Gilded Lily Read online

I bumped him with my shoulder before we backed out. Ivy and Tess looked up from their arrangements with strange expressions on their faces. I felt bald and exposed under their gazes, and so, I offered Tess my absolute best smile and strode toward them.

  “Tess, the garland is out of this world.”

  She flushed prettily, her brown eyes soft. “Thank you.”

  “I mean it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “She’s got a knack for that,” Kash said, offering her a fond smile.

  “It’s a certain kind of magic she possesses,” Ivy added. “Sometimes she walks into the greenhouse and stands there like a savant, staring at the flowers, calculating her creation. We sell out of market bouquets every day, and I swear she’s never quite done the same thing twice.”

  “Cut it out,” Tess said on a flustered laugh, reaching into a bucket of mauve hydrangeas.

  “It’s okay. I don’t take compliments well either,” I admitted.

  “It’s true,” my sister added. “Last time I complimented her hair, she went on for ten minutes about how it was all thanks to her hair products and did her best to convert me to using them. She forgets I work as a florist and not a hot-shot wedding planner and can’t afford Sephora anything.”

  “Assistant coordinator,” I corrected. “And I told you, you could use mine.”

  “And get addicted to something I can’t afford? I have enough vices, thank you very much.”

  “Are you about ready?” I asked, looking over her arrangement to see if I could determine that answer myself.

  “Just about. You and Kash get everything approved?” she asked.

  “We did,” I said with a glance in his direction, catching him watching me.

  He didn’t look away, boldly locking eyes. They were a deeper, darker shade than the other Bennets, shot with a burst of blue so light, it shone silver around his pupil like an eclipse.

  “Can we get that in writing?” Ivy joked.

  “That’s what I said.” Kash’s lips were tilted, wide and inviting.

  God, what was it about that sideways smile? I’d always found smirks to be lewd and a little salacious, but he made the expression feel intimate, like a secret we shared. Except I didn’t know what the secret was.

  That smile promised to tell me everything and then some.

  A wave of heat brushed my skin at the notion.

  Mercifully, Ivy stood. Well, it was more of a cautious slide off the stool, then a waddle to her bag.

  “See you guys tomorrow,” she said in parting.

  “Don’t have that baby yet,” Tess warned.

  A snort from Ivy. “If she decides to show up, I’m not arguing.” At Tess’s frown, she added, “Don’t worry, you’ll all survive without me. In fact, I’m betting you’ll get more work done without me here to distract you.”

  “Fat chance,” Tess answered.

  Ivy pressed a hand to her belly. “Watch it with the fat talk, Tess Monroe.”

  With a laugh, Tess and Ivy embraced, and I watched with a smile and a sigh, thankful Ivy had her little family here. Another stroke of envy brushed my heart—I had no friends like this, no family away from family. Our parents had moved to Phoenix when they retired but came when they could. New York was my home, but while Ivy had always had the Bennets and the shop and now Dean, I only had her. I’d had no real time for friends, not with the demands of my job, and while I’d adopted Brock’s friends—a collection of doctors, lawyers, and otherwise accomplished professionals—they were proximity friends, nothing more. They weren’t the people you texted in the middle of the night or watched old movies with in your pajamas. They were the sort who showed up to dinner and performed, hiding their true nature with predatory skill.

  Maybe that was where I’d sharpened my own mask. Maybe it was just the nature of Brock’s circle or the circle of the wealthy. But I longed for something genuine, longed for it in a way I never had before. Not until I’d lost the man I thought I wanted, not realizing how wrong I’d been about what was and wasn’t good for me.

  I caught a glimpse of it then, a whole other life, like the fluttering of a curtain behind which another world existed. One where my smiles were effortless, where there was no pretense. Only the simple honesty of connection.

  It was alien, that world.

  It was a dream, that world.

  And then the curtain stilled, shutting off the vision, leaving me only with myself and the ghostly glimmer of what I’d seen.

  Ivy hooked her arm in mine. “I’m gonna use so much garlic salt, no one will come within five feet of me for a week.”

