“But…”
“Jasper, Ulric, and the hotel gargoyles will be following us overhead, close at hand. If anyone makes a move on you, we’ll be ready. I’ll hold the line while you take to the air. They’ve been staking you out at the house; they won’t be ready for a moving target. I doubt they’d be able to regroup quickly enough to intercept us. Even still, I have an underground route they won’t find. They might follow us for a ways, but they won’t follow us forever. I can get you out of here in safety. This is doable.”
“You need the break,” Mr. Tom said. “You need your wits, and you need your rest. Let Mr. Steele take you for a reprieve.”
I stared into Austin’s cobalt eyes, at a loss. “Okay… But wow, you have your work cut out for you.”
“One thing you must know about me, Jess. I always rise to the challenge.” He smirked and held out the orchid. “I got you a living flower. It’s something to remember me by when I’m not here.” The smirk turned into a mouth-watering smile. “Or, if the date doesn’t go well, you can take the garden shears to it. Vengeance.”
I laughed despite my churning unease about the whole situation, moving forward to take the orchid. “Thanks. It’s gorgeous.”
Mr. Tom reached out for it, but I set it on the little table near the door. “The entranceway needed an orchid.”
“Perfect start,” Austin said softly.
“You do need this outing,” Mr. Tom said, “but be mindful. He’s had forty years of practice at these things.”
Austin’s eyes dulled and flicked to Mr. Tom. He leaned back just a little, his smile faltering.
“Oh now, don’t listen to him.” My mom bustled out of the room, where she’d clearly continued listening at the door. Hopefully she hadn’t heard the whispered part of our conversation. “He wears a cape. His opinion is bound to be suspect.” She smiled at Austin. “My, you sure do clean up nice. Well, shoo, you kids. Shoo, shoo.” She gasped as she shoved me toward the door. “Look at that gorgeous orchid. And the base! Great taste. Did you pick that out all by yourself, Austin?”
“Yes, ma’am. Just struck me as something Jess might like.”
“Well, yes, she does.” My mom opened the front door and motioned Austin out of it. “You should have seen her old house. All the wood looked like she’d picked it up off the side of the street. Trendy, my big toe. Her father kept telling her that he could’ve found all that for free.”
“Shabby chic,” I muttered, pushed out after Austin.
“Stay safe. Don’t worry about us. We won’t wait up.” My mom waved and shut the door behind us.
“Send-off…” I made like I was writing on a tablet. “Less than ideal.”
He paused by the passenger door of the Jeep, the tops and doors still on this early in the season. “Listen.” His expression and tone were both dead serious. “I’ve never tried very hard on dates. I’m always respectful and try to show my date a good time, but I don’t go out of my way. Not ever. For you—for this—I did. I care about you, Jess. I care about our friendship. This isn’t an everyday kind of thing for me. I’m not pulling stuff out of some womanizer playbook to try to schmooze you.” He paused, then added, “I just wanted you to know that. Whatever Earl and Niamh might say about me—those things might usually be true, but they’re not when it comes you, okay? I will protect you in all things, including from myself if need be. I will not do you wrong.”
My heart nearly exploded, and I put out my arms, wrapping them around his neck when he leaned down to hug me.
“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.” I closed my eyes within the strength of his arms. “Send-off back to perfect.”
“Back on track.” He laughed and pulled back. “Before we head out…” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a clump of crushed flowers. With his opposite finger, he spread them out along his palm. “Which do you fancy?”
A few wild daisies lay in a pile on the right side, small and delicate as though plucked out of a field. Buttercups lay next to that, the petals scattered across his hand from the rough treatment. The spread on the far left had a mixture of buttercups and a sort of blue-purple wildflower.
“Like…what do you mean?” I asked hesitantly.
“Group A…” He pointed at the delicate daisies before moving to the middle cluster. “B…and C. Which group would you rather have a bouquet of?”
Saying none would’ve been rude, but honestly, the orchid had been perfect. And plenty. He had something in mind, though, so I just went with it. “This.” I pointed at group C. “The mix.”