“And you want to do that here with me?”
My face heats under his scrutiny. I can’t believe I’m talking about uprooting my entire life in Georgia. But there’s nothing left for me there. It’s time to quit the agency, I finished school, and my next step is on the horizon. The next step seems unfairly easy sitting here on Beau’s couch, in Beau’s house.
“If you’ll let me.”
Beau chuckles again, sending my heart on a rapid gallop through my chest. Everything about Beau makes me feel free and light, like I could fly if I really put my mind to it. No one could ever give me what Beau does.
“I’m going to date the hell out of you,” Beau vows, voice low and sure.
“I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I left you at the worst possible time. How are you doing?”
My question seems to momentarily startle Beau. Makes sense to me because I’m sure not many people have checked on him the past few months. My darling, sweet Beau, everyone’s rock but no one is there for him. That’s going to change now that I’m back. I’m going to carry him, just like he’s so willing to carry me.
“I’m… okay.” Beau squeezes my hand tightly. He lets out a careful, slow breath. “I’ve been focusing on the farm. Been working on other projects too.”
“Tell me,” I beg because I need to know everything I’ve missed.
His eyes twinkle with unrestrained joy. “I can show you.”
His large hand envelops my own as he drags me through the house to the back porch. Just as inviting as I remember, even the smell is the same. Sound is a little different now though. The cicadas aren’t oppressively loud, in fact I don’t hear any at all. Their absence is actually sad to me. The sound of the bugs had been comforting. A distraction from the constant racing of my heart when I was in Beau’s dizzying orbit.
But maybe I don’t need the distraction anymore.
Beau leads me out further into the yard, away from the house. Something else is different now. That’s when I spot it. A garden rests between two large oak trees, but it’s not full of plants, instead full of flowers and small bushes. White flowers bloom from the bushes and the scent is heady, like jasmine butwith a sharper edge. The warm scent is inherently comforting, filling my lungs until all I can smell is flowers and Beau.
“It’s beautiful, Beau.”
He smiles sheepishly at me again, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I built it for you.”
My eyes go cartoonishly wide. “For me?”
“Yeah. Gardenias are the southern rose… my mama always said they’re the flower of love. So, I planted them here to wait for you. I knew you’d come back to me, so I wanted to have this for you… to show you that I was thinking about you the whole time.”
“Jesus Christ.” I launch myself into his arms with a delighted laugh.
One of Beau’s hands tangles in my hair, the other under my ass to hold me close to him as I wrap my legs tight around his waist. My joyful laugh presses into the warm skin of his neck, full of more happiness than I knew was possible. Four days is all it took to fall for this man, and he waited for me, like a man from a bygone era. Deserving him will be my life’s mission.
Hope blooms in my chest as I gaze down at Beau. Love radiates from him, through his eyes, his tender smile, even in the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth hidden under his unruly beard. Abundant amounts of love reside within him, so much reserved solely for me.
“Sweetheart,” Beau murmurs softly, fingers gently flexing in my hair. “What do you want me to call you? Trevor? Levi?”
“I don’t feel like Levi anymore.” I tilt my head, so his thumb slides along my jaw. He smiles, warm and sweet. “I thought maybe I would, that’s why I asked you to call me Levi that night… but you make mefeellike Trevor. I’m the real me when I’m with you.”
“Trevor, then? And sweetheart when you make my heart skip a beat?”
I nod rapidly against his firm grip. A wide grin spreads across my lips when he pulls me down for a palpitation-inducing kiss. It’s difficult to kiss when both of us are grinning, but we make a solid attempt. His beard scratches against my face, and I oddly missed that too. I expect him to carry me into the house, to the bedroom, and make love to me, but Beau always surprises me.
He gently places me back on my feet and carefully fixes my hair with his work-roughened fingers. Seemingly happy with the state of my hair, he pulls away to pluck a gardenia from a bush. One of those smiles that is only ever for me graces his lips as he carefully places the flower between my thumb and forefinger. Gently gripping the bloom, I raise it to my nose to deeply inhale the gorgeous perfume of the ivory petals. It’s silky soft against the pads of my fingers.
“I love it,” I admit, tone close to reverent.
“Good,” Beau says gruffly.
I pull it away and tuck it behind my ear with a content smile. “You going to make love to me now, Beau?”
“No.”
“What?”
