PRESENT DAY
Paisley is 18. Saint is 35.
Great. Just great.
I can’t believe I locked myself out of the house on a night like tonight. Not only is it my eighteenth birthday—not that I care much about it—but my father hasn’t showed up yet, even though he should have finished work at the hospital by now… this isn’t like him.
After all, he was the one to book dinner reservations at this new rustic Italian restaurant in the heart of Sacramento to encourage us to do something different when it comes to celebrations. But now, as I glance down at my watch and it veers onto seven o’clock, hope fades. I’ve been sitting on my wooden porch steps for an hour in this sweltering humidity of a day with no luck of getting the door unlocked as I left my phone, my purse, and house key inside.
Yeah, today is definitely not my day.
Earlier on, I thought I heard my father hoot his car horn and so I rushed outside in my floral satin robe to tell him I need a few more minutes as I was having trouble picking an outfit, only to find it was just a passing car and I had locked myself out in the hurry.
My only hope is that my dad returns home soon, but as time goes on, I’m not so sure. I can’t even get up and render assistance in my half-naked state. With all limited options exhausted, I run my hands over my face and through my wavy, dark hair.
How can you do this to yourself, Paisley?
I shake my head at just how unlucky one person can be. This could only happen to me.
Just when I think I may die in here… I hear it, the engine roar of road thunder. I know that sound. I’ve heard it during all hours of the day and night for the past three years… a Harley’s rumble. It’s loud and clear in the middle of my despair.
A dark, shiny Harley Davidson turns into my street here on Portola Way, alongside three other similar bikes that follow close behind in a V-type formation. The vibrating engines grip at my chest, trembling my entire soul. I can only hope it’s Saint.
Although I’m not too sure what Saint can do to help seeing as he gave me back the only spare key he had for my house at the start of the year when I began working part-time at Maralyn’s Florist. It’s senior year and I needed a key to enter after walking home from my shifts. My father said he was going to copy another spare for Saint because it’s always good for him to have in case of an emergency, but with work being so hectic he hasn’t had the chance to do it yet.
But… maybe just maybe Saint can help me out of this mess.
Or, maybe he can tell me what’s keeping Dad seeing as my phone is inside my house.
The four motorbikes kill their engines in front of Saint’s house, striking down their kickstands almost synchronously. It almost seems like a scene out of an outlaw movie, a gang of tattered-up men, leather jackets their tough uniform, three with full-face helmets and another younger-looking man I don’t recognize with a black bandana with skulls and crossbones and a buzz cut.
I lower my legs and cross them over the porch steps, well aware I only have hipster panties on and a bra that’s too small for me underneath this satin robe. The frilly white lace bra exposes way more cleavage than I would ever show, and the robe doesn’t do too good of a job hiding it.
I gulp down hard at the sight of Saint pulling off his full-face helmet. Whoa. After resting his black helmet on the handlebars of his Harley, Saint rakes a hand through his beautiful dark hair, giving it that sexy bad boy tousled look. His vibrant blue eyes entice me from feet away and he isn’t even looking my way. Just then, he laughs at something inaudible Leo says, and those deep, long dimples come to play over his short, stubbled beard.
Aside from Leo, Nico’s also present, but as they all swing off their sleek bikes, Saint speaks to the unfamiliar younger-looking man.
I don’t know what to do. Don’t know if I should approach him or let it go and wait it out a little longer for my father. My decision chooses for itself when the four men begin to approach the gate of Saint’s house and I launch up from the wooden porch, unexpectedly catching the attention of the younger man.
He nudges Leo and nods toward me with a sly smirk. “Look at that fuckin’ hot babe,” he says, his voice booming. “Hey, baby! I’m sure there’s a spot open at the new strip joint that just opened downtown if you want to give your incredible tits a run for their money.”
Oh.
My.
God.
My eyes widen in shock. What the hell?
The nerve of this guy!
The man roars in laugher, capturing the attention of all the other men… including Saint, but he isn’t laughing, he’s livid. I’ve never seen eyes like his turn to stone-cold black so quickly as his attention snaps to the younger man.
Loud thuds in my chest trail up my body like burning waves of electricity. Lethal electricity. I simply stand here on my porch steps, gaping and incapable of saying a single word.
