them.”
“I’m afraid not,” the shopkeeper said apologetically but brightened suddenly. “Actually, these are in bloom in abundance in the hills behind the high school. Do you know where I’m talking about, Tara?”
“Now I remember where I’ve seen these before.” Tara snapped her fingers. “Yeah, I know exactly where you mean.”
Rosie processed Seth’s credit card and returned it to him. “I’m sure you’ll find all the flowers you need there.”
“Thank you so much, Rosie,” he said warmly, and the florist fluttered her lashes.
If Tara didn’t like her so much, she would’ve rolled her eyes, but women had to stick together. I mean, who can resist that smile and twinkling eyes? Other than her, she meant. True, she’d kissed the man a couple times and wanted to climb him right now, but she had successfully resisted jumping into his bed so far. She considered that a huge accomplishment, and a testament to her superhuman willpower.
“Milady,” he said extending the flowers toward her.
“You’re so corny.” But she accepted the bouquet and added, “Thank you, kind sir.”
The speculation in Rosie’s eyes grew more certain, and her smile turned wily. “Should I give you guys some privacy?”
“No, thanks,” Tara couldn’t hold back her eye roll this time. “We have business we need to attend to. Ready to go tramping through the hills, Seth?”
“Just lead the way,” he said enthusiastically.
Waving their goodbyes to Rosie, they got back into his car and headed toward her alma mater. She rarely went by there anymore, but every time she saw her old high school, she had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she’d hated high school with a vengeance. The mindless drilling of required courses and the suppression of individuality—studying something she had no interest in just because someone told her to—were both suffocating and excruciatingly boring. On the other hand, she loved the friendships she’d developed and the different interests she’d been exposed to through them.
But always prevalent and consistent during those awkward teenage years was her overwhelming insecurities when it came to boys. She was invisible to them. Unattractive. Uninteresting. She was a late bloomer, so she had no boobs to speak of until the summer of her senior year. By then, her love life was too abysmal to salvage, as was her self-confidence. And the fact that she was getting attention only because of her breasts pissed her off to high hell. Her insecurities followed her to college. It was no wonder she lost her mind with gratitude when, for the first time in her life, a boy liked her back.
The first taste of love had been as sweet as ambrosia, heady and electrifying. But that was before the feelings of inadequacy and guilt set in. Nothing she did for Jason was enough. As his demands on her grew, so did his disappointment in her. The harder she tried, the more he criticized her … belittled her. By then, love wasn’t warmth and happiness, but anxiety and defeat. She had no plans to make herself go back to that time. She wouldn’t risk falling in love again. With anyone.
“Turn left here,” she shouted, jerking back to the present. She was so lost in her thoughts that they almost passed the small road that led up to the hill.
“Whoa.” With his great reflexes and a responsive sports car, Seth was able to make the turn.
“Sorry about being a lousy navigator,” she said sheepishly.
“No need for that.” He stole a quick glance at her before focusing back on the road. “Okay. Do we just follow this road from here on?”
“Yes.”
And that was what Tara intended to do as well. She would keep walking the path she had been on. The safe road where no love existed. Where no pain existed.
* * *
The field near the edge of the hill was tightly packed with the flowers he’d admired at the florist. The late-morning sun shone softly down on the lavender-colored blossoms, lighting everything to a crisp clarity. Tara stood a few feet away, running her hand over the tall grass.
She’d grown quiet in the car on their way over. Seth had no idea why, but his eyes kept following her, observing her in a rare solemn mood. Her ever-present smirk was smoothed out, and her lips looked wider and fuller. Her sharp, ever-watching eyes seemed faraway, and a single furrow marked the space between her eyebrows. He wanted to smooth it out with words and touch, but he held himself back.
This still and pensive Tara was achingly beautiful. But