  With a laugh, I leaned into her, waving at Tess, then Kash, all dark hair and uncomplicated smiles. And I smiled back, that glimmer flickering again like a shard of glass in the sun.

  Ivy tugged me toward the front, chattering about pizza with enough gusto that by the time we reached the door to the shop, my stomach growled like a wild animal. I pressed a hand to it, chuckling.

  “God, don’t you eat?” she said, pulling her coat as tight as she could around her belly. The seams didn’t come close to touching.

  “Of course I eat.”

  “It’s just that you’re so skinny.”

  “You just say that because you’re so not skinny.”

  “Hey!” She pinched my arm, eliciting a yelp. “That’s two fat jokes in five minutes. Not cool.”

  “Well, you skinny shamed me, so we’re even.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “By the way, I forgot to thank you for telling Kash all my business. What the hell, Ivy?”

  She flushed, lips set. “Well, I was trying to explain to Tess, and she kept defending Brock for not giving you orgasms. I needed a tiebreaker, and Kash always gives the best advice.”

  I skidded to a halt, pulling her backward with an oof. “You told him about the orgasms?”

  “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what he said?”

  “You think Kash talked to me about orgasms in the greenhouse? Jesus, Ivy! He told me he was sorry about Brock!”

  “Oh. Well … I mean, I’m not sorry.”

  My mouth popped open, brows stitched together. “You bitch.”

  “What? I’m not,” she said smartly, folding her arms. “He agreed that zero missed orgasms was the gold standard for men who aren’t assholes.”

  I groaned, pressing my hands to my face for one brief moment of privacy. “I cannot believe you.”

  “Really?” she challenged.

  Another groan. My hands dropped to my sides, and I straightened up, not taking her traitor arm again. She could waddle on her own.

  “Oh, come on, Lila.”

  I kept walking, knowing she couldn’t keep up.

  “Wait up. I’m sorry, okay?”

  At that, I stopped, turning in wait for the rest, one brow cocked.

  “I’m just … I’m so fucking mad at Brock. It’s no secret I’ve always hated him—”

  I snorted a laugh at the understatement.

  “But Lila, what he did is unforgivable and on so many levels. I’m just mad. And it made me mad that Tess didn’t automatically agree with me. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sorry.”

  I sighed, softening at her expression, which was mushy and looked like she might cry. “It’s all right. But if you could maybe refrain from discussing my orgasms with Kash Bennet, that would be great.”

  She sniffled, smiling. “Deal.”

  Linking arms again, we started for the pizza window. I could already smell the garlic, and my tastebuds exploded in anticipation.

  “Have you thought about a rebound?” she asked carefully.

  “I haven’t even thought about where I’m going to live, never mind dating.”

  “Nobody said date,” she defended. “But maybe dick is more important right now than a permanent address.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “What? You know I’m not wrong. It doesn’t have to be serious or anything, just a romp. A frolic. A cavorting rollick with an u
ncomplicated penis.”

  “Ivy,” I said on a laugh. “Stop it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve always underestimated the power of a good, frisky roll in the hay. I mean, we even have literal hay in storage at the greenhouse.”

  I gave her a look.

  “I’m just saying,” she insisted innocently, “that you have options.”

  The look didn’t quit.

  “And that getting some hot beef could solve a lot of your problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like … you could relax. Blow off steam. Loosen up. Live a little. You might even laugh. Like, unprompted. It could be a medical miracle: a solid injection of vitamin D, and you’re a brand new woman. Take it from a retired floozy—what you need, my dear sister, is a rebound.”

  Unbidden, the vision of Kash leaning on his shovel with that smirk on his face filled my thoughts. For a moment, I fantasized about him taking off his shirt, imagining the naked truth of his musculature. Imagined him licking those wide lips of his, imagined the scent of him, the warmth of him, the strength of his arms, the breadth of his hands. His lips would be soft and demanding all at once, hot and slick and—

  “Oh, they have supreme today!” Ivy cheered, yanking me out of my reverie and into the line. “God, it must be my lucky day. Come on, Lila. You’re gonna get the spicy sausage, aren’t you?” She waggled her brows, prompting a too-loud laugh from me and a couple of glances for disturbing the pizza peace.