“Saint, I didn’t know Alaric’s little girl grew up that fast. Oh, she’s looking at me now. Hey, baby, want me to put that gorgeous mouth of yours to work?” The young man winks, a full-blown smirk on his lips as he suggestively clutches his crotch. “Time of your fuckin’ life. Believe me.”
I cringe. For the love of God, can I just punch this guy in the nose already?
Just as I’m about to tell him to shove his comment up his ass, Saint has him in a headlock faster than I can blink. Saint’s muscular, toned right arm wraps around the guy’s neck, restricting him firmly. Whoa.
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you bastard,” Saint grits near the man’s ear. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ speak to Paisley or any damn woman like that. She’s not yours to fucking comment on, so keep your damn hands and eyes off her before I mess you the hell up. Understood?”
Oh my God.
The young man simply chuckles, redness crawling up his face. “Come on, man, I was just teasing. She’s hot, that’s all.” His hands grip onto Saint’s muscles to loosen the strain, but Saint doesn’t allow it and instead tightens it. It takes seconds for the man to gulp down and begin coughing, slapping on Saint’s arms to let go, but he doesn’t do a thing. “Okay, okay, okay, I understand. This won’t happen again. Promise.”
“She’s Alaric’s daughter. She doesn’t need to hear the shit that comes out of your mouth, got it?”
“Yes, got it. You can let go of me.”
“I let go of you whenever I fucking feel like it, got it, Jason?”
“Yes, got it.” Jason nods, gasping for air.
Saint’s jaw tightens when his eyes meet mine in a lingering gaze. It’s as if he’s staring straight through me. Jason struggles in Saint’s grip, tensing in the chokehold. Nico and Leo simply watch on as if this is a normal Friday night. Leo even pulls out a cigarette to his lips and leans against the fence, his leather boot up against it. Normal.
But it isn’t to me.
This isn’t normal.
Not even in the slightest.
Scarlet blotches rise on Jason’s face as his hands fall away from Saint’s bicep when Saint lets go. Jason falls to his knees, massaging his neck in a fit of coughs. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“Talk to Paisley like that again and you’ll wake up in a hospital or perhaps not even at all, you piece of shit.” Saint kicks him hard in the groin and Jason lets out a howl, gripping his crotch with a hand, his head to the concrete ground. My neighbor dusts off his leather jacket and turns to the other men. “Get him inside. All of you.”
Oh my…
What the hell just happened?
My eyes lock with Saint until it’s just us around. The back of my throat has never felt this dry, and it only worsens as Saint walks up to me, his jaw clenched. I see tension in every single part of him, and yet he’s still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Yes, he’s a little older than me, well, a lot older… eighteen years older to be exact—but that never stopped a woman from looking before… or ahem, gawking.
I can’t peel my eyes away from how damn sexy and reckless Saint looks. He’s getting closer and I love the way his white T-shirt hugs his solid pecs and biceps and how his jeans are that perfect shade of worn-out baby blue. His light outfit complements his beautiful Italian olive skin and the stunning dark ink that laces down his left sleeves, stopping short of his wrist.
For the first time since we met, Saint stood up for me.
He was there for me.
Protected me.
The first thing Saint does when he’s in front of me is grip the edges of my robe and inch them closer together, hiding away my breasts. My eyes shut at the warmth of his calloused knuckles brushing against my cleavage. I know it’s by accident. A quick accidental motion as he closes my robe up and pulls away, but I still feel sparks I know I shouldn’t feel about him.
We live in completely different worlds. He’s the bad boy. I’m the good girl. He shouldn’t come to my rescue like this. I shouldn’t have these sparks spreading across my entire body. It’s the same odd sensation that grips me when I reopen my eyes to his ocean eyes and instantly shut them again.
Stop feeling like this.
Stop making something out of nothing, Paisley.
Saint’s touch lingers and he raises his hand to softly caress my jaw. In one sweep motion, he pushes back a loose wave behind my ear and rests his thumb against my chin to lift my head to him. Every inch of his warm touch electrifies me. “You okay, kid?”
I meet his eyes and manage to nod. “I am now. Do you know where my father is?”
“Work emergency at the hospital. He told me to let you know he’s going to be a little late as he couldn’t get through to you.”
Makes sense.
“Oh,” I whisper, gulping down.
Fumbling with my hands, my gaze meets my shoes and I let out a heavy breath.
