Page 67 of Enticed
“Of course. You’re always welcome here,” she declared, wrapping me in a hug. Her scent was just as I remembered: a mix of potting soil and cinnamon since she was always baking or working in the garden.
I quickly made introductions before she handed us each a pail for collecting blackberries and sent us on our way.
“How do we know which ones to pick?” Rory asked, and I showed her what to look for. I’d done this so many times over the years, it was like second nature.
“If they have any red left on them, they’re not ready yet,” I reminded her a few minutes later after spotting a few in her pail that weren’t quite ripe. Moving to the next row, I plucked a berry off the vine and popped it into my mouth, savoring the tart, sweet flavor.
“Is this why you always smell like blackberries?” Gabe asked, coming to stand next to me. He reached out and picked aplump berry and inspected it before turning to me and bringing it to my lips. His eyes remained glued to my mouth as I took the blackberry from his fingers and chewed, swiping my tongue across my lips to capture the bit of juice that dripped onto them.
“Maybe,” I replied tauntingly. “They are my favorite fruit.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“But to answer your question, it’s actually my perfume.” It had been the one decent gift my ex had given me. I got rid of him but kept the perfume. I wouldn’t tell Gabe that, though. It might ruin it for him.
“Well, it’s my favorite scent in the entire world,” he proclaimed, moving in closer, "especially when the source is that delicate spot just below your ear.” He pushed away the hair that had fallen over my shoulder, and goosebumps spread across my skin at the gentle brush of his fingers over my neck. “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d bury my nose in that spot and kiss my way down your throat.” He grazed his thumb over my pulse point, and I drew in a sharp breath. “But I wouldn’t stop there. I’d run my tongue along the valley of your breasts, down over your belly, until I reached?—”
“Dad!” We both jumped and moved away at the sound of Rory’s voice in the next row. “My bucket is full. Can I get a new one?”
Gabe backed away, his eyes glowing with promise as they drank me in. “You can have mine,” he called to her. “Jasmine and I can share.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
GABE
Rory’s lips and the skin around her mouth were stained from the blackberries she’d eaten by the handful. So were her fingers. And maybe a little on her shirt. But I didn’t care. She was happy.
Once the gates opened, the rows filled up quickly with the season’s first patrons. We finished filling our pails and took our collected berries to be packed up. Lily refused to let us pay since Jasmine was family but agreed to let me purchase a pie. It was fresh out of the oven and still warm when she placed it in the box.
“What’s next?” Rory asked as we walked to the truck.
“I was thinking we could grab some lunch,” Jasmine began, “and then do something crafty.”
“Like what?” Rory asked as she slipped her hand into Jasmine’s. My chest squeezed at the sight. They walked together hand in hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Have you ever made a fairy garden before?” Jasmine asked.
“No,” Rory replied, eyes alight with intrigue. “How do we do that?”
“I’ll show you. We may need your dad to stop at the garden center for supplies, though.” Jasmine lifted her questioning gaze to me.
“Whatever you need,” I replied. I meant it in every possible way. She could ask me for anything, and if it was within my power, I would grant it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied with a sly grin and shot me a wink.
We stopped at a little cafe in town for lunch. Apparently it was a favorite spot for Jasmine’s grandma and great aunts to meet up for their knitting club since it was in Fern’s hometown. Lily’s farm also supplied a lot of the produce since she was friends with the owner.
As expected, Rory opted to sit on the other side of the booth next to Jasmine. They launched into a detailed plan for their fairy garden. Jasmine drew a rough sketch of the design they envisioned on a napkin and made a list of supplies on her phone while we waited for our food. I was content to be a silent observer simply watching the woman I loved bond with my daughter.
Loved.
I wanted to tell her. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but this thing between us was still new. She’d fought so hard for me to give us a chance, I was confident she felt the same, but I didn’t want to rush this. I also didn’t want her to think she was my rebound since she was the first woman I’d been with since the divorce.
I’d rushed into things with Celeste because of the pregnancy, and that had turned out to be a disaster. Even though we were on good terms now, we’d had a few rough years during our marriage. I wouldn’t make that mistake with Jasmine. I would take my time with her.
When we’d finished eating, I took them to the garden center and dutifully followed behind them with the cart while they excitedly gathered tiny clay pots, succulents, moss, pebbles, and a birdhouse kit.
We took it all back to my house, and they set up in the back yard under the shade tree. I did some small outside chores while they worked, sneaking inconspicuous peeks at their progress every now and then. When they got hot, I brought them drinks, but otherwise left them alone. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I didn’t want to intrude orharsh their vibeas Rory liked to say, so I plopped down in a chair on the back porch and watched as their little fairy garden came together.
