Loving a Wildflower

by Amanda Torrey

  He’d tell her if he really didn’t want to. Wouldn’t he?

  They worked in companionable silence, rolling and packing snow into large balls. She laughed as she tried to lift the second one onto the first and wound up squishing it all over her thighs.

  “Maybe you should leave the heavy lifting to me.” He sounded annoyed, but as she studied his face, he winked.

  Good goddess, that wink did crazy things to her insides!

  She grabbed a chunk of the snow she had dropped, fashioned it into a proper snowball, and lobbed it at him.

  He pretended to stumble back as he clutched his chest where the snowball had found its mark.

  He played.

  Life could not get any better.

  Ethan reached down and picked up his own chunk of snow, and Simplicity squealed and scrambled to gather more to create her own ammunition. When she stood back up, she was surrounded by not just Freedom, but also her other sister, Paisley, who lived in Boston.

  “Paisley!” Simplicity dropped her snow and threw herself into her sister’s arms. “What are you doing here?”

  Paisley hugged Simplicity for a moment before removing herself from Simplicity’s tight grasp and brushing snow off the front of her fancy wool coat.

  “Reed let me know you had this big, important fundraiser going on, since you didn’t bother to send the invitation.”

  “I didn’t think you’d have time to come!” Simplicity shrieked. She had stopped inviting her sisters to things years ago—they were always far too busy with their big, important jobs.

  Paisley shrugged and fiddled with the cuff of her coat. “I happened to have the weekend off.”

  “I can’t believe you came up here for this. You’re the best.”

  “She’s the best?” Freedom interjected. “I gave you the venue. Not to mention the start up money. And since when do you take weekends off, Pais?”

  “Oh, you know you’re both the best to me.” Simplicity noticed the slightest bit of self-doubt in Paisley before she shrugged and started pulling at her gloves. She’d hash that out later, but for now, she turned back toward Ethan. “And now you get to meet—”

  Simplicity felt the color drain from her face as Jackson approached, all cocky swagger and inappropriate smile. She had always thought of him as more of a bumbling, insecure sort of nerdy guy, but clearly possessiveness and jealousy gave him the outward appearance of self-confidence.

  She knew the truth. He was still bumbling and insecure on the inside. And more of a jerk than she had imagined.

  Her nails threatened to cut through her mittens as she tightened her fists. She tried to smile, but the cold air suddenly grew colder as her sisters had a visual showdown with Ethan, who turned back into the hard statue of a soulless man before her very eyes.

  She couldn’t stop watching the scene unfold, though she desperately wanted to step in with her imaginary movie director hat on and yell, “Cut!”

  Jackson aligned his body with Ethan’s, slapping Ethan on the back as if they were old friends, while looking Simplicity up and down. She didn’t have to look directly at her sisters to know they were sizing up Ethan, and that he’d never come out with a winning score.

  Simplicity wanted to say something. To do something. To stop this train wreck and push Ethan off the tracks before he got squished.

  She took a step toward Ethan, stopping when the shrill voice of one of the teen cheerleaders pierced through the scene.

  “Simplicity, we need you! There’s a problem with the hot chocolate machine. It’s shooting hot stuff everywhere!”

  “Oh no.” She had managed to barter everything but her soul to rent that thing, and she couldn’t afford to replace or repair the expensive machine if something happened to it. In her attempt to save money, she had turned down the optional insurance. “Is everyone okay? No one was scalded, were they?”

  “No.” The teen shook her head vehemently. “But there’s a huge mess and a line of customers.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Freedom offered, taking charge as usual and heading in the direction of the hut.

  Simplicity placed her hand on her sister’s arm, stilling her.

  “No. I’ve got this.”

  Freedom stopped, and Simplicity rushed ahead, leaving the tense scene behind. Remembering Ethan, she turned back to ask him to come with her, but her throat clogged as the snowball he had been holding slowly slipped from his hand, landing in a sad thunk on the cold ground.

  Chapter Nine

  Ethan was certain his teeth would break from clenching them so hard. The last time he had felt this level of pain and anxiety was when he was tied up in a dark cave in the Middle East.

  Part of him wished he had a blindfold on this time, too, so he wouldn’t have to see the disapproval and pity of the people around him.

  The people who meant the most to Simplicity.

  He had known this thing with Simplicity wouldn’t last long. Whatever romantic ideals she had about taming the beast would be knocked out of her dream-filled head when the truth of what he was hit her.

  He couldn’t change.

  They had made a monster of him, and no matter how much Simplicity wanted him to step up and be a decent human being, those days were far behind him.

  The sisters continued their stare-down assessment of him for a few more heartbeats before the one with the sharply cut cheek bones—Freedom, or Reed, as they had called her—excused herself to follow Simplicity. Paisley barely concealed her judgmental glare as she perused him one more time before following her sister. Not a word was spoken.

  “Made quite an impression on the ladies, huh, buddy?”

  Ethan bit back a retort and tightened his fists, suppressing the urge to show this idiot what kind of impression he’d like to make on his face.