At least Dad’s okay.
The air crackles as silence takes over between us. I try to concentrate on the warm Sacramento breeze… on the sidewalk trees as they rustle in the air, leaves swaying… on anything, but with my wildly beating heart, it isn’t so easy.
“Paisley, what’s going on?” Saint raises my chin higher until his eyes are all I see. “Why were you out here when I arrived?”
“Well… I kind of locked myself out.”
“Then let me help you get back in.” He pauses for a moment. “Let me also apologize on behalf of Jason for what happened. He’s a newbie Nico is training. What he said was beyond unacceptable and disrespectful. Don’t know why Nico didn’t say anything. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again. You can trust me on that.”
I smile. “Thank you, Saint. I really appreciate it.”
Inside, my eyes are widening in pure shock because this is such a different man from when we first met. I don’t expect Saint to be here for me, protecting me. We don’t matter to each other like that. For the past three years, it’s been tense conversation and glares, but for some reason, that isn’t tonight.
In the past year, my disdain for Saint turned into having a crush on my father’s best friend. I don’t know when exactly everything changed but I feel as though something changed the day I attempted to perform to him the lines of poetry I’ve kept buried inside me.
Now, I feel my walls slowly coming down and that the dynamic between us is shifting.
I’m not sure into what, but it’s shifting.
“Also, thanks for standing up for me.” I casually wrap my arms around my waist. “It means a lot.”
“Anytime.” Saint’s eyes flicker down to my cleavage, and he instantly snaps his attention away from me, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, Paisley,” he groans.
I glance down and gasp. “Shit! I knew I shouldn’t have put this bra on. I freaking hate it!”
“Yeah, I didn’t need to hear that.” Clearing his throat, Saint grips the back collar of his white T-shirt and peels it over his body. Oh, wow. He simply hands it to me to wear while he stands there looking like some shirtless sex god. “Here, put this on.”
I’m left gaping and not so subtly eyeing Saint’s beautifully sculpted abs, narrow waist, and that vaunted V-cut for a little too long… but I can’t help it. It’s hot and tempting and laced in undeniable desire. Arousal heats my blood as I fixate a little too long on the sexy, short trail of dark hair beneath his navel that runs down the center of his V-cut and disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Oh my good God… so sexy.
Being a former professional boxer and current personal trainer, there’s no denying how much Saint’s body screams grit and endless resilience from maintained fitness. I love all the ridges, grooves, divots along his body. Love the devotion and thrill that must come from not only being your best self, but feeling your best and also putting that into a career.
I’ve admired the tattoos across Saint’s body too many times to count in this past year alone. I’ve been in his pool countless times, subtly absorbing every detail of his left arm sleeve and astonishing back tattoos whenever he and my dad are working the barbeque and not looking.
God, get yourself together, girl.
Gulping down, I know I need to snap myself out of it… for now.
Thanking Saint, I pull his shirt over my robe, his warmth and that alluring, masculine scent of musky sandalwood flooding my every breath. The T-shirt is extremely oversized on me and reaches my mid-thigh, but I guess it’s better than flashing unwanted cleavage at my father’s best friend… a man so off-limits.
“All right, come with me, I have some tools in my shed to get this door opened up.”
I follow suit behind Saint, entering his front yard and turning left alongside the side of his house. As we enter the already open side gate that leads to his backyard, my eyes snap to the huge epic work of art on his back. A thick, black-gray outlined cross runs down his spine, stopping at his mid-back, almost as if it’s 3D. Vines of shadowed roses, thorns, and leaves wrap around the cross. It’s beautiful, almost as if it’s a tribute to somebody special as breathtakingly rendered wide angel wings lace underneath the top half of the cross, expanding up his back and broad shoulders. Then, at the bottom of the cross, a few inches above the two perfect dimples of Venus on his lower back, is a name written in a thin cursive script…
Lea.
It’s as if his back tattoo tells a story of its own. Such beautiful ink.
Who’s Lea?
Saint enters the shed, a little far from the pool, while I wait by the grass. Staring into the glass pocket doors on the adjacent side of his backyard that open to his living room, I eye his friends inside. The three men are all huddled in the living room; Nico cracks open beers, while Leo is deep into a conversation with him on the leather couch. Jason, on the other hand, is limping toward them. My gaze narrows on him, softening as I turn back to Saint.
