“In Washington? Yeah, I do. But I like it here too, Dad.”
“You know why that is?”
Jace paused and turned. “Because I grew up here.”
His dad looked at him and pointed to the ground. “It’s because here is where you learned to love what you do. And I’m proud of that.”
Jace nodded, considering his words and their meaning. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t you forget that.”
“Which part?” Jace asked, partly teasing.
His dad paused. “Both.”
Jace smiled.
Liev turned to go but paused at the door. “Oh, hey, I hear it only rains twice a year in Seattle.”
Jace turned to him, frowning. “What?”
His dad smiled. “August to April, and May to July.” He turned. “Don’t forget your umbrella. You’re headed into the rainy season.”
Jace shook his head and laughed.
Chapter 25
After driving around for twenty minutes, Jace spotted Georgie’s car. She could have been anywhere, but her orange Kia—burnt orange Kia—stood out enough that he was fairly confident he could find it. Fortunately, this late in the season and this late in the day, the festival crowds had thinned. He pulled off the road. The compact he drove was a smooth ride, but he couldn’t get over the feeling that he took up way too much space when he parked.
It had been weeks since he’d seen her. Since he’d heard her laugh. He hoped he’d made the right decision, that coming here wasn’t some idea he’d regret later. But after the phone call on the night of Anders’s meltdown, it really wasn’t a decision.
Nope. Keep walking, Jace. Follow your gut. It’s gotten you this far.
He rolled his eyes at himself but kept walking. He saw her looking away from him, her hands on her hips. His heartbeat picked up double time. He left the blacktop and stepped onto dirt. After he’d walked just a few more steps, she turned.
Slowly her eyes widened, her brow lifting in surprise.
He stopped and smiled nervously.
“Jace? What are you doing here?” she asked, slightly out of breath. “I thought you were in Nevada. I thought you had to . . . help your family.”
He pulled his gaze from hers and looked out at the vivid stripes of color, like a quilt laid out beneath a patchy blue-and-gray sky. Georgie stood between the furrows of a tulip field in her winged rain boots and honey hair.
He returned to her waiting gaze. “I came to disturb the universe.”
She considered that, an intense look in her eyes. Her knee bounced a little. “What about your dad? And the diner?”
He took a few steps closer as he spoke. “He’s selling it to my sister. He’s retiring with Mom. I’ll be back at Peter and Andrew’s on Monday.” He waited, hoping to see relief or joy or something on her face. “After what happened, Reuben offered me a raise to come back now, which worked out pretty well because I was already on my way here.”
She stepped toward him, her expression unreadable. “But I thought you weren’t coming back.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know, and then I did. I came back because”—cautiously he waved his finger between the two of them—“I’d like to see where this leads.” He swallowed nervously. “I don’t want to rush anything. I’m sorry . . . for leaving the way I did. I—”
She seemed to be having trouble breathing. “You’re staying?”
He nodded.
She bit her lip before a smile spread widely over her mouth, but her eyes became glassy. “So you’re home?”
He reached for her hand. She took it, wrapping her fingers in his. “I’m sorry you’ve been through so much,” he said quietly.
“I’m okay,” she said. And the way she said it, he almost believed her. “I’m glad you’re back.”
She was glad. He could see it. Good, she was glad. He’d take that.
“Did you know?” she asked. “I’m registered for classes. I’m going to Le Cordon Bleu.”
He grinned. Reuben had told him. “That’s really good news.”
She squeezed his hand. “You know what we should do?” she asked. “We should go for a ride.”
He grimaced. “Well . . . that’s a great idea, but I don’t have my bike.”
She looked past him. “Where is it?”
He pressed his lips together. “I traded it in.”
“For what?” The shock on her face was the first sign of fire in her he’d seen since he’d arrived. Somehow it flooded him with relief, and he gripped her hand more firmly.
The corner of his mouth drew up. “A car,” he answered.
She blinked back at him. “But . . . what about your motorcycle?”
He swallowed hard, partly amused, partly frustrated, forgetting what he’d planned to say next. He was tempted to skip it all, pull her close, and never let her go because she was concerned about his stupid motorcycle.
“I needed something more practical—”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Look, forget the car—” He tried to focus and remember what he wanted to say and what he wanted to do. Stick to the plan. It had worked for him so far.
He reached behind him for the tulip he’d stuck in the back of his jeans and held it in front of her as she stood in the field of color. His heart thumped in his chest. The stem was a little smashed.
She gasped as the flower drew her attention, and she met his gaze. “It’s the Rhapsody.”
He nodded. “I was thinking . . .” Dang, this was harder than he imagined. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out. For real, like a date. Of course like a date, you know, with food or a show or something.” He knew he should have had something specific already planned. He was making a mess of things.
“With food or a show?” she repeated, looking up at him.
He nodded. “Or something.”
She took the tulip and held it to her nose, spinning it just a bit so the petal edges brushed her skin. She looked up at him. “Can we cook something? Together?”
With that single question, his nerves calmed. “Yeah. Anything you want.” He swallowed. “Do you have any ideas?”
She nodded. “I want to try sweet bacon peanut burg—”
He pulled her close, kissing her before she even finished. The rush of that kiss in the cooler returned, compounded by how much he’d missed her, how much he wanted to be in her life. She kissed him back with soft, sweet lips and a surprising determination in her embrace.
Yeah. Good decision.
She pulled away just for a moment. “Tru said tulips are given as a declaration of love. Did you know that?”
He stepped back, and she almost lost her balance. He steadied her. He shook his head, and she swallowed, blinking up at him.
“I would have brought you a truckload,” he said honestly.
She smiled.
So much for not rushing anything.
But she didn’t look worried. Something had changed in her. She no longer seemed . . . afraid. He stepped back to her and leaned in, slower this time.
“You’re very close,” she said, her gaze steady.
He nodded. She was beautiful, and he was going to spend a long time asking her questions. She reached for him, grasping the front of his shirt and drawing him closer.
Kissing Georgie was like . . . getting caught in a summer storm: a gentle rain soon rumbling with thunder and electricity.
“Jace.” Her fingers had slid up his chest and found the nape of his neck. A few drops of rain had begun to fall.
“Yeah?” He pressed his lips to hers again and watched her through half-opened lids.
“You promised me you were safe.” She was solemn but gently curled the hair at the back of his neck, sending currents beneath his skin.
He frowned, then nodded, not sure what she was getting at.
A smile played at her mouth like sun through clouds. She whispered, “Liar.”
He grinned and grabbed her up, laughing along with h
er squeal. The clouds above them broke, and they gasped in the downpour. He took her hand to run to the car.
“No.” She pulled him back. “No, it’s perfect.” She reached up and kissed him again.
And again.
And again.
Other Books by Krista Lynne Jensen
Of Grace and Chocolate
The Orchard
Falling for You
Love Unexpected: With All My Heart (contributor)
About the Author
Nearly every one of Krista Lynne Jensen’s elementary school teachers noted on her report card that she was a daydreamer. It was not a compliment. So when Krista grew up, she started putting those daydreams down on paper for others to enjoy. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking, hiking, her family, and sunshine. But not laundry. She never daydreams about laundry.
Until the age of ten, Krista lived in the Pacific Northwest and explored much of the Puget Sound with her family. The rain never stopped them. Later she returned, visiting her aunts’ home on beautiful Camano Island. Her favorite time to visit was during the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival as everything was blooming and mostly dripping wet.
Krista is a member of LDStorymakers. Visit her blog at kristalynnejensen.blogspot.com and like her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/Author KristaLynneJensen.
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