Page 46 of A Lot Like Lavender

I haven’t given a name to what’s happening between us, but cuddling on my couch until we fell asleep and forehead kisses at respectable intervals feels dangerously outside of friendship territory. Though, friendship does feel foundational in this instance.

Jordan knew the girl I was before being orphaned as a young adult. He knew me well during the years after, marred by the dichotomy of grief and hope, before widowhood shaped me into someone completely new. He was friends with the version of me that I hardly remember, and yet, he also sees me as I am now.

A little broken and bruised. Hiding emotions from the world that, for reasons I still don’t understand, I don’t feel as if I need to hide from him. Jordan sees all of me, and hekeeps showing up. For me and for Molly. It’d be wholly foolish for me to pretend I don’t feel something for him. Something beyond the relief of one old friend showing up for another.

Therefore, I plan to milk every second I get in Jordan’s arms before overthinking how good this all feels and whether or not it is, in fact, good and worthy of exploring. And, so help me, I will get to the bottom of how the man always seems to smell like a fresh field in summertime.

“I’m thinking of making a change, ya know?” I say, all nonchalance. If he doesn’t know how badly I want it, I bet he’ll give me the goods. “Right now, we use free and clear. No additives. Good stuff. So, so, so good. But… Molly loves the scent of fresh linen.”

I shrug, like,what can you do?

“Oh,” he smirks. The sun shines on his blonde hair, casting perfect light over his handsome face. Jordan is beautiful, and he smells like how it feels to sit in the sunshine on a freshly cut lawn. “So Molly loves the scent, huh?”

“Yeah.” I bite down on my smile, forgetting to cover my rancid breath, unbelievably happy with how this morning is playing out. If the girls were to ask me again what was the last thing I did for myself, this moment would be at the top. “Just call it market research.”

I thrust my face into his chest again, sniffing deeply and smiling like a loon against his skin. If I were braver and bolder than I am, I’d place a kiss there, too. Right where I feel his heart beating rapidly. Where the tattoo of a pair of aces lives.

“It’s for science,” I say instead. “And Molly.”

“Oh, for scienceandMolly…” He pins me down as his fingers slowly trail along my side.

I grow still, terrified and yet desperate for where this willlead, until Jordan’s fingers find my bare waist and dig in, tickling every spot there, up my torso, and under my arms, while I wiggle and jerk like a madwoman trying to escape, laughing louder and harder than I have in longer than I can remember.

“Tell me you think I smell delicious.”

“Never! I love linen, Jordan! Linen and nothing more.”

“Say it, Red!” His hands are everywhere, yet still manage to impede my squirming. “You think I smell amazing.”

“Clean sheets… Cotton…” I yell through breathless giggles. “Freshly. Laundered. Clothes… hanging on a line. That’s it!”

“Dirty.” He shifts quickly, flipping me over, sitting on my butt, and reaching down to grab my feet.

“Jordan. No.” I wriggle to no avail.

“Little.” One sock slips off. The other quickly follows. “Liar.”

“Fine!” I relent. Only because my bladder is weak and I fear if this continues, I’ll have an accident from which I’ll never recover. He pauses, and I thank Jesus I do my kegels at every red light.

“Say it,” he whispers playfully.

“You smell… decent.” His fingers shift back to my feet. “Fine-uh! You smell amazing, okay? It’s a mystery that has to be solved, and I’d like to take a bath in whatever that scent is.”

Pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, a new piece of skin previously untouched, he says, sexier than the sentence should ever be, “I use free and clear, too.”

So that scent—his scent—is entirely Jordan. Perfect.

Cool. Cool. Cool.

Before I know what’s happening, I’ve beenflipped to my back again and Jordan’s tickling me into oblivion, only stopping when he can’t hold me down any longer because of his own laughter. It’s then that we hear a throat clear.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Dinah’s voice chimes across what should be my empty living room.

I panic, rapidly pushing Jordan off of my body. Nothing more than a teenager caught horizontal with a half-naked boy. He falls comically to the floor at the feet of Jack, Dinah, and Molly, who throws herself onto him and yells, “Ace!” as she squeezes his waist.

“I missed you! I didn’t know you were having another slumber party!”

“I missed you, kiddo. So much.” He hugs her like he hasn’t seen her in years but then quickly grabs the shirt he tossed onto the floor in the middle of the night and slips it onto his body. It’s a necessary evil, but I swear, all that skin being covered up is a crying shame.