Chapter 28
Elsie
“No teal,” Grace says the second I step into frame so she and Olivia can see my outfit.
I’ve already tried on five or six options, and between the three of us, one or more has vetoed them all.
I video called them to help me get ready for my date with Declan, but I didn’t expect it to take so long. He’s going to be here soon.
“What’s wrong with teal?” Olivia wonders.
“Dark teal like that is a fall color,” Grace explains. “She can’t be wearing that in July. I do love the bodysuit and skirt look, though. Go find a different skirt.”
I see her hand make the shooing motion where my phone is perched on top of my dresser.
I don’t think she can see from this far away, but I roll my eyes before stepping out of frame again to dig back through my closet.
I tend to wear more dresses and pants, but I have a few skirts that I haven’t worn in a while.
I find a pink one with a white and orange pattern and slide it on over my white tank top bodysuit. It swishes around my ankles when I walk, just long enough that you can see my sandaled feet poking out and not much else.
I step into Grace and Olivia’s view and plant my hands on my hips. “Well?”
“It’s perfect,” Olivia declares.
“I love it,” Grace agrees. “Pair it with some gold jewelry and you’re set.”
Just then, the doorbell chimes. “Is that him?” Grace asks excitedly.
“I think so.” I hurry over to grab my phone from where it’s perched. “I’ve got to go. Thank you guys for your help!”
“You better call us later and tell us everything,” Olivia says.
“Will do. Love you guys. Bye!
“Love you too,” they both echo.
“Don’t forget the jewelry!” Grace yells a second before I hang up.
Just to appease her, I rifle through the jewelry box sitting on top of my dresser and find a thin gold braided necklace and a pair of small gold hoops. Using the mirror on the back of my closet door, I fasten the clasp and slide the hoops in.
I’m on my way to the kitchen when the doorbell chimes again.
Grabbing my purse from the kitchen table, I hurry over to the door, pausing for just a brief second to take a deep breath and release it.
I feel maybe an ounce more calm as I open the door – until I'm immediately struck mute by the man standing on my doorstep.
With a beautiful bouquet clutched in his hand.
A bouquet of my flowers.
Declan always looks good. Genuinely, I think he could wear a paper sack and still turn heads.
But standing on my strawberry-covered welcome mat wearing a black short-sleeved button down that hugs his chest and arms, with his hair sticking up just slightly, as if he’d been nervously running his hands through it, and my favorite flowers in his hand…
Well, he’s absolutely delectable.
“Hi,” he finally says, breaking the silence. I look up to find him grinning down at me. A real grin, not the smug, sarcastic smirk I’ve come to know and love.
“Declan. Hi,” I say back awkwardly.
Elsie Carmichael, wordsmith extraordinaire.
“These are for you,” Declan says, holding out the bouquet of flowers I immediately recognized as being from the delivery we received on Friday.
“I had Noah put something together for me when you stepped out to get lunch yesterday. I didn’t want to accidentally pick one out that you had put together.
Figured you deserved to have flowers assembled by someone else for a change. ”
Swoon.
I take the bouquet from his outstretched hand and inhale, burying my smile in the fresh blooms. Sunflowers, daisies and lavender – the exact arrangement I told Noah I’d been wanting to try putting together.
“They’re perfect,” I tell Declan. “Thank you.” I step back into the kitchen, opening the door a bit wider. “Come in for a minute while I find a vase for these.”
He steps over the threshold and the butterflies in my belly immediately take flight.
There’s something about having him here, in my space, that feels like a big step.
We’re not just flirting and bantering at work, or hooking up in hidden corners while we’re still on the clock.
He’s here, in my home. This is a real, tangible thing that now exists outside of those redbrick walls on Main Street.
That fact both terrifies and excites me.
“Did you know this lavender actually comes from the field you just drove past?” I ask to fill the quiet while I find a vase under my kitchen sink and begin filling it with water.
“Only because you told me your landlords are your lavender supplier,” Declan says, surprising me. I can’t believe he remembered. “It’s pretty cool that you can get stuff like that locally.”
“It is,” I agree. “We buy a lot of stuff wholesale and have it delivered, but there are some things we’re able to get from local farmers.
If you ever find yourself driving north out of Port Myles, you’ll pass the sunflower farm where these came from.
