19. Violet
nineteen
Violet
DAY 18 AT SILVER LEAF... ONLY 68 TO GO
Daisy appears at my bedroom door, drops a stack of dresses on the bed with a satisfied grunt, then drags a compact suitcase up onto the mattress next to them. She unzips it and flings the lid open, then considers her delivery with her hands on her hips.
“This is nearly everything I own. There’s got to be something in here that’ll make every man at The Tipple take one look at us then proceed to cry into his beer for the rest of the night.”
I watch her. I hear her. But I don’t see her. My heart beats too fast to be healthy, and my thoughts are two minutes in the past, frozen at the exact moment Chord was close enough that we breathed the same air. Warm, delicious air from warm, delicious lips that would have brushed mine if… if…
My eyes focus on Daisy, and with her halo of golden waves and impish grin, she’s impossible to hate. Even if she did interrupt the most romantic moment of my life.
Her expression folds into concern as she comes over and clasps my hand. Tight. “Are you okay? Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
I laugh a little. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. I was just… thinking about other things.”
Her mouth purses to one side as she arches one eyebrow. “Like my brother?”
Warmth tingles across my cheekbones. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little, but it’s not your fault. He came flying down those stairs like I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing.” Her eyes twinkle as she drops her head to one side. “Something like his assistant?”
I stare at her blankly until her words make sense. “What? No! I mean, we were dancing, and he leaned in a little, and then…”
Daisy drops her chin expectantly. “And then… you kissed him?”
“No.” The blush burns hotter as I admit, “Not yet.”
I’ve grown to know Daisy a little better over the last week. She’s brought Izzy around twice more since that afternoon on the back porch, and Chord’s baby sister is so vibrant and sweet that I could listen to her talk for hours. She’s shown me her tattoos, shared pictures of her hair in a hundred different shades of pink, purple, and blue, and told me about the locations she’s been all over the world.
Daisy is my polar opposite and genuinely scandalized that I have no body art, have never dyed my hair, and have never traveled further than the west coast. And while I haven’t been nearly as forthcoming with her about my own life—compared to Daisy’s adventures, mine is a sad lot of not much and not quite —I have told her a little about Courtney and the boyfriend I had for five minutes in college. She declared me too good for both of them.
I like her, and I love the way she just assumes I know how to do… this . Talk. Listen. Relax. Enjoy her company. Share my secrets.
Daisy shakes her head and turns to the bed, tossing clothes left and right. “While I’d love to talk about my brother for hours”—the eye roll she throws my way underscores her sarcasm, just in case I missed it—“there are more important things to worry about right now, like what are we going to wear tonight?” She throws a shimmery silver skirt to one side with a sigh. “I’ve worn everything at least a dozen times, and none of it makes me feel good anymore. I need to go shopping.”
I scan the mountain of fabrics without much hope, wondering if there’s something—anything—I can salvage in my own wardrobe, but then a hint of deep purple catches my attention.
It’s a tight-knit top, and it’s got potential. I dig around and discover a pair of high-waisted shorts that match, then remember the belt I’ve got in my closet that’ll bring the two pieces together.
Daisy has a pouch full of costume jewelry in her suitcase, and there are a couple of pieces in there that aren’t too flashy, plus she’s brought over three pairs of heels.
Within five minutes, I’ve laid a top-to-toe outfit on the bed. I take a step back and study it with satisfaction.
Daisy materializes at my side, fists on hips again, staring up at me like I’ve been hiding a secret. “Um… wow?” She runs a critical eye over the clothes and nods approvingly. “I never thought of matching these pieces before, but they look fantastic together. How did you know?”
I shrug to hide the fact that I’m pleased. For just a second, I’m tempted to confess the truth about my degree, but telling a second person in as many days about my failed fashion career is too much. “I just like clothes.”
“Well, you’re going to look hot in this.”
“Oh, no.” I consider the outfit again, this time imagining myself in it instead of Daisy as I planned, and an anxious chuckle bubbles out of me. “This is for you.”
“No chance. This purple top has your name all over it, Violet. Literally. I’m sure you’ve got shoes you can wear.”
I do have a pair of heeled ankle boots that might work, but that’s beside the point. “The shorts are too short for me.”
“Bullshit. You’ve got incredible legs, and you should show them off. Now that’s settled, what can you do for me?”
Daisy has the bearing of a tiny drill sergeant, and I don’t like my chances of arguing with her, so I grimace and poke at the clothes again. Another five minutes later, and with a few carefully selected additions from my own wardrobe, I’ve put together a second outfit that Daisy approves with an enthusiastic round of applause.
“You’re a natural at this,” she marvels as she strips off her clothes, and the compliment puts little roses on my cheeks. “Now, the quicker we get dressed, the sooner we can do hair and makeup, and the faster I can get a drink in my hand and my booty on the dance floor.”