  “It’s sweet that you tried, but Simplicity is, how should I say this? Simplicity is a unique brand of wine. She needs to be handled a certain way. Sipped, not guzzled. Though, boy, she does make you want to guzzle her, doesn’t she? I’ve spent some time getting to know her,” the inspector nudged Ethan in that universal fraternal gesture that Ethan hadn’t received since his high school football days, “if you know what I mean. She’s quite the spitfire. Seems she gets around a bit, too, so don’t feel bad if you don’t get a callback for the next audition.”

  Ethan growled deep in his throat, but he refused to turn toward the little prick. Self-control. Self-control.

  Self-control was over-rated.

  His body tensed, ready to fight.

  But then Simplicity’s face floated before the curtain of red hot anger in his mind. Her sweet, seductive smile. Her confidence in his ability to be a human. A man.

  She’d disapprove.

  She might not get angry with him if he shattered a nose or some cheekbones, but she wouldn’t like it.

  He didn’t know much about her—aside from the way the moonlight made her strawberry blonde hair glow and the way her dancer-like legs moved as she flitted around his kitchen and the way her hands were so certain as they touched his body and the way her eyes could penetrate through to his dark soul, illuminating it in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible—but he knew she abhorred violence of any kind. Hell, she didn’t even eat animals. Not even the delicious ones.

  He didn’t have a future. Not with her. Not with anyone. He skated through life one moment at a time, and quite honestly, if he didn’t have the drive to torture his father with his presence, he’d stop skating altogether.

  He’d have to disentangle himself from the mesmerizing web of Simplicity, but he didn’t have to make her hate him first.

  “This fundraiser is cute, isn’t it? I’m so proud of Simplicity for doing so much for charity.”

  Ethan could feel the insurgent’s eyes penetrating the side of Ethan’s skull, probing to see how deeply his words had cut.

  The prick continued talking, but Ethan had enough. Though not man enough to say something direct enough to warrant a violent
response, the inspector had insinuated plenty.

  He couldn’t punch him, no matter how much his knuckles itched to make contact.

  He didn’t have to stay and listen to it, either.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  Had Simplicity really been involved with this taunting, mocking twat bag?

  Was she still?

  “Hey, man, I can try to put in a good word for you. We’re on the same team, I swear! Heck, it doesn’t even seem like she’s holding what your old man tried to do against you.”

  Ethan focused on the crunch of the snow beneath his boots. He deepened his breath, allowing the frigid air to burn his lungs. Escape. That’s what he needed to do.

  “No harm, no foul, man. Even with your father trying to interfere, she still managed to pull it off. Guess he’s not too keen on his prince scraping the bottom of the barrel for his love life, but I’m sure he’ll learn to realize that Simplicity is far more valuable than her net worth would imply.”

  News of his father’s interference didn’t shock him. He had heard rumblings. But he hadn’t put two and two together. He hadn’t considered that the old bat had lashed out against Simplicity’s good intentions because of her involvement with him.

  But it would be just like the asshole.

  His shoulder bumped past someone—it may have been one of Simplicity’s sisters. He couldn’t stop. He needed to get out of here before the mountains fell on him. Before the air ran out. Before he self-destructed.

  He heard Simplicity’s voice calling out to him, but when he turned around to face her, all he could see was a town full of enemies.

  She ran toward him, her sisters following in her wake.

  “Stop.” His voice carried over the live band in the near distance. His hand didn’t shake when he held it out to warn her away, but the blood inside him rushed and jumped and rebelled.

  “Ethan, don’t leave. I’m sorry I was pulled away, but—”

  “Stop,” he repeated. “I’m done.”

  “Done with the fundraiser?”

  Her sisters flanked her now, a small team of soldiers more threatening than any battalion.

  “No. Done with this whole charade. You go on and be a do-gooder for this town. It’s not my gig.”

  “I didn’t ask you—”

  “All you’ve done is ask things of me. I’ll give this much to you—you are extremely effective at the good old-fashioned guilt trip. Better than my mother ever was.” He watched the tears fill her eyes. “I’m all set. Take your pity party somewhere else.”

  “I’ve never pitied you.”

  Stoic and strong, she deserved better.

  He had to put a nail in this coffin before any more demons crawled out.

  She swiped at a tear with the back of her mitten. “I know you care about me.”

  Though the snow had ceased falling, a giant flake fell from the sky and settled on her nose. He wanted to capture it with his kiss. To pull her to him and never let her go.

  That was the problem.

  “It’s beyond my capability to care. Ask your sisters—I can see they know my type.” He turned toward the car. “You were great in the physical sense, though. Thanks for that extra service. I’ll put in a good word with Miss Molly.”

  Ethan climbed into his car and revved his engine as he spun out of the well-sanded lot.

  He didn’t bother looking in his rearview mirror.

  He was nobody’s charity case.

  ***

  “You can’t fix that kind of broken, Simplicity.”

  Paisley’s warning tone cut directly to Simplicity’s center of gravity, nearly knocking her off balance as she fiddled with the broken machine.

  At least now it wasn’t spitting anymore.

  “I’ll fix it. Stop underestimating me.”

  “I’m not talking about the machine.”

  Simplicity paused but continued facing the wall, grateful she had sent the teens who had been manning the booth to the house for more towels.

