“Again?” Aster asked. “What was it before?”
“Purple this morning, but on the way over here it was blue,” I blurted.
“Oh…” Aster scooted until we were squished up against each other, her sweet curves pressing into my side, and she hugged me to her.
“I don’t know what I said or did to deserve this, but thank you,” I enthused as her breasts pressed up against me, until I could feel her heartbeat. Hot damn.
“Blue is sad, upset, hurt, devastated,” Cliffie said as he finished off his sweat tea.
“And purple?” I murmured, glancing between them.
“Purple is love, loverboy. Smitten, happy, content.” Cliff nodded as the waitress dropped off the bill. He insisted on paying, getting up to take care of it at the register.
Aster’s hair had been purple, a brilliant shade, but now it was pink… I was afraid to ask what that meant. I wanted her to have purple hair. I wanted her to love me… I wanted her hair to flow with it, openly.
“Have dinner with me later,” I nearly begged, taking her hands in mine to lean in and kiss her softly.
Biting her lip, her gaze darted up to meet mine before dipping.
“I’ll get down on one knee and beg, in front of everyone in this whole restaurant, if I have to. I have onion rings and everything,” I warned, lifting one up to waggle it at her.
A sweet, snorted laugh left her. “And if I’m willing to hold out for the onion ring proposal?” she teased slyly.
“Aster…” I began to freeze. Shit! My eyes widened and I squirmed.
“Aster Iris Fallan,” she whispered, giggling softly, even as her face flushed a deep burgundy and Christmas tree needles brilliant green.
“Aster Iris Fallan Marsh,” I started, hopping out of the booth to kneel right there in front of her, “will you do me the honor of coming to my house for dinner tonight?” Head bowing, I held out an onion ring to her, then lifted my head to give her my best puppy dog eyes.
“Yes,” she laughed, taking the onion ring to jerk me to my feet and kiss me.
People in the restaurant cheered, looking slightly confused but happy for us.
“Great, you proposed with a glitter pickle shmeckle smear on your face.” Cliff frowned as he came up on this scene. “Did someone get a picture?”
“Cliff!” Aster chastised, making her brother grin.
“What?” he barked on a laugh. “I’m just sayin’.” The man’s smile was devilish, eyes twinkling. “Momma and Dad are never gonna believe this without proof!”
Chapter 22
Aster
Iwas nervous. It was silly to feel so discombobulated. Wasn’t it? My palms were so sweaty I was surprised I wasn’t sprouting mushrooms on my palms, or algae.
It was just dinner with my mate… no big deal. Then why was I in a near state of panic?
Not wanting to feel like a total goob yet again, I’d dressed down this time. Running sneakers I’d yet to ever run in them with but they were like clouds cushioning my feet after a long day, my comfortable but nice black stretch denim jeans, light grey Death Becomes Her t-shirt I’d made during one of my more creative phases, and my super soft burgundy colored knit button up sweater. I was cute but casual, or so I hoped, getting out of my car to walk around to my trunk.
This was a do-over, and I wanted to do this first date over the way I’d imagined. I mean, as close as I could get, all things considered.
Taking a deep breath, I popped the trunk and grabbed the glass bottles I’d stuffed into the pit of random crap back there.
With the cardboard of the soda pop carton holding the old fashioned looking bottles digging into my belly, I cautiously made my way up his walk.
His porch light was on, the sun room lit with a warm, if faint, glow. I was going at a snail’s pace, like I was walking to the gallows and not a very much anticipated date with my fated mate. My mate. Leafy vines erupted from my scalp, shivering just thinking about him. They trembled as I recollected busting up his last date.
A sound from inside the house had me glancing up as I reached the first front porch step and hesitated.
