He smells so good, and my muscles relax more and more the longer I’m in his arms. “Do you trust me?”
I manage to peel myself away from Huxley momentarily, wanting him to see the truth of my answer. “With all of me,” I say, never meaning anything more in my life.
“That’s good, sweet girl,” he praises, pressing his lips to my temple.
When we eventually break apart, an idea pops into my head. I totally forgot about it until now, but it’s perfect.
“My dad is going to be gone over the weekend. He goes on an annual trip to an auction house a few hours away. He has some friends nearby he stays with. It’s the one weekend I have to myself. But this year… I’d love to spend it with you.”
Huxley nods in a comically exaggerated way, making me laugh. “Hell yes, beautiful. Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
“I usually close the store early on Saturday, around two in the afternoon. Then I’ll have the afternoon, evening, and all of Sunday available.”
Huxley surprises me by scooping me up in his arms and twirling me around. I catch a glimpse of his bearded friend, whose name I still don’t know. The man looks at us, grumbles something, and shakes his head, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Okay, okay, my father might be coming back soon,” I tell him after several spins. Huxley reluctantly sets me down, only to press his lips to mine and bend me backward, keeping me steady with one hand spread across my back. It’s a cliché romance movie move, but I love it.
“If y’all are done with the PDA, I’d like to purchase some nails,” Huxley’s friend says.
Huxley growls, then returns me to an upright position so I can go back behind the register and ring everything up.
“I’m going to repay you the favor when you find a woman of your own,” Huxley says under his breath to his friend.
The man scoffs and shakes his head. “It’ll never happen.”
Huxley grins at his friend and claps him on the back. “Sure, buddy.”
I chuckle at the two of them, picturing them side-by-side in uniform, serving together. They’re a good match. I can see Huxley looking out for his friends. Who looks out for him, though? I hope soon it will be me.
The two men leave right as I hear my father’s car pull into the back lot. His breaks are squeaky, so it always gives me a little heads up for when he’s back home or has returned to the store after running an errand.
I gather the flowers, looking around the back room for an appropriate container. We don’t have any pretty vases or anything, even over at the house. We’ve never needed them.
I find a large tin can with a faded, vintage-looking label that matches the green and pink of my bouquet. I fill it with water, pleased that there aren’t any leaks.
No sooner do I place the flowers in the water than my father walks into the back room.
“Who the hell are those from?” he immediately asks.
Shoot. I didn’t even think about what to tell my father about Huxley’s gift.
“From a customer,” I reply, hating how easily the lie slipped off my tongue. I don’t like lying, especially about something, some one so important to me.
My dad gives me a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Am I going to have to cancel my trip this weekend?”
“No,” I assure him. “I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time you’ve left me alone. Plus, I’m an adult now, remember?”
“Don’t start with your attitude,” he says with a heavy sigh. He sounds so exhausted. I am, too. So, why do we keep doing this song and dance?
“I’m not trying to have an attitude,” I say in a softer tone. “I’m just reminding you that I’m old enough to vote, join the military, get married, and order a cocktail. I think I’m capable of spending the weekend at home.”
My father nods, though he looks between me and the bouquet several times before finally dropping the subject. I have a feeling we’ll be having a serious talk when he comes back from his weekend trip.