Page 19 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

HOLLY

T he night air was cooler than Holly expected as she sat on Gianna’s deck.

The space wasn’t huge. But it was big enough for four lounge chairs arranged in a semi-circle near the railing, a small glass table in the center where a half-empty bottle of wine was shoved off to the side.

A potted rosemary plant sat by the steps, next to what Holly was pretty sure used to be a basil plant but hadn’t survived Gianna’s moderately green thumb.

Overhead, the stars were scattered with bits of cloud covering up some while they left others exposed.

Holly had a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

It was peaceful, even if she felt like a mess inside.

She wasn’t exactly relaxed, but she wasn’t tense either.

It was more like floating somewhere in between.

In limbo. Holly was certain that things between her and Gianna were okay.

Just okay. They had talked—enough to settle back into something familiar, even if Holly wasn’t so sure what that looked like anymore—but there was still a lot left unsaid.

Things they would have to talk about eventually.

Things Holly would first have to accept about herself before she could even think about saying them out loud.

But they weren’t doing any of that right now.

Instead, they were just sitting in silence, eating bacon and avocado pizza, drinking a rather fancy bottle of red wine Gianna had conjured up from the pantry as if nothing about today had been strange at all.

Holly glanced over at the far end of the garden where a tree was decked out in fairy lights. To its left was freshly turned ground. “Is that where you plan on planting the California lilacs.”

Gianna looked over, following Holly’s gaze, and then shrugged. “Maybe. Still undecided. But I think they would be nice there.”

“They would,” Holly said. “But I think there might be too much shade for them that close to the tree. Lilacs thrive in full sun. They can probably tolerate a bit of afternoon shade, but not too much of it.”

The surprise on Gianna’s face nearly made Holly laugh. It did, however, turn the smile on her face into a grin.

“My mom’s a botanist, remember,” Holly said.

Her whole childhood had been filled with conversations about soil acidity, best pruning techniques, and of course, the correct way to identify native versus invasive species.

The thought of her mother knowing she’d slept with a woman—though she hoped it would never, ever come up and might even lean that way entirely, or at the very least, not be as straight as she’d always assumed—made Holly cringe inwardly.

Unfortunately, her mother, Magda, as sweet and loving as she was, was also a homophobe.

Holly could remember on several occasions the way her mother’s tongue clicked whenever the topic of queerness came up, the thinly veiled disapproval wrapped up in words like it’s just a phase and that’s not natural .

Holly pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the moment.

This moment.

“I can tell you the difference between a sugar maple and a red maple just by looking at the leaves,” Holly went on, placing her now empty wine glass on the table. “And the ideal pH for growing blueberries and the number one reason people kill their houseplants.”

“That’s impressive.”

“But that’s pretty much all I can tell you.”

Gianna laughed. A sound so pleasant Holly felt a rush of warmth burst through her chest. She picked up another slice of pizza and took a big mouthful just as silence settled between them again.

It was nice. Just a quiet moment filled with the gentle rustle of leaves, the soft glow of fairy lights, and the distant hum of the city beyond Gianna’s backyard.

A moment where Holly didn’t have to think too hard about the things they weren’t saying.

But then Gianna turned in her seat, the lounge chair creaking under her weight. “Who was that guy in the parking lot earlier?”

Holly frowned, trying to pinpoint what Gianna was referring to.

So much had happened over the last hour that everything before that felt like a different lifetime.

But then the memory hit her all at once; Greg, standing by her car, slouching from all that time spent behind a computer, his messy hair in desperate need of a trim.

He had been wearing one of those stretched-out dad T-shirts that Holly was fairly certain had a bit of Josie’s spit-up on the shoulder.

“Greg,” she said right before taking a bite of pizza. “My cousin’s husband. He surprised me after work with—” she waved a hand vaguely, “himself, I guess. Probably because I told Clara I hadn’t seen him in forever and that I was pissed off at him because of it.”

“Are you two close?”