“Where did you all come from?” I ask.
“The fitness studio.” Saint’s voice comes from inside the shed.
“Oh.”
“Why? What did you think I was gonna say? Church?”
My eyes widen. “Church?”
Saint emerges from the shed chuckling as he holds up a black leather tool bag. “Good reaction. You won’t see me in there. I wouldn’t be allowed into the Jesus type of church, only the devil’s kind.”
A few moments pass.
“Just wondering, why don’t you fight anymore? I asked my father once, but he didn’t give me much. What secrets are you hiding?”
“No secrets.” Saint clears his throat, avoiding my gaze. “There comes a stage when you need to let go and not overdo it after your peak.”
“That’s true. I can imagine that personal training is incredible, don’t get me wrong, but I guess with you being so much in the industry you could have ventured into being a boxing coach instead, no?”
“Yeah, I could’ve but… let’s just say at times life fucks with you and you can’t always obtain what you love. So, I switched careers and focused on personal training. I teach self-defense, boot camps, and all that shit instead. It’s better for my headspace.”
“Were any of your fights televised?”
“All.” Saint arches a playful brow. “Why? What are you scheming against me, Paisley Reign?”
“Nothing at all.”
“I don’t believe you…”
“I promise!” I find myself laughing, softly biting down on my lip when he shoots me a slow, beautiful smile. “I just… want to see one of the boxing fights you were in, but I guess it just feels weird searching you up online when I know you personally, you know?”
Saint’s smile instantly falls.
Oh…
His eyes fall away from mine. “Don’t look me up. I don’t want you to see that side of me, Paisley.”
“Why not? Want to keep the reputation of being my knight in shining armor for five minutes out of the three years I’ve known you?” I tease.
“You know I’m anything but that.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you in your element. Understand you more.”
That has his ocean eyes snap to mine. “There’s nothing more to understand about me, Paisley. I shouldn’t…” He shakes his head, blowing out a sigh. “I shouldn’t intrigue you or be somebody you want to know. You’re my best friend’s daughter. We live next door. We’re amicable now. That’s it. Don’t try and find me, or watch me, or anything. Just concentrate on senior year. On yourself. On your future. You shouldn’t give a fuck about me.”
It feels as though my heart has taken a hit and I don’t even know why. Yes, I have feelings for him, a big, reckless crush, but I’m curious. I want to know more, everything there is to know about Saint Lisconti if that’s possible. But he doesn’t want me in. He doesn’t want me to see that side of him. He leaves me no choice but to just accept it.
“I’m sorry. I just thought…” Not even knowing what point I wanted to make, I remain tight-lipped. Glancing down at the grass beneath my feet, I feel Saint’s hot gaze on me. “I just thought we could get to know each other better if we want to be amicable like you said.”
“There’s nothing good about me, Paisley.”
“Well, a part of me is inclined to believe that, but what I really feel like saying is yeah, right,” I murmur and clasp my hands together. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t say that.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m not seeing anybody.”
“I know… I’m just saying in the future. Your future girlfriend or fiancée or wife will love you for you, with all the bad parts included. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing good about you. Just that you have faults and flaws, just like every other human on this planet.”
“But that’s just the thing, Paisley, I don’t do love or real relationships in that case. Not now. Not in the future. It isn’t me, so you can forget about the lovin’ part.”
“Why only casual relationships?”
Yes, you really did just say that out loud, Paisley.
Saint stares at me long and hard. “Because in a world like mine, love isn’t forever, and in my case, not even for a flash of a second.”
It takes a split second to fully grasp what he said. A question brews in my mind, one I wanted to know ever since I set eyes on him returning home tonight. I’m eighteen now, and to be honest, ever since last year something changed for me whenever he looked my way. When he asked me about saying a line of poetry and wiped away my tears, his touch was electric. I wanted more of him, just like I crave more of him now, even though I know I’m nothing to him. Nothing.
“Does that mean you’ve fucked but have never actually made love before?” I blurt out.
Oh. My. God.
Holy sunflowers, does my mouth not know when to just shut it?
You’re a fool, Paisley. Fool. Fool. Fool.
Saint’s shoulders tense, but he gives me nothing more. Absolutely nothing. Not a hint of a smile. Nothing in his eyes. He remains completely motionless as the bright sun casts over his face.
