by Emma James
I hear a soft laugh from behind me but can’t seem to care who made it.
I say the first thing that comes into my mouth. “Can I help you, Dr. Castille?”
“Really, Sunflower, we haven’t even been on a date yet, and you want to get up close and personal with my ass, but I’m up for it if you are, although time is against us, so you better let the good doctor get the job done.” My eyes slide up to Torque’s, and he winks at me.
“What? Nooo. I didn’t mean I would touch your ass. I meant...” Well, I’m not sure, actually. It just seemed like the right thing to say at the time.
I snap out of my trance and turn to Mr. Scott, who is fully clothed. “Sorry, Mr. Scott, you were saying something to me before?” I should be apologizing and asking after his medical prognosis from Dr. Castille, but I feel I need to get out of this room to be able to concentrate.
“Are you all right, love? And call me Boxer, Flora.”
“Me?” My attention is now fully resting on Boxer. “I’m perfectly fine.” I try to direct the focus away from me. “Are you all right? I heard your umm”—I point to my forehead—”head split like a tomato.” I bring my hand up to my mouth in horror. I could have handled that better. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was, Bowie—”
“Sunflower, Boxer’s a big boy.” My eyes glide over to the male that has just cut me off mid apology. Bad move. I can’t concentrate when I’m looking at him.
My body is carrying on like I’m a horny female, and that is the last thing I am. I think?
“Stop distracting me,” I mutter to Torque, averting my eyes anywhere but at Torque and his round, rock-hard buns. “I’m here to apologize to Boxer and Whisper, and now it looks like I need to add you to the list, too. You told me you were all right. You lied,” I accuse him of the crime to my emotions.
“I just omitted my ass was on fire the whole time we were talking. I didn’t elaborate as I knew you already felt bad for what had happened. Call it trying to lessen the weight you are determined to carry around on those pretty shoulders of yours.”
His words don’t make me feel any better when Torque hisses at whatever Dr. Castille is doing to his shredded skin.
“It’s like a makeshift triage in here,” I exaggerate.
Boxer chuckles and the doctor mumbles something under her breath.
“Don’t mind, Evelyn; she’s seen it all many times before. I have an injury-prone job. Today is a good day for her.” Boxer doesn’t sound at all bothered by his circumstance.
My head swings around to the doctor, and to my surprise, she winks at me and smiles.
I don’t know what to do with that.
Looking at the wall over Boxer’s shoulder, I announce to the whole room, “I really am sorry for everything Bowie has caused. I hope you all can accept my deepest apologies. I am truly sorry for the pain he is causing you all. I know words can’t fix this—”
“Sunflower—”
“I um...” Gosh, what can I do? I can’t do anything here. I must find Whisper. I need to get away from this man who has me so muddled in my brain. “Um... I had better go find Whisper and talk to her.” God, I hope she will see me—
“Flora?” Torque’s voice cuts into my babbling mind.
“Um... yeah?” Crap! Now the man has turned side-on, and I have a view of his trunks side on. Keep your eyes above his...
“Sunflower?”
Do not look down.
“Sweetheart?”
Oh, my. Shit! I told you not to look down!
“Wha...” I shake my head to rid myself of my bumbling behavior. “What?” My focus is again back on Torque’s face and only his face.
Everything above the neck.
I think the man is laughing at me. “Has something got you in a bother?” he asks innocently.
My face is roasting hot.
Do. Not. Look. Down!
And there I go again.
I try to ignore the large bulge in his trunks as best I can, which is not going very well for me and try to ignore his innuendo.
I mean, what’s he got down there? Twin bananas? That can’t be normal. Surely?
“Oh...well... I’m glad you find my discomfort over—” I wave a hand about—”Bowie’s antics amusing,” I mutter, not giving him the satisfaction of addressing the big elephant tusk in the room.
Oh, my gosh. I so did not want to go there.
“Sweetheart!”
“What?” I snap back at Torque out of sheer embarrassment.
“Whisper’s right behind you.”
Pluck-a-duck!
Presley comes dashing into my room to announce Bowie has arrived, and Flora is looking for me.
I quickly make my way down the stairs and hurry to the kitchen as fast as carrying the train of my wedding dress over my arm takes me.
I’m prepared to whisk Flora away for a quick private girl talk to make sure she’s doing okay (because biker men can be intimidating) and also to ease any worries she has over Bowie’s unfortunate skateboarding antics.
I walk through the door of my kitchen unannounced, not expecting to see what is going on before me. My eyes go all anime on me as I stand in place, feeling a great whopping grin break out of me. I can only look on, helpless to walk away (well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it) because my excitement and amusement for these two people keeps me rooted to the spot.
Wow! Torque works fast!
My openly reserved neighbor is a new woman. She’s positively glowing with attraction toward mostly-naked-Torque who isn’t making any attempt to cover up.
There’s something physically different about Torque. I can now see his body has changed. He’s broader in the shoulders. He looks like a warrior with his hair all Thor-like. He appears taller, his thighs stronger—his butt—well, it’s filled out in a good way. I’m certainly not attracted to him, but he’s undoubtedly a very handsome man.
