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Goddammit.
I can’t stop gawking at her for very different reasons.
Not because of what she’s saying when I’ve heard it all before. Rather, it’s how she lights up when she nerds out about her precious little honey farm.
She’s human glitter, radiant as hell when she’s caught in the one thing in the world she loves unconditionally above all else.
It makes me wish her idiot parents or that jackal ex would never take this away from her.
If I had my way, I’d leave her with bright, happy eyes that could rival the moon and the widest grin to go with her clumsy, gesturing hands.
I’d make sure she gets to be this fresh-faced, excited young woman when she talks about honey without another care in the world.
I’d find a way to keep her grinning because it’s so fucking endearing.
That’s because you want to kiss her again, idiot,I tell myself.
Apparently, when she’s around, my sex drive doesn’t have an ‘off’ switch, but when she’s like this, there’s nothing I want to do more than kiss her sweetly, tenderly, and press my teeth into her plush little lip to whisper what she needs without words.
Woman, it’s going to be okay. I promise.
Your damn bees are all you should ever have to fuss about.
Shit, I’d even listen to her ramble for hours.
As long as it takes to know that emptiness in her eyes isn’t waiting again as soon as her family injects more misery into her life.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I really wonder as she runs out of words and stops motormouthing to breathe.
Then Mom turns to me. “My, no wonder Colt’s taken such an interest in beekeeping. How could anyone be bored of this?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think he’s planning a whole biology project on it.”
“Biology? He isn’t busy enough with his summer math classes?”
“For fun,” I say with a proud snort. “He and that Evans kid are going out to document the lifecycle of our local bees and enter them into some big national app for bee studies. If it keeps him out of trouble, I can’t complain.”
“Pure genius,” Winnie says warmly. “God, I wish I had half his brains when I was that age. It would’ve savedmea lot of grief.”
That agehonestly wasn’t that long ago for her when she’s only twenty-five.
Sometimes I forget the age gap between us.
It doesn’t impact us when we’re together, but when I step back and think, it’s a glaring reminder that this madness we’ve fallen into can’t last.
There are rules to life, just like dating.
This is an ongoing hookup with a damsel in distress, and I’m the ass clown with the calcified brain breaking every one of them by keeping it going.
“Mrs. Rory,” Winnie starts.
“Delly, remember? No stuffy formality around here, darlin’.”
“Delly… Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”
“Certainly. Right down the hall and to the left. Big white door. Can’t miss it.”