When the waiter stepped away, she snorted. “Seriously?”
Parker’s face split with a grin. “Watch, they’ll actually bring you lemons.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Well, you ordered them. Is that all I’m having for dinner?”
“Of course not. We’ll get you some croutons or something.” He found great amusement in the silly things wealth could garner, and he made a game of appearing as eccentric as money could buy.
The waiter returned with a basket of breadsticks and hesitated. “Sir, would you like the lemons with your meal or before?”
“With, of course. And could you please bring us two walnuts in the shell.”
The man glanced around, likely looking for a hidden camera. His gaze turned to her, as she did her best to remain straight-faced and as stoic as her date.
With a sigh, the waiter nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Isadora shook her head. “You’re going to give him a panic attack.”
Parker took two breadsticks from the basket and stuck them in his mouth like walrus tusks. “Okay, fine. I’ll cancel the lemons and order you a meal if you show me some good breadstick teeth.”
Her eyes widened. “This is a nice restaurant.”
“I know,” he mumbled, his words muddled from the breadsticks. “Do you think they’ll throw uth out?”
Her brow twitched as she tried to decide if that might be his goal. The restaurant staff was perfectly aware they had a Patras and a Hughes sitting in their elegant dining room, but…
Screw it. She reached into the basket and took out two sticks, positioning them behind her upper lip against her gums.
Parker snorted. “Yer duh thexietht walruth I ever thaw.”
She laughed—hard. “Is your mouth getting a little dry?”
“Jutht a little.”
The waiter returned, spotting her first. His eyes widened as he tried to mask his shock at finding a woman in his station wearing breadstick fangs, but it was too late.
Parker discreetly removed his breadsticks, but she wasn’t as stealthy. A hot flush climbed up her neck as she plucked them from her mouth, feeling quite ridiculous and sheepish.
The server turned to Parker, who sat, hands folded and posture straight, appearing as well-mannered as any upper-class patron.
“Your walnuts, sir.”
“Thank you.” Parker glanced at her and back to the server. “This is her first time to a restaurant. I apologize.”
Stammering for a reply, the waiter turned and walked away.
She scoffed and kicked him under the table. “Parker!”
His laughter burst out in a frenzied show of good fun. “You should have seen the look on your face, gawking up at him with fangs askew.”
As embarrassed as she was, she couldn’t help but laugh. So what if she wore bread tusks at a celebrated restaurant? And she was pretty sure the man sitting a few tables away was an associate of her brother’s. She’d never laughed so hard during a meal.
His smile froze and his gaze steadied on her, quelling her laughter. “There it is,” he whispered.
Still smiling, she tipped her head, unsure what he was referring to. “What?”
“Your kiss. Tucked away like a charm in the corner of your mouth, hidden from all the unmagical things of adult life. But when you laugh, it comes out to play.”
Her fingers lifted to her cheek, grazing the divot where a dimple sometimes showed. He had such an incredible memory when it came to literary references. “That’s from Peter Pan, isn’t it?”
His eyes creased, his smile telling her she was correct. Parker’s stare seemed to reach across the table, unraveling between them like a soft caress, and holding her in its grip.
Gaze soft and hypnotic, he whispered, “He got all of her … except for her kiss.”
Any sense of silliness vanished as her smile trembled on her lips. It was such an accurate and flattering assessment. He wasn’t just telling her he thought she was beautiful but also recognizing that she was fragile. And he was telling her she was resilient.
Sawyer took a lot of things from her. He owned a lot of her firsts, but after all the happiness and heartache, she could still smile without him. He hadn’t stolen her kiss.
Parker’s fingers closed around hers on the table. “I’m glad you didn’t give your kiss away, m’lady. It’s the prettiest part of your smile.”
Her lips pursed as another burst of butterflies took flight in her belly, tickling even the breath in her lungs. “You’re making me blush.”
He raised his brow. “Another favorite part.”
She used to read Peter Pan to Toni. There was another part where Peter forgets what a kiss is, so he gives Wendy Darling an acorn button. Isadora didn’t have an acorn button, but she had two walnuts.
As silly as it was, she kept those nuts, right beside her most valuable jewels in a chest in her room. She never wanted to forget how he described her kiss, and when she was old and wrinkled, she’d come across that walnut and be reminded that she was most beautiful when she was happy.
Parker made her happy.
Their relationship was a collection of odd inside jokes and unpredicted moments that made her laugh long after the days were over. She adored his sense of humor, cracked up at his sarcasm, and found it fascinating how he could transition from teasing and playful to serious and intense.
In a lot of ways, Parker was his own Peter Pan. Yes, he was a grown man who knew how to take care of himself and manage just fine, but hidden below the surface was a lost boy, an orphaned child who faced too many challenges to find time to play.
The irony was, she also hid a lost girl. For as different as their adolescence was, the abandonment, the difficult decisions placed on a set of small shoulders, that part was the same.
Perhaps she needed someone in her life to teach her the world didn’t always have to be a serious place. Parker seemed the perfect man for the job.