I groan, feeling my cheeks flush. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep by asking—”
“I don’t deserve love. I haven’t deserved it for a long time. Does that answer your question?”
Why doesn’t he deserve it?
Does it have to do with Lea?
“Yes,” I whisper, gulping down. “Yes, it does.”
It’s just like I suspected it to be. Saint is the type of man to fuck hard and fast, not sensually slow and passionate with somebody he truly loves and would go to the end of the earth for… but why? It shouldn’t concern me so much. I know it shouldn’t, especially considering I’ve never had either and he’s eighteen years older, so forbidden… and yet right now it’s just us and that has me thinking wild things. Very bad, wild things.
What is Saint hiding?
He doesn’t want me to see his past fights.
Doesn’t do love.
Doesn’t want me to call him by his real first name.
He’s hurting. But from what?
Does my father know? They’re super close. He must know. But asking my father about his close friend… I can’t do it. It’s too risky. My father can’t know the slightest bit about this fascination I have with his friend. How I just want Saint to see me as something more than the little girl with lilies.
I’m not little anymore. I’m a woman and I know what I want. And that something is Saint. I want to feel his strong arms wrapped around me, his warm lips pressed on mine. I want to feel his rough stubble graze my inner thighs as he takes me to pure ecstasy, pure bliss.
Hmmm. A woman can dream. Just like I did last night when I imagined my vibrator was his tongue and came so damn intensely at the mere thought of that alone. God. So incredible.
“Stay in the house while I get your door open.”
I snap out of my thoughts at Saint’s call as he ventures past me. Huh? I’m breathing heavy and only register what he said moments later. Getting his attention, I gesture toward the glass pocket doors. “You mean you want me to go in there with your friends?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“Honestly, I…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t really feel comfortable going in there with them after what Jason said.”
“He’ll behave himself this time, trust me. Just knock on the pocket doors and one of the guys will open it for you. I’ll come around when I’m done with your front door, all right?”
Saint doesn’t even give me a chance to answer before he strolls away from me, rolling his shoulders back. Damn. Is he pissed at me?
Have I ruined everything?
I’m left standing in the middle of his yard, numb and completely frozen as I eye the pocket doors. I don’t want to go in there. I’ve never been in a room with men like those before and I don’t want today to be the day I find out. I want to follow Saint. Wow, ‘follow Saint’… how the tables have turned.
And yet it’s exactly what I do as my slippers crush the fresh green grass with every jog toward him. I catch up to Saint, only for him to stop in his tracks, and I crash right into his hard, muscular back. Shit. I stumble back with a squeal and land right on my ass in the gravel.
Ouch!
Saint turns to me, arching an amused brow as he eyes me on the ground. “You losing it, kid?”
“You still call me that. I’m not a kid anymore. I prefer Paisley.”
Saint stares at my breasts through the T-shirt and I feel my nipples harden. My heart is pounding, my entire body throbbing in anticipation of the thoughts clouding my mind. But Saint doesn’t give me much. He simply nods and rubs his stubbled jaw with his free hand, as if he’s relieving some tension. “Yeah…” He clears his throat. “Clearly not a kid anymore.”
The air crackles between us.
Say something, Paisley.
ANYTHING!
“I’d rather stay with you and wait by my porch while you open my front door, Saint.”
Saint glances at me for the longest time, as if he’s considering it, then at the last minute averts his gaze to the tool bag he’s holding. “But I may take a little while as I have to go through this shit and figure out how to unlock the door. You and I both know I’m not calling a locksmith. You’ll probably be waiting on your porch with me for a little while…”
“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”
“Well, it’s not with me. I’m not giving into you, Paisley.” Saint sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before slightly crouching down to take my hand in his. His grip is strong, electric, confident… everything I’m not as he helps me back to my feet.
His hand slips away from mine the second we turn back to his backyard, and he knocks on the pocket glass doors. Leo slides them open, smiling kindly at the both of us as we peek our heads inside. I bite my lip and offer a shy smile back while brushing myself off. The other two men snap their attention our way and Jason instantly rolls his eyes at me.
“As you’re all aware by now, this is Paisley. She’s Alaric’s daughter,” Saint announces, so tall and confident. “Paisley will be here for a few moments until I unlock her front door. Leave her the fuck alone or you’ll deal with me, got it?”
All the men nod.
