One of his hands had snagged my upper arm, and before I knew what was happening, he was wiping some of the steak soup off my arm, muttering about me burning my soft, petal-like skin.
I don’t know what it was about those words, but they stuck with me. He thinks I feel like rose petals. I loved how his touch was rough against my skin. I could tell he uses his hands every day. He has the hands of a real man.
The men I was used to didn’t have that roughness to them like Sully does, even though they were supposed to be our protectors. Theirs were probably softer than even mine, honestly. Not a single one of them knew the meaning of hard work. I hate their hands. Especially Jeremiah’s—he was to be my husband. Anytime one of his would even graze my hand or arm, my whole body would freeze inside. It didn’t matter if it was over a hundred degrees out, everything inside of me went ice cold. It scared me down to my very core.
Where I grew up, the higher-ups were the men who stood at the front of the room and spouted all kinds of things from the books in their hands. The same books they made us all read too. It only confused me more because I never thought we were reading the same ones. The passages inside of them meant something totally different to me than the way they portrayed them.
I only brought that up one time, though. I learned a hard lesson real quick. I'm reminded of it when I glimpse my bare back in a mirror and see the two thin faded white lines across it. It’s crazy how I knew when they struck me it was wrong, but still when I catch sight of those scars, shame fills me in the worst of ways. I might have escaped them, but they still hold on to parts of me. They haunt me in ways I fear I’ll never escape no matter how far I run.
My dark thoughts lift when I see Sully sitting in his normal corner booth all the way at the end. His back is to the wall so he can see everyone that enters and exits. I smile at him as I grab the pot of coffee from the burner. When he returns it, my insides melt the same way they do every time this man is near.
At this moment, I’m not the lost, homely girl with no real purpose. I’m the girl that got Sully to smile. A rare treat that’s better than any cake Dixie could ever make.
3
SULLY
“Did you have a good day?” she asks as she pours my coffee.
“I did. How about you? Did you get the Epsom salts worked into the soil?”
“Yes.” She beams. “I hope it can work some magic. My poor tomatoes are hanging on by a thread.”
“They’ll perk up.” I reconsider sneaking into her garden and doing a little upkeep. I don’t want to take anything away from her, but maybe a few late-night waterings and fertilizing might not be so bad. Besides, what’s a little assistance between neighbors?
“Do you want your usual?” She leans her thigh against the table, her creamy skin in sharp relief against the chrome of the table.
It would be so easy for me to just reach out and slide my finger down her thigh. Just a little touch. The urge to do it rides me something fierce, but I put my hands in my lap. Orchid doesn’t need an asshole like me touching her. Even though I’d give anything to make her moan.
“Sully, you okay?” She leans down. “Your cheeks went sort of red for a second there.”
“I’m fine.” I’m glad I’m sitting down with the table hiding everything going on in parts south. Orchid always does that to me. Makes me warm, makes me hard, makes me want things I can’t have. “The usual sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll put the order in. Oh, and Dixie’s made a new cake tonight. Strawberry.” She leans closer, conspiratorially, and I get that sweet honeysuckle scent. “I went ahead and quality tested it. It’s delicious. You should get a slice.”
I turn my head, my mouth close to hers, our eyes locked. Her pupils flare, and I can almost feel when her pulse begins to race.
“If it’s as sweet as you, I’ll have to try it.” My voice is gravelly and gruff.
She swallows hard then licks her lips. Jeez, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? I have the briefest mental flash of bending her over this table and giving her every inch of me, the diners be damned.
“Hey, Sully. You busy later?” Roxie’s voice cuts through the music from the jukebox.
Orchid seems to snap out of her trance and stands up straight. “I was just getting his order.”