Twist of Fate by Louise, Tia (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📗

My cousin started out wanting to be a florist, but not just any florist, mind you. Sly wanted to be the kind that decorates massive floats for parades and floral statues as centerpieces for balls and corporate events.

She did a couple for our high school dances and sporting events, which required hauling and welding scrap metal. It’s why Scout and J.R. were with us in Owen Pepper’s junkyard that day years ago.

“I doubt my aunt said shit.”

“Okay.” He winks. My panties heat. “She didn’t say that exactly, but she told me to come over and help out.”

“Why are you always moving things for my cousin? I thought you were at Clemson.”

His lips curl into a playful grin—the one that leaves a trail of swooning females in his wake. “Trust me, I don’t know how I got roped into this gig. I’m home for a few weeks before I go to LA. Your aunt called my gran and said I needed to come here.”

His grandmother… My aunt’s best friend.

I wonder what those two old biddies are scheming. They can think again, because the last thing I’m doing is staying in Fireside.

“Well, it’s just me here, and I don’t need help moving anything.”

He studies me a beat before turning his attention to Cosmo. “Hey, big guy. Are you helping this grumpy lady out?”

“I am not grumpy.” I cross my arms over my chest, but it’s more of a defensive posture.

He takes a knee on the stairs to scratch the enormous feline around the ears. Cosmo purrs even louder, and I try to remember what I was doing before this sexy stroll down memory lane appeared.

“Why are you still here?” He glances up at me, and it’s a squeeze in my chest.

“I’m not still here. I graduated from USC in December, and I’ve been helping Aunt Regina with this place while I look for a job.”

“I can’t believe it’s been four years.” Blue eyes travel from my cheeks to my hair and around to my lips. “You’re still wearing your hair that way.”

When we were in high school, Sly cut my stick-straight blonde hair into a pixie-bob right at my ears and showed me how to sleep on pin curls at night to give it a little wave. It made my otherwise stringy locks a little more interesting.

“It’s easy.” I shrug, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s cute.” He pushes off the stair and rises to his full six-foot-two height, almost a foot taller than me, then he frowns. “What happened here?”

He touches my arm, and I look down to see the bright red gash across my skinny bicep. “Oh,” I exhale a little laugh. “Hazards of the trade. That rooster got me with his beak.”

“What rooster?”

“This one.” He follows me into the kitchen, where the metal sculpture is positioned behind the table. “I had to carry it in the house from my Bronco. He’s kind of awkward.”

“So, you do need some help.”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well, I can at least doctor your arm. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“It’s really not necessary.” Shaking my head, I look down at the slightly raised scrape. “I’ll wash it in the shower. It’s fine.”

“Never mind, I remember where it is.”

He takes off down the hall towards the half bath, and I chew my lip as I watch his tight, perfectly square ass move in those jeans. How is it possible for one man to be so fine?

The noise of cabinets opening and closing precedes his calling out, “Found it!”

Returning to the kitchen, he guides me to the chair to sit while he takes out a small tube of Neosporin and a long gauze pad. His nails are neatly trimmed, and I can’t help noticing his fingers are slim and elegant. I guess it’s why he’s so good at catching the football all the time.

Every touch is a little sizzle of electricity. His brow furrows as he smears ointment on the scratch then covers it with gauze, taping the sides loosely.

He smells like he always did—citrusy soap, fresh linen, spicy man. His cheekbones are like flint, and I remember the time I considered sneaking a photo of him on the chance it would be really valuable one day. I still think it might.

“That isn’t going to stay on my arm.” I look down at the gauze barely hanging onto my skin.

“It’ll protect it while the medicine soaks in. The antibiotic will kill any germs.”

“You’re pretty good at this.”

He blinks up at me, and when our eyes meet, it tightens my core. “I’ve had my share of injuries.”

It’s an odd confession, but I let it go. I can’t imagine Scout Dunne has ever been hurt in his life.

“Well…” I exhale, slapping my palms against my thighs as I stand. “It’s good to see you again. I was just about to head up and take a shower.”

He stands and slides his hands into his back pockets, stretching that tee so nicely across his chest. “You going to be around for a few days? Maybe we can get together or something.”

I’m momentarily startled. Is he asking me out? Do I want that?

Focus, Daisy.

“Ah… I’ve got to finish up this job. Then I’m hoping to get on with Antiques Today.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s this company that has like a magazine and a podcast and they do like antiques shows and appraisals.” I realize I sound like a total amateur right now. “I have a friend who works with them. I’m hoping he can help me get a job.”

Scout’s chin lifts, and he studies me a moment. The way his blue eyes move around my face is distinctly different from how it feels when Spencer does it.

When Scout looks at me with that mixture of curiosity and interest, every hair on my body rises. Heat sparkles beneath my skin.

Which is ridiculous. I have no chance with someone like him, and even if there was the remotest possibility I did, I’m not staying here to find out. Neither is