I urge my heels to unglue themselves from the floor so I can move to get a better angle of the two of them without getting caught by Flora, but I don’t think she will notice me anyway. She’s what I would call “mesmerized.”
Torque’s somehow managed to do what no man—other than Bowie’s father—has been allowed to do; he’s gotten under her skin in the most delightful way.
Come to think about it; Torque’s kinda glowing. Torque’s the president of a biker club. He doesn’t do ‘glowing.’ He’s a man who carries a gruff personality around with him. He has earned his stripes among his fellow biker brothers for being a fair, but tough man.
The man does not banter with a woman.
The man now banters with Flora.
The man does not use nicknames for females.
The man now uses a nickname for Flora.
To hear Torque calling her ‘Sunflower’ as though he’s known her a lot longer than half an hour... well, this just got a whole lot more interesting.
He turns around, and I feel powerless to stop my eyes wandering down to the front of his trunks.
Good. Lawd!
Eyes up!
I so did not mean to do that. But what female could stand here and not look? Impossible. It’s a natural female response.
I catch the smirk on Torque’s face as he gives me a glance in my direction.
I mentally roll my eyes and return my attention to my neighbor, who is currently hypnotized by Torque’s barely clothed body. He’s pretty much, showing everybody else in this room what he is packing inside those tight trunks.
Flora’s focus on the club president proves Torque has hidden superpowers. He’s manipulating her mind. She’s under the spell of the confident man’s mostly naked physique and has no idea she’s got an audience bearing witness.
I catch Evelyn smiling as she tries to keep working on her patient’s body while Boxer looks like he would enjoy a bowl of popcorn and putting his feet up to watch the show.
Torque is so masculine and proud, and Flora is like his blonde female counterp
art. An impressive, beautiful, strong woman, who rides a bike, owns a business, and can look after herself—no man required.
Aannd... there goes Torque calling her ‘Sunflower’ again.
Could it be so? Has Torque already claimed the neighbor?
Oh, my! This is much more serious than I first thought.
From the way Flora’s unashamedly stroking his ego with her open appreciation for all things Torque—she’s his too. She just might not realize it yet, because this is so not like Flora to behave in this manner.
Oh, boy-oh-boy.
I wasn’t into matchmaking, but hell, the possibility of these two becoming a couple is something that even I can see. The writing is all over my kitchen walls. I see Torque and Flora sitting in a tree. K. I. S. S. I. N. G. Yes, I am that girlie about it.
This is HUGE!
Exciting!
Torque may have found his true love. I know insta-luv is what some fictional romance stories get built on, but I think we may have insta-lust at least, which the girls and I can work with.
The more I look between the two of them, the more I see a perfect matching of blond beauties, and it all kind of makes sense.
They make sense.
Who even needs to be a matchmaker?
It’s already done.
My smile dials up to what the men would call shit-eating grin. And I’ve got a front-row seat to watch the big man fall.
“Love... it looks like you want to share my imaginary bowl of popcorn. You look like a teenager excited for her friend’s up and coming wedding, instead of your own.” Boxer is now standing beside me. “I think Flora has only eyes for Torque,” he stage whispers dramatically to me.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” I return the stage whisper. Not caring, I’m probably getting a lot ahead of myself.
“From what I know of the two of them... I think it’s a sound bet.” Boxer winks. I wouldn’t waste my money betting against them. “You know, love, I like seeing you like this,” Boxer murmurs in my ear. I look sideways at him, my confusion apparent on my face. “You’re excited for your friend. It’s what girlfriends do. You’ve come a long way in nine years. The girl you were before you met Edge has moved on and become a woman who has an amazing group of loyal friends. Watching you now warms my heart. But remember, it’s your wedding day, we are very late, and matchmaking will need to get put on hold. Now I know it’s tempting, but you and the girls are going to have to leave these two grown-ups alone, which equals: no meddling.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten the love of my life is waiting for me, but Evelyn is still busy with Torque, and I’m not going to meddle.” I smile.
“Oh, yes, you are.”
Well, maybe only a teensy bit.
“She’s behind me, isn’t she?” I say to nobody in particular.
It’s starting to get very hot in here all of a sudden.
Oh, my gosh. I’m about to face Whisper.
I start fanning myself with my hand. I can’t believe my emotions are in such turmoil.
I take a steadying breath mentally pulling up my big granny pants. It’s now or never.
I slowly turn, my heart pounding a dead-man-walking beat in my ears, while my body involuntarily shivers. One of the worst things a person can do to a bride is mess with their wedding day before it has even begun. That is a big no-no.
I clench my hands to hold the shakes at bay as I inhale deeply through my nose and then exhale through my pursed lips, letting as much tension as I can escape my body.
Who am I kidding? I was terrified of disappointing Whisper.
Usually, I’m a strong, fearless single mother who’s on a daily mission to live life and bring happiness to my son, but Torque’s everything has me unbalanced. My carefully held in check emotions are driven off their axis by this man, sending everything else off-balance. I’m a remarkably balanced-in-control-nothing-fazes-me person—except for now—and that doesn’t sit well with me.