It was far too early to think of four letter words, but being with him felt like falling. It was fast, thrilling, and something she couldn’t stop once it started.
It took only one glance from those watchful eyes to set her insides burning. One kiss and she was pulling at his clothes as he prudently slowed her hands. Some days it was excruciating, waiting for him to touch her, but when he finally did, the waiting made his attention all the more potent.
She’d been ready to sleep with him since that day at the beach, but something held her back, told her to savor every moment and not worry about what might come tomorrow. It was temperance, unlike anything she’d ever known. Perhaps a part of her was terrified sex might spoil their chemistry the way it had with Tyrian. She hoped not.
He’d said he wanted her, fantasized about her, and even called her late at night confessing he’d missed her. But when it came to their time together he always fell back on that unbreakable restraint, reeling in her wanton need until it was needle sharp and barely tolerable. And she always wanted him.
When the spring weather finally broke, Isadora invited Parker to the house to see her gardens. She’d spent years cultivating various blooms and no one ever seemed to appreciate her love for her backyard, but Parker had specifically asked if he could see it.
“I want to see what puts that passionate spark in your eyes,” he’d explained.
Her terrace represented pieces of past lives, moments when she was unsure or scared and had to think through changes that came whether she wanted her world to change or not. Maybe he understood that, saw her plants as a wordless story of all she’d overcome.
“I planted these when Toni was learning to drive. That was a really stressful time. Every evening after we’d practice driving I’d come out here. Gardening’s very cathartic for me.”
Parker laughed. “I only got my license last year. I still get nervous driving in the city.”
She loved when he shared little vulnerable truths like that. “Well, you’re a much better driver than my sister. Lucian had to fini
sh Toni’s lessons. My nerves aren’t quite as resilient as his.”
Whenever she mentioned her brother, he made no comment about their past, which she appreciated, but it also made her a touch anxious.
The more time they spent together, the more frequently she wished Parker and Lucian might someday make amends. But normal had always been a long shot in her love life.
Giving him a tour of the yard was more satisfying than she’d expected. He took great interest in every bed, smiled at each little anecdote, and admired every flower.
“May I?” he asked, bending to sniff a spray of roses climbing up a trellis.
She nodded and he snapped a bloom from the vine, pinching off the thorns.
“For you, m’lady.”
Grinning, she took the stem and pressed the fragrant petals to her nose. “Thank you.”
“Can you see the color?”
“I see an orangy-pink.”
He smirked and she knew she had it wrong, but he didn’t correct her.
“Is it pink?”
He wrapped his fingers around hers. “I think, it’s whatever you see. Just like how no two people ever read the same book, maybe two people never see the same rose.”
“Maybe you’re right, but what do you see?” They turned down a stone path leading to the pergola.
Slanting her a sideways glance, he pulled their entwined fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s yellow.”
She snorted. “I was way off.”
Slowing his steps, he moved to face her, lifting the rose between them. “Actually, there are a lot of colors in it. Here, in the center of the petals, it’s vibrant, like the feathers of a canary. Down here, in the shadows of the bud, it’s darker like an egg yolk. But toward the tips it gets paler, almost white, like the rind between a lemon and its peel. In the veins, these tiny little ventricles tapering to the edges, there’s the slightest hint of pink. So you really weren’t that off.”
“You describe it so prettily,” she said softly, envious of his vision. She stared at the rose, wishing she could see all the various hues, never realizing there were so many variations of the color yellow.
He lifted the flower and brushed the petals along her cheek. “If you hold it here, close to your skin, it gives you a yellow blush. That’s pretty.”
When he looked at her like that, a delicate chill came over her and she wanted him so deeply she could feel it in the tempo of her heart, sense it in the tremble of her bones.
“I wish I saw what you saw.”
His gaze held hers. “I see something so beautiful, I wonder how it’s possible others haven’t noticed.”
Her chest warmed. She decided when she got inside she’d press that rose in the pages of a book and put it with the other amassing keepsakes he’d given her.
Drawing in a deep breath, she smiled and shifted his acute attention back to the beds.
“Show me more.”
“I have lilies here.” She pointed. “I love the stargazer ones. They have the best fragrance.”
“Stargazer lilies,” he repeated, as if taking note of the things she liked.
He kept her hand back in his and gave a squeeze. They strolled in silence for a few minutes until they reached an open portion of land.
“This is where I’d like to put the labyrinth.”
He grinned, admiring the open meadow. “You have a lot of space available.” A rumble of thunder groaned in the distance and they both looked up.
“We should head back.”
He nodded and they turned toward the house. The first drops of rain were hardly a nuisance, but then came another crash of thunder and the skies opened, pelting them with fat beads of water.
Parker gripped her hand as they raced toward shelter. Their feet slipped over the wet stone, her shoes sloshing through fast forming puddles.
“Get under here,” he shouted, pulling her to the pergola where the wisteria vines formed a porous canopy.
She caught her breath and laughed at what a mess they’d become in a matter of seconds. “We’re drenched!”