  Freedom took the opportunity to share her uninvited opinion, too. “There are so many great guys in this town. Rogan knows everyone—I can have him set you up if you’re lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely.” Simplicity closed her eyes for the briefest moment in an attempt to re-center herself.

  “Simplicity, you’re so beautiful,” Paisley began. Every bit the lawyer, she paced the small area as if preparing her closing statement in a trial.

  Simplicity couldn’t see the pacing, but she could hear it.

  “And sweet!” Freedom added.

  “And incredibly kind.”

  “You’re generous to a fault.”

  “Compassionate.”

  Simplicity sighed as they continued their litany of her supposedly good traits (though she suspected they didn’t find these things to be positive.)

  “Remember all those half-dead birds and chipmunks she made us take care of when we were young?”

  “How could I forget the graveyard in the back?”

  “Hey, some of those animals recovered with our care!” Simplicity felt her cheeks burn. “Was I supposed to leave them to die? Besides, it was your cat who kept attacking them and leaving them for dead!”

  Paisley laughed. “You’ve got me there. He was a serial killer, that cat.”

  “No, just a serial torturer,” Freedom said, laughing.

  Simplicity didn’t laugh. She’d never laugh again.

  “And then Harmony would try to one up Simplicity by taking in every flea-ridden, scabied stray she could find.”

  All three sisters stopped their banter. Simplicity sighed, wishing Harmony could be there with them to rehash their childhood.

  Nobody had heard from her for years.

  Simplicity wrote her a letter every week and sent it, along with a wildflower or leaf or something to connect her to her sister, to her last known address.

  She had no idea if Harmony received any of the letters, but Simplicity sent them anyway. Even though there was never a response, the letters helped Simplicity to feel connected to her long-lost sister.

  They never came back to her, but maybe that’s because she refused to put a return address on the envelope.

  She always put it on the letter, though.

  “You deserve better, Simp.”

  “Better? Better than what?” Simplicity stopped studying the machine and turned to her sisters, daring them to keep going with their line of conversation.

  “Come on, Simplicity. You have to have noticed how he didn’t even try to fit in. He didn’t say a word to us. Your sisters. Shouldn’t he be trying to make a good impression?”

  Last. Straw. Broken. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have missed the part where you, in your enlightened state of mind, invited conversation with him. I’m sure you welcomed him with a kind heart and with no judgment, right? Oh wait, my memory is coming back now.” Simplicity brought a hand to her forehead dramatically. “I see it now—the assessing looks, the sour faces, the snobby tones.”

  “Give me a break. You can’t be that naïve. She can’t be that naïve, can she, Freedom?” Paisley’s hands flew to her hips.

  Freedom nodded slowly, rolling her eyes. “Yup, she can be.”

  “You guys need to stop.” Simplicity slammed a spoon against the rickety table, wishing it were bigger so the noise would have been more shocking. “You have no idea what it took for him to come here. You think he did it because he cares about impressing you? Or because he wanted to hang with the community? No. He hates being in public. He’s antisocial for a reason, my dear sisters, and people like you don’t help him feel any more comfortable in his skin!”

  Simplicity wiped tears off her cheeks, startled at how much anger had snuck up on her.

  “He didn’t come here because he wanted to be here. He came here for me.” Simplicity sniffled, staring down her sisters. “It’s not my job to fix him. He’s not broken. He came here for me.”

  “Did you even hear the shit he sa
id to you? Don’t kid yourself into thinking he gives a rat’s ass about you or your feelings.”

  “You’re wrong. His words are a shield. He’s trying to keep me away because he doesn’t think he deserves love.”

  “You do not love him. Jesus, Simplicity.” Paisley twisted her earring. “Tell me you haven’t convinced yourself that you’re in love yet again.”

  Her sisters would never understand her. She didn’t understand her own feelings toward Ethan—how would she possibly explain?

  Paisley continued to stare into Simplicity’s eyes, but Freedom looked away.

  When it became clear that Paisley wasn’t about to back down, Simplicity turned her back to her, focusing again on the broken machine.

  She found a piece that had become disconnected and put it back in place. She plugged in the machine, turned it on, and smiled as the thing started working with ease.

  “There. Fixed it.”

  Simplicity threw her head back, straightened her shoulders, and marched past her sisters, not saying another word.

  ***

  The moments leading to the end of the fundraising event ticked by too slow for Simplicity, even though she tried her hardest to live the mantra of “every second counts,” and “live in the moment.” None of that rang true in her current state of aching heart and twisted mind.

  She had felt emotional pain before. Too many times to count. Every relationship ended with it. Some even started with it. This was worse.

  Ethan had opened up. Not a garage door-sized opening, but a cat door, at least. Maybe she couldn’t fit all the way through his opening, but she could at least catch a glimpse of him, and at this point, she considered that huge progress.

  He had effectively attempted to seal off the opening, but she hoped she could pry it open again when she next saw him. Maybe the glue he desperately applied to the wounded door to his soul wouldn’t be dry.

  Showing up at her fundraising event was monumental. On a scale of dragons, his effort wasn’t quite fire-breathing, but he was far beyond the egg-hatching stage.