A heatwave sweeps over my body at the same time as my stomach grows more nauseous by the second. I feel positively green. There is a cauldron of emotions swirling about pulling me in all sorts of directions.
My anxiety levels are on the rise.
I start to feel overwhelmed, teetering, and swaying on my heels.
I want to escape the kitchen, so nobody sees me like this. I’ve not had a panic attack since I found out Toran had died.
I don’t want Torque to see me like this.
I need it to stop!
It’s not who I am.
Torque announces my presence, and from the look on Flora’s face, I know she needs reassurance I am okay, immediately.
My amused thoughts take a backseat as my heart reaches out to Flora. “Flora, honey, I’m not mad at you or Bowie. I’m totally fine,” I call out to her, my palms facing her like I’m trying to soothe a frightened animal.
She’s swaying while her thick lashes flutter like a trapped butterfly trying to escape.
I now know she’s far more worried about my reaction than I am giving credit. She’s genuinely uncomfortable and upset the three of us got hurt, and she’s probably anxious about Edge’s response to Bowie when he finds out, and that’s nothing she needs to fear.
I see Torque’s face change from amused to flat-out worried as he spins away from Evelyn at the same time Boxer moves toward Flora and I cry out, “Flora, I’m okay, everybody is okay. I’m not mad at you or Bowie.”
She grabs at the air, but Torque’s already encasing her body, her back plastered to his chest, steadying her.
“Sunflower, I already told you Whisper and Boxer would be all right, and nobody was gonna be mad with you,” he murmurs against her ear. “Look at Whisper,” he commands Flora. “Her dress is still beautiful”—I give a little twirl—”she’s all in one piece, just her hands and elbow are grazed up.”
I reveal my bandaged hands and my elbow, which is now showing signs of bruising outside the discreet bandage.
I give Flora what probably comes across as a goofy smile.
Flora slumps back against Torque, and I don’t even think she realizes she’s handing all her trust over to him. He’s holding her up with one arm protectively wrapped across her small waist; the other pressed against her from underneath her breasts—intimately.
Oh, boy! The big man is gone!
I am so haaaapyyy!
“I got you, Sunflower. Take deep, slow breaths until you feel steady on your feet. I won’t let you fall.” His lips are lightly brushing her cheek as he brings her back down.
Oh, boy. Torque’s got it bad.
If my hands weren’t sore I would be clapping them like a seal.
Where’s Birdie and her Polaroid camera when I need it.
And that’s not a question.
Torque’s soothing voice brings me back down before the attack becomes full-blown. He manages to extinguish my anxiety flames.
I keep deep breathing until I’m entirely under control again.
And then—reality crashes into me.
Oh. My. Gosh.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m leaning on a man and letting him hold me.
I repeat: What the hell is wrong with me?
And why do I like it so much?
What is that smell?
My head is itching to turn so that I can nuzzle the man’s neck.
Do. Not. Sniff. Him.
But he smells so good.
Yes, he does.
Focus on Whisper. Do not inhale the man.
Whisper does look better than my mind has been playing out for me.
“Earth to Flora. Come in, Flora.” What? Why is Whisper talking to me like that? “Flora, honey, please blink if you can hear me because you’re two seconds away from Torque, scooping you up into his arms.”
“Pardon?” Whisper’s comment confuses me.
“There she is,” I hear Torque murmur.
“Flora, hon, you blanked out for a bit. I’ve been telling you I’m perfe
ctly fine, and you went from breathing difficulties to staring right through me.” Whisper sounds genuinely not mad at me, which is a great relief.
“Oh, sorry about that; I’m not sure what came over me,” I say, blatantly lying.
I know what’s come over me—Torque’s arm underneath my boobs. The large, capable hand is cupping the underside of my left breast while his thumb moves back and forth slowly, causing my nipples to harden while his bare chest heats my back. That is what has come over me.
His masculine scent is doing things to me; I’m not yet prepared to acknowledge other than having an urge to bury my nose in his neck. I’m also boldly lying in front of everybody in this kitchen. I’m not about to admit all of the above and more out loud.
With this Thor-like man touching me like this, it feels like I’ve woken up from being starved of grown-up male affection—male anything!
Bob certainly doesn’t have a neck I can sniff.
Bob can’t hold me up and fondle my left breast.
Bob has got a lot to answer for!
I keep my eyes on Whisper, who is now looking over my head. “What have you done to Flora, Torque? I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Indeed. What has he done to me?
“Sunflower, how are you doing?” There’s concern mixed with tension in Torque’s question.
I take a quick mental inventory: I’m no longer feeling panicked, but my senses are still addled, and my nipples feel like they will poke holes in my cocktail dress if I don’t get away from Torque’s touch.
Flora, you need to step away from the man.
But he feels so good.
That may be so, but you need to step away and get a grip on yourself.
And we need to stop talking to ourselves!
I tip my head back a little as I straighten up, and before I can stop myself from doing what I clearly warned myself not to do—I inhale slowly through my nose. Subtle. Much.
Oooh... sweet baby Jesus.
Why does the man smell so good?
Soft laughter rumbles against my earlobe.