No. She didn’t.
He tossed his phone on the counter and crossed to the trash. On top of everything lay the flower. He had to pick a new one this morning, since the bloom from yesterday had wilted before Libby saw it, but this one was starting to wilt, too, and looked sad and pathetic on its bed of crumpled paper towels. He plucked it out with two fingers. Talk about kicking a guy when he was down. He started to toss it away again but stopped short and scowled at his refection in the patio doors.
Was he really just going to give up? Libby had spurned his advances nine years ago when he first saw her having lunch at that restaurant in Quantico with her father. If he’d given up back then… Well, they wouldn’t be in the awkward position they were in now, with broken hearts and wounded prides. But there had been so many good times before the bad, and he wouldn’t trade those precious memories for anything.
So, no, he decided and placed the flower on top of the trash can, accepting her challenge. Forget that crap defeatist attitude. He’d just have to keep trying.
Chapter Eleven
Another flower.
This time, he’d stuck it in the fridge. Getting more creative, Libby thought with a half laugh. Now he was making her seek them out like an Easter egg hunt. Every night she told herself she wouldn’t play along again, and yet every morning, she couldn’t help but peek into cupboards and other hidey-holes…discreetly, of course. At least until he went out for his swim. Then she turned the house upside down, searching. No way would she let him know that she actively sought out the flowers or that a little thrill went through her every time she found one.
Today’s pick was a beautiful bluish-purple, the blossom as big as her fist. She pulled it out of the fridge and underneath it…
“Oh my God.”
Her book! The one she’d dropped in the pool when the iguana paid them that unwelcome visit. Here it sat between the milk and a pitcher of ice tea, a brand new copy, the dust jacket all shiny and clean. Where had he gotten it? He hadn’t left the house…except for the three times he ran out to the front gate and impatiently checked the mail yesterday.
Sneaky man.
She picked up the book, let the fridge door fall shut, and ran her fingers over the cover. This, she hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t an insightful or thoughtful man. How had he known that once the burn of embarrassment and fear over the iguana ordeal wore off, she most regretted the loss of her book?
Libby set the book aside and turned her attention to the flower. It was so hard to stay annoyed at him when he pulled stunts like this. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she drifted over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden and tried to spot the plant it had come from. She had to give him credit for his stubborn perseverance. Any other man would have given up on this game by now.
After one last indulgent sniff of its petals, she smiled and tossed the flower in the trash. But the book…that she would keep. No sense in letting a good book go to waste, even if it was to prove her point.
Although, to be honest, she couldn’t quite remember what exactly her initial point had been.
…
Jude watched through the window as Libby searched for and found his gifts in the fridge. She picked up the flower and buried her nose in its fragrant petals. For a second, just a sliver of time as she stood there, highlighted by a sunbeam with the flower in her hand and a secret smile curving her lips, hope had buzzed through his head and quickened his pulse.
Maybe this time…
But, no. She turned away from the window, stepped on the pedal of the trash can to open the lid, and tossed the flower just like all the others.
“Fuck.” Jude shook his head and let himself have a moment to sulk. She had to be the most unromantically inclined woman ever. What was it going to take to get by all of her defenses?
But then he noticed her pick up the book he’d asked Camden to buy and overnight to him with Seth’s name on the box. He’d had a helluva time talking his brother into it, but the way she hugged that book to her chest made it worth the fight. Hot damn. She was finally keeping something he’d given her. Why that made him want to dance, he didn’t know, but he indulged in the urge and executed a tap-tap-slide around the pool that would have had his mother beaming with pride.
“Nice moves, Slick.”
He spun and grinned at Libby. “Yeah?”
She smiled as she walked out onto the patio. “Seriously, I’m impressed. You can really dance. I never knew that about you.”
“Yeah, well, Mom was a dance instructor.” Two swaying steps put him close enough to snatch her into his arms and swing her around to the faint strings of guitar music coming from the beach a block away. “She made all five of us take lessons, always said a real man knew his way around a dance floor.”
“And you lived through high school?”
“Yeah. I even made it cool.”