Yanecia - Nora Roberts- Garden Trilogy - Red lily

“Kraft’s mac and cheese is the packaged dinner of champions. But I’m going with frozen pizza tonight. Besides, there’s a game on.”

“You are breaking my heart. Harper, we’re young, we’re hot. You’re straight, I’m gay, which means we cover all available ground and double our chances of getting lucky. Between us we can cut a mighty swath down Beale Street. Don’t you remember, Harp?” He took Harper by the shoulders, gave him a dramatic shake. “Don’t you remember how once we ruled?”

He had to grin. “Those were the days.”

“These are still the days.”

“Don’t you remember how once we puked our guts up in the gutter?”

“Sweet, sweet memories.” David hitched himself up to sit on the counter, took Harper’s beer for one sip. “Should I be worried about you?”

“No. Why?”

“When’s the last time you had your pipes cleaned?”

“Jesus, David.” He took a gulp of beer.

“Used to be a time when the nubiles were lined up three deep on the path to your door. Now the closest you come to a bang is nuking Kraft’s in the mike.”

It was too close to the truth for comfort. “I’m on sabbatical. I guess I got tired of it,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, things have been pretty busy and intense around here for a while. The business with the Bride, especially finding out she was like my great-great-grandmother. Somebody screwed with her, messed her up. Careless, you know, callous, the way it’s playing out. I don’t want to be careless anymore.”

“You never were.” Soberly now, David boosted himself down. “How long have we been friends? Almost for fucking ever. I’ve never known you to be careless with anyone. If you’re talking sex, you’re the only person I know who stays friendly with a lover once the heat blows off. You’re not careless with people, Harper. And just because Reginald was a bastard—most likely—doesn’t mean you’re doomed to be.”

“No, I know. I’m not obsessing about it or anything. Just sort of taking stock. Just chilling awhile until I figure out what I want for the next phase.”

“You want company, I can take you up on that beer and whip up something considerably less revolting than frozen pizza.”

“I like frozen pizza.” He’d do it, Harper thought. He’d blow off his plans, just to hang, to be a pal. “Go, there’s a martini with your name on it.” He slapped a hand on David’s shoulder to lead him to the front door. “Eat, drink, make Barry.”

“Got my cell phone if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” He opened the door, leaned on the jamb. “But while you’re steaming along Beale, I’m going to be sitting in the cool, watching the Braves trounce the Mariners.”

“Pitiful, son, just pitiful.”

“And drinking beer in my underwear, which cannot be overstated.” He broke off, felt the punch straight to the belly when Hayley and Lily came around a turn of the garden.

“Now that’s a pretty sight.”

“Yeah. They look good.” The baby wore some sort of romper thing, pink and white stripes, with a little pink bow in her hair—dark hair, like her mother’s. She looked sweet as a candy stick.

And Mama—tiny blue shorts, a yard of leg, bare feet. Some skinny little white top and wraparound shades. A different kind of candy altogether. Maybe it was sweet, but it was sure as hell hot.

He tipped up the beer to cool his throat, and Lily spotted them. She let out something between a yell and a squeal—all delight—and pulling away from Hayley made a beeline toward the carriage house as fast as her little legs could manage.

“Slow down, sweet potato.” David moved forward to scoop her up, give her a toss. She patted his face with both of her hands, gabbled at him, then reached for Harper.

“As always, I’m day-old paté when you’re around.”

“Hand her over,” Harper hitched her onto his hip where she kicked her legs with joy and beamed at him. “Hey, pretty girl.”

In response, she tilted her head to lay it on his shoulder.

“What a flirt,” Hayley commented as she walked up. “Here we are having a nice walk, having a little girl-talk, she spots a couple of handsome men, and blows me off.”

“Why don’t you leave her with Harper, put on a party dress and drive on into Memphis with me?”

“Oh, I—”

“Sure.” Harper kept his voice carefully neutral as he jiggled Lily. “She can hang with me. You can bring that Portacrib thing over and I’ll put her down when she’s tired.”

“That’s nice, I appreciate it. But it’s been a long day. I don’t think I’m up for a trip to Memphis.”

“Fuds and duds, Lily.” David leaned over to kiss her. “I’m surrounded by fuds and duds. I’m flying solo then, and I better get started. See y’all.”

“I don’t mind watching her if you want to get out awhile.”

“No. I’m going to put her down pretty soon, then curl on up myself. Why aren’t you going?”

“Too hot,” he said, decided it was the easiest catchall excuse.

“Isn’t it? And you’re letting all the cool out. Come on, Lily.”

But when she tried to take the baby, Lily squirmed away and clung to Harper like ivy to a tree. The sound she made was distinctly da-da.

The flush glowed on Hayley’s cheeks even as she gave a weak laugh. “She doesn’t mean anything. Those D sounds are the easiest to make, is all. Lots of things are da-da these days. Come on, Lily.”

This time her arms circled Harper’s neck like a noose, and she started to wail.

“You want to come in for a while?”

“No, no.” She spoke quickly now, a tumble of words. “We were just taking a little walk, nearly done with it, and she has to have a bath before bedtime.”

“I’ll walk back with you.” He turned his head, kissed Lily’s cheek then whispered in her ear so she laughed and snuggled against him.

“She can’t have everything she wants.”

“She’ll have to learn that soon enough.” He reached behind him, and shut the door.

SHE MANAGED BATH and bedtime, kept herself distracted with Lily’s needs until the baby was asleep.

She tried to read, she tried TV. Too restless for either, she plugged in a yoga tape she’d bought at the mall and gave it a spin. She went down for cookies. She put on music, then turned it off.

By midnight, she was still edgy and unsettled, so gave up and went out on the terrace to take in the warm night.

The lights were on in the carriage house. His bedroom light, she assumed. She’d never been up to the second floor, or what he called the loft. Where he slept. Where he was probably in bed right now, reading a book. Naked.

She should never have walked that way with Lily. All those directions to take, and she’d headed straight toward the carriage house. As besotted as her daughter.

God, she’d nearly melted at the knees when she’d come around that turn in the path and seen him.

Leaning against the doorjamb, wearing nothing but those ragged old cutoffs. Hard chest, golden tan, his hair all curly and damp. That lazy smile on his face as he’d taken a sip from a bottle of beer.

He’d looked so sexy—a freaking billboard for sexy, framed in that cottage doorway, surrounded by flowers, sultry in the heat. She’d been amazed she’d been able to get reasonable words out of her throat when she’d been tingling the whole time, inside and out, while they’d stood there.

And she had no business tingling around Harper. It really had to stop. Why couldn’t it go back to the way it used to be? When she’d been pregnant, she’d felt comfortable around him. Even the first months after Lily’s birth she’d been easy in his company. When had it started to change on her?