“He was my best friend growing up,” Holly said, licking a bit of tomato sauce off her thumb. “I’m the reason he and Clara are even married. My mom says I basically pushed the two of them into a relationship, but I think the universe was always going to make it happen anyway.”

“I didn’t know you believed in the universe and all that.” Gianna’s voice was light, more airy. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was real, but Holly saw the tiniest bit of relief in her face.

She shrugged. “My work is so life and death, science and statistics. Sometimes I need to believe that things are out of my hands. I’m sure you get it.

” Holly brought up her legs, folding them beneath her.

“I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought,” she added, smiling at Gianna, and then immediately regretted it.

Because somehow, the way she said it, the way she was smiling, made it seem like she was flirting.

Which she absolutely was not.

Especially not after everything that had happened earlier. Especially not after she’d caught Gianna in the middle of a panic attack.

Or maybe she was.

Gianna turned in her seat, her dark eyes flickering toward Holly with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“I guess I don’t.” But that look thankfully disappeared when Gianna turned her attention to her wine glass and took a sip.

“I actually did try to plant something there when I first moved in here a few months ago. I thought I’d get into gardening and went to a nursery to pick out some plants.

No research. No green thumb. Turns out, ferns and hydrangeas don’t do well when you forget to water them for weeks at a time. ”

Holly huffed out a laugh. “You don’t say.”

“Yup,” Gianna said, swirling her wine. “The woman at the nursery suggested hostas instead. She said they’re resilient and especially hardy.

Sounded more like she was insulting me and so, of course, I bought a whole bunch of ferns, then drove to another nursery, and got a ton of hostas out of spite.

Planted them all. Ignored them all for a month.

The hostas survived. I wrote a Google review thanking the woman for her advice. ”

Holly shook her head, grinning. “Fuck, that’s hot,” she said, joking, or maybe she wasn’t joking, but as soon as the words were out, she wished she could reel them back in. Because as soon as they landed, everything changed. The air between them changed.

Holly’s breath was suddenly snatched by the tension pressing into her ribs, stealing the space between her lungs, making her whole body hyper-aware of the way Gianna was looking at her now. That smile was gone and was instead replaced by something deeper.

Gianna set her wine glass down slowly, her fingers trailing against the rim before she turned fully toward Holly. “Is that so?”

Holly swallowed hard even though it made no difference to the lump in her throat.

Or to her heart thudding relentlessly against her ribs.

She was not drunk. One glass of wine was nothing.

But the way her head was spinning, it felt like she should be.

Except that feeling had nothing to do with alcohol.

“You’re hot,” Holly whispered, her voice so soft she wondered if she’d imagined saying it. “And you make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.” It was the truth. She just never expected herself to say it out loud.

“Do I really?” Gianna asked, reaching out.

The tips of her fingers brushed lightly over Holly’s knee.

A touch so soft, so subtle, that if Holly moved even the slightest bit, it would be gone.

So, she didn’t move. She stayed still. Wondering what was going to happen, if she wanted it to happen.

Not that the answer was simple. Or maybe it was.

“Tell me to stop,” Gianna murmured, shifting closer in her chair, her gaze flickering from Holly’s mouth to her eyes. “I won’t mind.”

Holly didn’t.

And then Gianna kissed her.

Holly gasped softly against her lips, but then she was kissing her back, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair before sliding up, into Gianna’s silky hair, pulling her closer. She parted Gianna’s lips with her tongue and tasted wine and pizza and something sweet.

Gianna’s hand skimmed along her thigh, her nails dragging lightly against the denim until Holly felt like she was unraveling, breaking apart, and coming back together all at once. It should have scared her.

But it didn’t.

She wanted it. Needed it.

Holly wasn’t sure how they ended up shifting, but suddenly Gianna was standing, pulling her up with her.

The chemistry was too overpowering to pull away from.

Gianna’s hands found her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingertips pressing against bare skin.

Holly shivered. But she didn’t pull away.

She didn’t overthink it for once in her life.

Instead, she let Gianna guide her backward, into the house, past the kitchen, past the dimly lit hallway until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.