As optimistic as Daisy is, it still takes an hour to get ready because she insists on curling my hair and giving me smokey eye makeup. When she lines my lips with a bright red pencil, I barely recognize myself, and when she asks if I have contact lenses, I begrudgingly put them in. A spritz of perfume later, and she’s shooing me out the bedroom door.
Daisy leads the way down the stairs. “I hope you’re ready for a big night, Vi. I plan to dance till Mona kicks us out.”
“Mona?”
“The owner. You’re going to love her. When I was growing up, Mona’s daughter was my best friend. Plus, she makes the best white wine sangria you’ll ever taste.”
I tug at my shorts and think about meeting new people tonight, dancing with strangers, and having my first real cocktail. A wave of worry flips my stomach, and I glance back at the way we came. In another world, I’d be in bed with a microwave dinner, my headphones, and my sketchbook right now. Part of me yearns for what’s safe and familiar. Another part—a more powerful part—is too exhilarated to turn back now.
We stop to collect our purses and do a final check of our faces in the hall mirror by the front door. Daisy suddenly jumps, letting out a little squeak and splaying her fingers over her chest.
“Jesus, Chord. Creepy much?”
She turns from her reflection and steps into the dark living room behind us. Only then do I notice the tall, broad shadow leaning on the back of the sofa. Daisy finds a switch and snaps on the light.
Chord’s eyes are already on me, his gaze burning across my body. He starts at my white boots and sears a path up my bare legs, over my hips and chest, then reaches my mouth. When he meets my eyes, his fingers tighten where his hands rest on the back of the sofa, and his jaw hardens.
Things flutter inside me. At my throat. In my stomach. Between my thighs.
“Why the hell are you creeping around in the dark, weirdo?” Daisy turns back to the mirror and fluffs her shiny blonde waves. “I know you can afford the electricity bill.”
Chord grunts and pushes upright, crossing those magnificent arms over his chest. “I wanted to make sure you know to call me if you need a ride.” He pauses while his eyes trail over my outfit again. “Or maybe I’ll go with you and keep you out of trouble.”
Daisy snorts as she leans closer to the mirror and examines her makeup, running a finger under her bottom lip to catch a smudge. “This is a girls ’ night, Chord, and if there’s any trouble, I’ll take care of it.”
“How are you getting to the bar?” Chord moves closer, and though he’s talking to Daisy, his eyes don’t leave me. “How will you get home?”
Daisy finds her phone, opens her ride share app in three efficient swipes, and flashes the screen—along with a triumphant grin—at Chord. “Our car will be here in ninety seconds. And like magic, we’ll do the same thing at two a.m. when our feet are sore, and our heads are spinning, and we’re begging for bacon sandwiches.”
He’s listening to Daisy, I’m sure of it, but Chord hasn’t looked away from me. His focus is intense enough that my heart is a hummingbird in my chest.
I tear my eyes from him and pretend to check myself in the mirror, but all I can see is Chord in the reflection, his stormy blue eyes leaping at these tiny shorts that barely conceal my ass.
My fingers shake as I apply another coat of lip gloss. Chord watches the wand glide across my mouth, and my pulse jumps. I’ve never been this aware of my body. I’m nervous. I’m aroused.
“Fine.” Chord finally graces Daisy with a scowl. “But you’ll call if you need me.”
“I will, big brother. Thank you.”
He clears his throat and softens his tone. “And you, Violet? You’ve got my number.”
I meet his stare in the mirror. “I do, and I will. Thank you.”
He nods. “Good.”
There’s the sound of a car pulling up outside, and Daisy escapes through the door. But as I move to follow her, Chord stops me with a firm but gentle grip on my upper arm. His hand is large enough to wrap all the way around my slender bicep—a reminder of just how powerful this man is—but I love it, especially when his thumb brushes my skin in a reassuring sweep, sending goosebumps rippling in all directions.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.
I lower my eyes. “Thank you.”
Using his free hand, he tilts my chin upward, the way he did in my bedroom, and his mouth lifts to one side as he notes the heat seeping into my cheeks. “Eyes up, Wallflower. And keep them up.”
I blink and meet his cobalt gaze, and he holds me there for the longest second before he nods once in approval.
“Have a good time tonight.”
I laugh lightly. “I’ll try. Your sister is much wilder than me. I’m not sure I’ll keep up.”
“I meant what I said.” Chord lets me go and steps aside to let me pass, but he’s still close enough to touch. To breathe in and consume. “Call me anytime.”
“Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. Who knows? I might be such a lousy dancer that we’ll be home before midnight.”
He doesn’t laugh, and if anything, his expression grows more serious. “Promise me. I won’t sleep otherwise.”
The incessant fluttering grows intense, most noticeably between my legs. “Okay. I promise.”
I slip through the door and into the porch-lit twilight, aware of his eyes on me as I walk to the neat white sedan waiting on the drive. Glancing back, I see that he watches from the doorway as I slip into the backseat next to Daisy, and he’s still there when we turn onto the road and drive out of sight.