Saint turns to me. “Feeling okay?”
I swallow thickly and let go of a heavy breath. “Sure.”
Yet deep down I feel uncomfortable, and somehow, Saint must manage to see that because next thing I know he curses and says, “Fine, come with me, Paisley.”
Back at my front porch steps, I watch him work his magic on my front door. The grin hasn’t left my lips since we walked back. I love how he was able to understand me.
“I thought a guy like you could kick front doors open.” I smirk.
Saint chuckles. “If I did that, I’d break it off the hinges. You and your father would both kill me if that happened.”
We share a brief warm smile before he turns back to the door in silence, unscrewing a part and jiggling a few things around. It’s as if he’s an expert at this, as if everything he touches turns to gold.
Biting my lip, I lean back against the wooden railing, eyeing the gorgeous beast in front of me. This definitely feels like one of those moments where I should have my phone to film him in his element on YouTube or TikTok and the video goes viral with millions of views. Saint lets out a rough groan as the screwdriver slips from his grip and he picks it back up, but the groan comes out all breathy. So damn sexy.
Yeah, this is definitely one of those viral moments.
I try to concentrate on something else.
The tense silence.
Birds chirping in the distance.
Cars rushing down our street.
An instant replay in my mind of the ‘making love’ question I asked him.
I shake my head to myself. Oh God. I can’t believe I actually said that to him.
“Saint?”
“Mhmmm.”
“I’m sorry if I made things awkward back then. I didn’t mean to mak—”
“It’s already forgotten.”
“Thank you,” I whisper in relief. “Also, thank you for before. For making me feel comfortable.”
“It’s all right.”
More silence, and then…
“Where were you heading tonight?” he asks.
“Out to dinner with Dad, but as I now know he’ll be a little late… it’s my eighteenth.”
“Nothing from your mom again this year?”
“Nothing.”
“So, for now you’ll be alon—”
“Alone? Yep,” I sniffle, unshed tears coating my eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get this emotional about it or play the role of the victim. That’s not what this is at all. I’m just thinking about my mom and how different life would have been if I had known her.”
“But you are the victim, Paisley. There’s constantly victimizing, but then there’s also not seeing ourselves as the victim enough, so we eventually cave from the inside in, and the latter is what you are doing and it’s going to end up killing you inside if you don’t feel those emotions. If you feel hurt, allow yourself to feel it. Don’t make excuses for it when you’re the unfortunate victim in this story with your mom.” Saint jerks his head over his shoulder but never completes the full turn to actually look at me. A sob escapes my mouth and I cover it just as his sharp jaw clenches. “Maybe it’s not my place to talk, Paisley… but you deserve so much more than how she treated you by abandoning you and your father. You really do.”
His words engrave deep into my soul.
You deserve so much more.
“Thank you. In a way it’s all I know, seeing as she left before I could even remember, but it still hurts.”
“You have every right to be hurt. Every single fucking one.”
Something crosses my mind. “Any leads in figuring out what to do when the only person you have leaves you?”
“Working on it, Pais.”
“Okay,” I whisper, just as he unlocks the door and swings it open. “Oh, thank you!”
A desperate relief rushes over me as we stand up. Saint has his head down, hands in his jean pockets as I pull off his T-shirt and wordlessly hand it to him. He takes it with a soft nod and slides it back on. For a moment, I ruminate over the idea of my jasmine scent now mixed with his.
“You can come in if you like…” I offer.
The corner of Saint’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “No permission this time from your father or with your signed paper and contract?”
“Oh my God, no!” I laugh. “None of that. Plus, that was ages ago!”
Saint grins, dimples and all, and it’s one of the first times I’ve seen one last more than a few seconds. He shakes his head softly. “I should get back to the boys. I’m heading out to a fight soon but seeing as your father will be late… if you need me for whatever reason, I’ll come back for you.”
My heart squeezes. All I feel is warmth. “Oh, you don’t have to do that!”
Saint smiles sadly, “Yeah, I do. Nobody deserves to be alone on their birthday. Even girls who are overprotective over lilies.”
Fresh tears well in my eyes and without thinking, I run up to him at full speed. Saint responds instantly, catching me as my legs wrap around his waist and he laces his big arms around me in a bear hug. Arms around his neck, I bury my head in his collar, taking in his cologne as he simply holds me through the trembling tears.