  “I’ll take all the sausage, please.”

  11

  At Your Service

  LILA

  The day was eternal.

  Meetings stacked on meetings, including a rush to sit with the Femmes through band auditions, which all five of them had opposing opinions on, resulting in zero choices made. To top it off, fall was in full effect—it had rained all day, resulting in filthy shoes and my ankles dotted with muck despite my constant attention. I’d donned my knee-length peacoat, the deep emerald hiding proof of dirt and protecting the white pencil skirt and tailored shirt I’d decided on today, a risky choice given the weather circumstance.

  Four days had passed since I’d seen Kash, my longest stretch away from the shop in weeks. I wondered immediately why I’d kept count. Maybe it was because I was on my way to Longbourne, though I was set to meet Tess—Kash probably wouldn’t even be there. I wouldn’t admit under duress that I hoped he was, but I did hope. It was stupid and probably irresponsible, but I wanted to see him.

  Those days without seeing him had crawled by at the speed of a legless zombie.

  I sighed, using a baby wipe from my bag to clean off my shoes and ankles again. The cab rumbled along, radio tinny and distant through the little plexiglass window, rain pinging the roof, brushed from the windshield in rhythmic sweeps. The sound lulled me, exhaustion blooming in my chest, creeping down my arms to draw me into sleep.

  My fatigue was total, existing well beyond the physical. It necessitated a lot of energy to pretend like I was fine, like my life hadn’t been turned inside out like a lonely, errant sock. I longed to have a place where I could be alone just as much as the thought of being alone terrified me. Without the need to hold myself together for the sake of those around me, I worried I’d slip into a state I couldn’t control.

  The taxi swung toward the curb outside Longbourne, and as I paid, I weighed my options on how to get from the cab to the shop efficiently. My umbrella seemed a silly choice just for the few feet to the door, but my hair would appreciate it, since I’d made a secondary poor choice to leave it down today. Then again, I’d be heading straight for a hot shower from here, and I’d only be inside for a few minutes, just long enough to get Tess to sign the liability forms for a venue and to approve a scope of work agreement we’d finally completed.

  Umbrellaless it was.

  I gathered my bag and umbrella, taking a breath to brace myself before opening the door and stepping out. As quickly as I could, I got both feet on the curb, turning to shut the door before bolting toward the shop. I was nearly in the inset threshold when a sheet of water overran the gutter and fell like a curtain on me.

  I froze in shock, furious and freezing and soaked with filthy rainwater, hair dripping and coat a sponge. One breath, slow and controlled, and I found my wits, stepping into the nook to open the door to the shop, marked with a Closed sign. The sound of rain was muffled when I closed the door, the bell ting-a-linging cheerily, mocking me. Rain patted the tiled floor as I stood in the dark shop in icy indignation.

  I headed to the back, frozen to the bone, peering back into the workspace for Tess. My only thought beyond my state of undoing was how desperate I was to put this day to bed and move on. Surely, I’d feel better after a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Surely, tomorrow would be better.

  “Hello?” I called, twisting my cold hair into a rope, wringing it out as I walked toward the back.

  “Back here,” a deep baritone voice that was definitely not Tess’s called.

  I faltered but kept trucking to the back, hoping I could find something to dry my hands off with so I could extract the paperwork from my leather attaché without ruining it. Swiftly and as a diversion, I counted the minutes until I could leave, teeth chattering while I tallied it up. Twelve minutes should do the trick with time to spare.

  I didn’t know what I expected when I rounded the corner into the workspace. Luke maybe. Jett perhaps. But not Kash Bennet, sitting at a worktable, stuffing buds into plastic water tubes. They were so small, so delicate and feminine in his massive hands, and he handled them with gentle care and attention, as if they were precious. Considering he’d grown them from seeds, I supposed they were precious to him in a way they weren’t to anyone else.