She shivered, her clothes wet and heavy from only a few minutes in the downpour. Waterspouts rushed with sloshing currents as the spattering raindrops pelted the cobblestone and plants.
The soft splashing formed a quiet roar around them, cocooning them in a steady purr and trickle of rushing water.
“We should wait here until it slows up.” She wrung out the front of her shirt, trying to pull the wet material away from her skin. Brushing a hank of hair from her face she looked up and froze.
His gaze locked with hers, raindrops clinging to his jaw and cheeks. His spiked lashes lowered as he pulled her close.
“Come here.”
Their slicked clothes clung to their bodies, and her skin chilled as her insides warmed. He tucked the damp tangle of hair behind her ear and smiled, his mouth a mere breath from hers.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his. His hand skidded over her damp curves and gripped her backside, pulling her hips closer. She hungrily kissed him, the feel of his hardening body bringing hers to life.
“More,” she whispered, her smile curving against his.
His touch crawled greedily over her sopping shirt, pulling and tugging. The fabric glued to her body.
Her back leaned into a thick wooden beam and he lifted her off the ground, wrapping her legs around his hips.
“Jesus, Isadora.”
Yanking her shirt above her wet breasts, his mouth closed over her nipple. Her head fell back, her lower body desperately pressing into his. The sharp nudge of his arousal digging into her sex caused them both to moan.
“Fuck,” he ripped his mouth from her breast and pressed her more into the beam. “Why do you feel so incredible?”
She wanted him inside of her, filling her, thrusting so hard she’d feel him there for days. “I want you,” she demanded, reaching for his belt buckle.
“We should go inside.”
His belt loosened and he frantically worked the button of her jeans. Yes! Finally!
It was perfect and spontaneous and finally going to happen. Hot flesh met her fingertips and—
“Isadora?”
They froze.
Parker’s warm breath beat against her neck, their bodies entwined in a knot of lust and need. “Is that your brother’s voice?”
“No, no, no, no, no,” she whined, dropping her face into his shoulder. But yes, it was Lucian. “Damn it.”
“Can he see us?”
She considered the distance to the house and the angle they were facing. “No.” But, damn it! She wasn’t in the mood for company. She was in the mood for Parker sex and a world of other things that should not include her brother. “He’ll see my car and know I’m home.”
“Why is he here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shit.” He lowered her feet to the ground and buckled his pants. “You should go see what he wants. The rain’s slowing down.”
Disgruntled, she adjusted her clothes, internally grumbling that her brother rarely visited and now was not the time for him to change his habits.
“What will you do?”
“I don’t think now’s the time for us to come face to face. I know you want that meeting to go smoothly, and it will, when the time’s right. I’ll wait here for a few minutes. Try to get him to leave.”
She nodded but, again, hoped this dislike between him and her brother would eventually fade. “Okay. He’s probably just dropping something off. He usually doesn’t stay long.”
She turned to go to the house and he snatched her wrist, spinning her back to him and kissing her passionately. When he pulled away she was in a dizzy haze.
“Don’t take too long.”
She blinked, her body not wanting to leave. “’Kay.”
She navigated the wet garden and entered the house through the kitchen, her soggy shoes making a mess on the til
e floor.
Yanking her sneakers and socks off with a slurping sound, she dropped them by the door and wrung out her hair.
“Where the hell were you?” Lucian asked, walking into the kitchen.
“I was in the garden when it started to rain.”
“You’re soaked.”
“I’m aware.”
“Well, dry off. I have something for you.”
“I need a minute.”
She slipped into the laundry room and squeezed out of the clothes suctioned to her body. Shivering, she grabbed the first thing she found, an old sundress of Toni’s that showed more skin than Isadora preferred.
She returned to the kitchen to find Lucian staring out the window. “You said you had something for me.” It was probably just some paperwork he needed her to sign.
“Someone’s in the garden.”
“I know.”
He faced her and scowled. “Who?”
She debated for only half a second. “Parker.”
His demeanor darkened. “Why is he at our house?”
“You own half of Folsom, Lucian, but I own this property, so I’m afraid you don’t get a say in who I invite over.”
They faced off for a silent second, her brother clearly not liking the irrefutable truth in her words, but she silently dared him to challenge her.
He released the curtain. “Let him wait in the rain like a coward.”
She scoffed. “He’s not afraid of you.”
“He should be.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why? You wouldn’t do anything to him.”
“Wanna bet? I already kicked his ass once.”
“I like him, Lucian, and I know you wouldn’t cross that line. For God’s sake, let it go.”
His lips pressed tight. “You shouldn’t trust him, Isa.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He arched a dark brow. “Do you?”
She didn’t have great judgment with men, but that had nothing to do with Parker’s character and everything to do with her. Parker had never given her a reason to doubt his honesty. His past with Lucian was in the past.
“Why are you here?”
Putting aside his open dislike for the company she kept, he reached into the breast pocket of his suit. “To show you this.” He dropped a small black and white photo onto the counter.