He doesn’t know how much this moment means to me.
Saint’s fingers softly lace through my hair, relaxing me with every touch as he massages the back of my head. I never imagined a man like Saint could hug so well, so tight with no roughness, to be so responsive to me, to witness my vulnerability without judgment.
We don’t have to say a word. It just feels right. He makes me feel right. It’s as if he understands it all and I’ve never had that. Never had somebody I could silently vent to. Not even my father. He would cut me off, tell me to think of other things, but the insecurity and pain remain, burning me deep, and that’s something nobody else seems to understand… except Saint.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffle after a while. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Still wrapped in him, Saint lifts my chin higher, so his eyes are the anchors to my rising tides. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling emotion, Paisley. Ever.”
Our embrace turns so much more intimate. We’re so close as I rest my forehead against his. I feel the sparks envelop my entire body as his hot breath lands on my lips, our eyes shutting as he holds me even tighter to him. I swear if Saint were to rest his hand by my chest right this minute, he’d feel just how crazily it beats… for him.
“Promise me,” he murmurs against my lips. “Promise me you’ll never apologize for it.”
“I promise,” I whisper back, giving into temptation and blindly cupping his stubbled jaw. “I promise I won’t, Saint.”
“Good.”
My cheeks heat as he sets me down and my feet hit the ground. I leave the door open and step inside, shaking my head to myself at my phone and purse that are right there by the hall table. When I step back out onto the porch, I hand Saint my phone to write his number in my contacts. I don’t know why we haven’t done this sooner, perhaps because he’s just one house away, but it’s good to have his number, especially in a case of an emergency with my father.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
Saint saves his number, calls himself so he has mine too, and once he’s done slips his phone back inside his pocket. Smiling, he hands me my phone. “Anything you need, just call me, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, Saint. I really appreciate it.”
“No trouble. Even if you need a ride to work after school or on the weekends, I’m here.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Saint parts his lips, pausing for a moment. “Because maybe I got you all wrong, Pais.”
Maybe I got you all wrong.
I blink up at him, astonished. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Saint simply shrugs, but there’s so much in his clouded eyes he doesn’t allow me time to analyze as he says, “Nothing.” And then he’s gone.
Once inside my house, I shut the door and head to my bedroom. Stripping down, I put on my favorite floral pajamas and make my own dinner—chicken and rice. Just when I’m about to strain the rice, my phone buzzes, and I rush to it, thinking that perhaps it could be Saint, but my thoughts come crashing down when I read the text.
It isn’t Saint, it’s from my father.
DAD: Sorry, sweetheart, I have to cancel our plans for tonight. Work emergency. Don’t think I’ll finish until 10 p.m. or so. I’ll make it up to you, Paisley. Promise.
I spend the rest of my night browsing the net for new flowers and writing poetry. At a quarter to ten, just as I’m about to slip into bed, the doorbell buzzes. I hurry downstairs and swing the front door open, only to find there’s nobody there.
Weird.
I’m just about to shut the door when something on the faded ‘welcome’ mat catches my attention. A white box with a yellow satin bow.
What’s this?
Collecting it, I step inside and press my back against the oak front door. There’s a little envelope attached to the bow, but my curiosity has me opening the box first. A gasp escapes me at what’s inside. A huge cupcake with buttercream frosting shaped in a flawless pink rose. It’s the most beautiful design I’ve ever seen in my entire life!
Ecstatic, I pull out the card and my jaw drops right there and then.
Finally, a flower I won’t step on…
Happy Birthday, wildflower.
There’s no sign-off, but there doesn’t have to be. Not after a night like tonight and not for a man like him. Saint. This is from Saint. He was so raw and compassionate with me tonight, it was like a dream the way he defended me, clasped my hand, held me through my tears.
Maybe he was right…
Maybe I’ve gotten you all wrong too, Saint.
My mind can’t stop racing. He called me wildflower.
Back inside my bedroom, I devour the sweet red velvet cupcake in a flash and send him a text.
Paisley: Wow, what a surprise! Thanks for making everything better, Saint. xx
My heart clenches as I hold my breath and await his response. I feel all these butterflies in the pit of my stomach, threatening to unravel and let go.
The ‘delivered’ under my text message instantly changes to ‘read’.
Saint sees my text within seconds but never replies.