  Kash glanced up with a crooked smile that immediately faded upon seeing the state I was in. His brows snapped together, and he was on his feet in a flash of motion.

  “Lila? What happened?” He moved for a rack stacked with supplies, whipping a white towel and a flannel blanket off a nearby shelf before striding toward me.

  “This is just the day I’m having,” I said lightly, hands up in display, smart smile on my lips so I didn’t cry.

  He handed me the towel, tossed the flannel on the table, and stepped behind me. “Here, let’s get you out of this.” First, he took my bag, which he placed on the table as I dried my hair. Then, his hands closed over my lapels and slid them over the curve of my shoulders.

  I stilled but for the tremors of cold, tossing the towel onto the table. Down my arms the coat slid. Instantly, I felt the heat of him behind me and resisted the urge to lean back into him, desperately craving that warmth from the depths of my icy bones. When he stepped away, cold overtook me, my clothes damp and cool to the touch as I curled my shoulders and folded my arms, cupping them to retain as much warmth as possible.

  Teeth clicking, I dropped onto a stool and tried to regain composure. I forced myself to sit up straight, dropping my hands to my lap. My eyes found Kash hanging my coat, spreading it over two hooks and shaking it open as best he could so it could dry. When he turned, he looked even more concerned.

  “Here,” he said, reaching for the flannel. “You’re freezing.”

  He unfurled it as he walked toward me and wrapped the blanket around me.

  “Th-thank you,” I said once the flannel was in my grip.

  As his hands retreated, they lingered on my shoulders, testing the curve with his palm, then the span of my upper arms before falling away.

  “I’m sorry your day was shitty.”

  “That’s just status quo these days.” I clutched the flannel, grateful for it.

  “You need a win.”

  I huffed a laugh. “I need a win so bad, Kash.”

  “You drink tea?” he asked, his eyes dark as he looked me over.

  I must have looked like I’d been drowned, my hair lank and waving in tendrils, my blouse wet—my white blouse. I gathered the blanket tighter to cover my breasts. “Tea would be w-w
onderful,” I said.

  But he didn’t seem to be paying much mind to my appearance. Dutifully, he crossed the room to an electric teapot and flipped the button to start it before rummaging through a box of teabags.

  “Chamomile? Green jasmine? Orange rooibos?”

  “Jasmine, please.” I glanced at the table to the flowers he’d been putting into the flutes. “Are these for the wedding this weekend?”

  “For the bouquet, yes.”

  “Where’s Tess? I need her to sign some paperwork f-for me,” I said, reaching for my bag, my twelve-minute plan gone but not forgotten.

  “She had to get out of here, asked me to stay to meet you.”

  I frowned at my hands as I pulled the folio of papers out and a pen, setting them in front of Kash’s stool. We were alone, which made me uncomfortable. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I could see the line and exactly when and how I might cross it, especially with him looking like he cared so much.

  It’d been a long time since a man cared so much. Brock certainly hadn’t, simply because he was too self-absorbed. Perhaps he’d bought the facade I’d crafted, the one that broadcasted that I didn’t need taking care of.

  But Kash saw through it, saw through to me. And the way that made me feel was dangerous.

  The teapot rumbled as the water heated up, mug and teabag prepped and waiting. Kash, I realized, was watching me. Our gazes met for only a fraction of a second before he moved across the room again, back to that shelf of supplies.

  Steaming mug in hand, he headed over with that smile on his face.

  When he handed it to me, I took it, leaning over it like it was a flame. “Thank you so much. Really.”

  “It’s no trouble. Come on, let’s get you warm.”

  Immediately, I imagined him stripping me down and me stripping him down and our naked limbs tangled together. But he cupped my elbow, jerking his chin toward the greenhouse.

  I took his lead and slid off the stool, silently following him through the swinging doors.

  Warmth hit me like summertime, humid and thick and tropical. The greenhouse was touched by moonlight, dimmed by the clouds and their deluge, but it was still there, a sweet glow over rows and rows of flowers and greenery and life.