Up in Flames(35)

He had asked Rush. My brother had probably told him not to tell me he’d given away my special place. Although surely he knew that I would guess it had been him.

Smiling, I opened my car door before the driver could do it for me and climbed out. Coming here felt like coming home. I’d missed it and hadn’t even realized how much. The idea of Rush not coming to join me had been too much, so I’d stayed away.

“Thank you,” I said, glancing back over my shoulder at Major. “This is perfect.” I led the way into the secret haven, and my heart lifted with each step.

“You’re welcome,” Major replied, but I didn’t look back again.

I stepped into the place I knew so well and inhaled the floral scent I remembered, and my princess fantasy came back to me as if it were yesterday. The ache of lost childhood was gone when I was here. This was my happy place.

I noticed a table set for two, complete with a white linen tablecloth and candlelight. We were having dinner here. I’d had many picnics with Rush here in the past and tea parties with my favorite dolls. Rush must have told Major about those. Major had put a lot of thought into this, and my heart melted as I accepted that maybe he was different. That if I was smart, I’d give him another chance.

I watched as Major walked over to one of the chairs and pulled it out, then turned his baby-blue eyes to me. A crooked smile was on his lips, and he was obviously proud of himself for this. I had to admit I was touched and impressed. I’d never had a man go to the lengths he was going to in order to win me back.

“Rush told you about this place,” I said simply.

Major continued to grin and gave me a shrug. “It’s a great spot. Never imagined something like this existed in a beach town.”

“That’s why it’s magical,” I replied, unable to keep from smiling like a silly little girl with a crush.

This made me feel special in a way nothing else ever had. I’d never forget it. Major had just found his way back into my heart.





Major


I didn’t have one fucking clue why this garden had Nan looking at me with stars in her eyes, but I was grateful as hell.

I might hate the bastard, but Cope was one smart son of a bitch. He didn’t half-ass anything. He researched and did things right. For someone so damn cold, he sure knew the right things to do to win a woman. Must be his excessive brains.

“This is my favorite salad . . . and my favorite dressing.” Nan’s pleased tone had me looking up from the bed of walnuts, what looked like questionable cheese, and strawberry slices on my salad. She was beaming at me as she picked up her fork. “You thought of everything.”

Cope had, of course, made sure all her favorites were served tonight, and he had even arranged for a couple of servers to wait on us. This salad looked gross. I wanted cheddar cheese, ham, some boiled egg, bacon bits, and good ol’ Ranch dressing. This shit did not belong on a salad. How was I supposed to eat this?

I began to wonder what other things Nan loved to eat. I hoped to God it got better than this.

“Since we wouldn’t have a menu out here for you to choose from, I wanted to make sure you enjoyed your meal,” I replied, mentally preparing myself to eat the shit on my plate. Who the hell ate strawberries with lettuce? That just seemed wrong. Where were some nice fat croutons when you needed them?

“Thank you. Tonight has been perfect so far. If you bring out olive salad muffuletta bruschetta next, I might be yours for life.”

I was from Texas and had lived near Louisiana most of my life. So I knew what the hell a muffuletta sandwich was. However, I wasn’t sure what bruschetta was, and I was almost afraid to find out. I also didn’t like olives. I didn’t like the way they smelled or tasted. If that was coming out next, I wasn’t sure I would be able to chew and swallow without retching.

As if on cue, the servers appeared with silver trays full of what looked like toast with olive shit on it. Dammit all to hell.

“Ahhhh! I can’t believe you knew this!” Nan squealed and actually clapped her hands as they set the nasty-smelling olive mess on her plate.

The smile I was attempting to keep on my face was falling. Eating that salad had been hard enough. This was going to kill me.

As the server came to my side of the table, he set the same hard toast things on my plate, but mine were topped with ham and cream cheese.

“Because you don’t eat olives, sir,” the server said before turning to leave.

“You don’t eat olives?” Nan asked, studying my plate.

I might have been in love with Cope at that moment. “Uh, no. I don’t,” I replied, with one of my grins that won me women’s phone numbers everywhere. “But I might change my mind after watching you get all excited over them like that.”