Sunflowers don’t transport well, so we’re lucky to have a farm nearby to buy ours from. ”
I snip the ends of the stems over the trash and put the bouquet in the blue glass vase by the kitchen sink, where they’ll get plenty of sunlight. I leave the plastic wrap around the flowers for now; I can deal with that later.
“All set,” I say, turning to face Declan. I gasp, startled to find him just a step away from me. I hadn’t heard him move across the room.
“Sorry to scare you,” he chuckles. His eyes bounce between mine, as if searching for something. “Would it be improper if I kissed you before our date?”
“Maybe,” I tell him. Disappointed, he moves to take a step back, but I reach out and grab the front of his shirt to stop him. “But do it anyway.”
Declan doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps closer, eating up the space between us until our bodies are nearly flush.
I’d left my hair down today, despite the temperature outside, and Declan wastes no time sinking his fingers into it, cradling the back of my scalp and tipping my face up to meet his.
He plants a searing kiss on my lips, one that has my back arching and my lips gasping against his.
Every time we kiss, it feels as shocking as the very first time.
I’ve had some decent kisses in my life, but nothing like this.
As his lips devour mine and I feel the stroke of his tongue against my own, I clutch at his sides for something to anchor me in place, so I don’t do something foolish like fling my arms around him and climb him like a tree.
I don’t know how much time passes – seconds or minutes, who can keep track? – but finally, Declan nips lightly at my bottom lip and leans back. When he cradles my jaw in his hand and brushes his thumb across my lower lip, I nearly purr.
“We better get out of here,” Declan laughs. “I swear, I have a real date planned and everything. I didn’t come here just to maul you in your kitchen.”
I swallow, moving my eyes to his throat to avoid his eye. “I think I’d let you, if that was your plan.”
“Fuck,” Declan mutters. “Don’t tempt me.” He takes a step back to create some distance between us and I grab my purse from the counter where I’d set it.
“Ready?” I ask.
Declan reaches down and grabs my hand, threading our fingers together. He surprises me when he brings our hands to his mouth and plants a soft kiss on the back of mine.
“Beyond,” he says. “Let’s go.”
∞
Declan wasn’t kidding when he said he had a whole date planned.
I’d expected him to take me to one of the restaurants in town, or maybe somewhere closer to Portland, so I was surprised when we parked near the water and walked over to the park instead.
I didn’t see it at first, but as we got closer to my favorite old oak tree where I used to sit and read as a teen, I noticed the red and white checkered blanket with a giant picnic basket sitting beside it.
And I mean giant – the amount of food and drinks Declan managed to fit inside the thing is astounding.
“I can’t believe you did all of this,” I say, not for the first time.
I’m sitting crisscrossed, thankful for the long skirt my friends convinced me (bullied me) to wear, eating a handful of green grapes.
Declan packed more food than the two of us could ever eat by ourselves: turkey and ham sandwiches, four different kinds of cheese and at least as many types of crackers, fruit, cheese-stuffed olives, a few types of chips, and an assortment of sparkling waters and sodas.
The basket reminds me of the grandmother’s purse in “Hocus Pocus” – absolutely bottomless, somehow fitting more inside than should be humanly possible.
“It’s really not that much,” Declan says, though the smile threatening to tug one corner of his mouth up tells me that he’s pleased with himself.
He pops an olive into his mouth and chews, and I find myself wondering how I could possibly find the motion of his jaw working so attractive.
But good lord, I do. I want to reach out and stroke my fingers across the stubbled skin there.
“I used to sit under this tree for hours when I was a teen,” I tell him, needing a distraction from my unruly thoughts.
“I’d bring snacks and a big bottle of iced tea, and I’d sit here and read for a full afternoon.
When I needed to give my eyes a break, I’d just lean against the tree and watch the boats go by. I love this spot.”
Declan leans back on his hands, watching me carefully. “A happy coincidence that I picked it, then.”
It’s silly, probably, to think this way, but it almost feels a little bit like fate.
That this man who knows me so well after such a short time happened to pick one of my favorite spots in town to have our first date.
That he somehow knew I’d enjoy sitting out here with him like this, rather than in a crowded restaurant.
It makes me want to learn about him the way he’s been cataloguing little details about me.