Poinsettia Lane

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

EVERLY WOULD GIVE up her entire book collection for the ability to fast forward approximately twenty-four hours. She’d skip straight past the extravagant annual holiday party where her parents' old friends put on airs as they gather at her house. Much to her disappointment, time is an immovable construct, so the holiday party is unavoidable. She’ll be forced to hear constant condolences and well wishes and “if only they were here to see this” while attempting to impress a bunch of people she doesn’t like, or really even know.

Ladies and gents, the Moore Winter Holiday Gala, AKA the annual bane of Everly’s existence and fuel to her crippling anxiety.

Everly’s parents started the annual event well over 30 years ago, before either her or her sister were born, and when they passed, their friends expected Everly to continue to host it in their place. So she does.

Although she hates it, Everly tells herself that it’s good for her to mingle and keep in touch with them. It keeps her parents closer, and it’s respectful to their memories. Even if it does destroy her mental health for a couple of weeks every December.

Her night was spent tossing and turning, with visions of toppling Christmas trees, rotted hors d’oeuvres, and flat champagne. There was even one nightmare in which everyone was dressed only in their underwear. Realistically, Everly knows none of that will happen, but you try telling that to her other self, Anxious Everly. Anxious Everly is having a really hard time believing this will work out, and Anxious Everly gets very catastrophic when she hasn’t had enough sleep.

Here we go again.

Everly takes a few moments to practice her breathing exercises, mainly so she doesn’t feel like she’s letting her therapist down, and then decides to do one last sweep through the lower level of the house to clear it of any debris or personal items. This task somehow ends up with her re-organizing the coat closet off the front foyer—entirely unnecessary—followed by folding the ends of the toilet paper in each of the restrooms like they do in her hotel.

“Maybe I need a pet,” she mutters, stifling a yawn with her elbow, then startling when her phone buzzes across the floor next to her. “Frankie” flashes across the screen and Everly swipes to accept the video call from her best and only friend, only for them to cackle when they see Everly slumped on the cold bathroom floor in her robe and slippers, her hair up in a messy bun. Everly blinks in consternation at the situation she’s found herself in as Frankie grins, sweeping their curly brown hair out of their eyes and squinting at her through the phone screen.

“What are we up to?” they ask.

“Heck if I know.” Everly throws her hands in the air, lost.

Frankie nods, a sympathetic look on their face.

“Mhmm. Coffee first,” Frankie says, circling their hand at Everly to encourage her to get up from the bathroom floor, then holding up their full mug in cheers when she does so.

Everly huffs as she shuffles into the kitchen, both grateful for her friend checking in on her and annoyed she let her anxiety get the best of her already. She’s always envied Frankie’s solid sense of self; they’ve known who they are and how they identify from a young age and have fully embraced it.

Everly starts the coffee, then returns her attention to her phone where Frankie is eyeing her expectantly.

“What?” Everly asks.

“I know you have a list,” Frankie says. “Let’s hear it.”

Before she can pick it up, the doorbell rings.

~~ ~

“One, sec,” Everly says, setting her phone and coffee on the console table in the foyer on her way to the front door.

Everly is so caught up in her own head about what she needs to do in the next couple hours that she doesn’t check who is at the door before flicking the lock. As soon as she swings the heavy wooden door open, she immediately slams it shut again and whirls around, pressing her back to the door.

“Who is it?” Frankie yells from the video call.

“I don’t know, some guy,” Everly calls back. A really hot guy. All she caught was a glimpse of rich, golden-bronze skin, dark scruff, and strikingly light eyes, but it was enough to startle her right out of her senses. Why is there a hot guy on her porch? And why is she still wearing her robe, and slippers, and is her hair in a wet, disheveled bun?! God, she’s a mess. Why does she always feel like such a mess?

From the other side of the door, a deep voice with an accent she can’t quite place says, “This is 2574 Poinsettia Lane, right? I’m delivering the potted poinsettias and tree, from Magnolia? Magnolia Nursery.”

Everly is pretty sure her eyes can’t get any wider, and a nervous sweat is starting to bead on her brow. Did she just slam the door in the face of some poor delivery guy? Seriously, there must be something wrong with her. She tries to fix her hair as best she can, while also noting she doesn’t have on a lick of makeup, then realizes it feels early still. Like, really early.

She quickly checks the time, noting that it’s not even mid-morning yet. Did she not confirm the delivery time? She swears she had everything ready and planned down to the second. Turning around, Everly straightens her pink robe, pastes what she is sure is the fakest of fake smiles onto her face, and slowly twists the handle, opening the door.

“Hi, sorry about that, you startled me. Um, yes, the flowers and the tree, right this way and I’ll show you where they need to go.”

As she resists the urge to flee and shows Hot Delivery Guy through the empty foyer into the main entertaining room, he brings a whiff of fresh pine and earth inside with him. Nervous energy compels her to flutter her fingers around her hair and fidget with her robe. What must he think of her, answering the door in a short robe and damp hair? She should start putting a dollar aside for charity every time she embarrasses herself.

“So you want everything in here?” he asks, gesturing to the space around them.

“Oh, well most of it, yes. The tree definitely, but I’d like some of the poinsettias back out here in the foyer as well, and maybe even a couple outside on the steps? What do you think?” Why is she asking his opinion? This is her party, she doesn’t need anyone else’s approval on where the flowers go.

She mentally drops another dollar into the jar.

Smiling kindly, he replies “That will look really nice. I’ll start unloading the truck. I’m Asim, by the way.” He stretches the vowels and rolls his r’s when he talks, and she gets hooked on how he says “the”—it sounds more like “zhe”, which she decides is her new favorite pronunciation of any word, ever.

“Ah-simm,” she tries out his name on her lips, pronouncing it slowly to ensure she has it right and flushing when his lips quirk at her in response. “Nice to meet you, I’m Everly.”

Asim strides back outside and pulls up the back door of his delivery truck, while Everly spins around and sees her phone is still lit up with the video call. She grabs it, meeting Frankie’s eyes that are just as wide as hers. Looking her up and down, Frankie presses their lips together in what may be an attempt not to laugh, but Everly chooses to take it as a look of commiseration at her unfortunate first impression with Hot Delivery Guy, Asim.

“Soooo,” Frankie says, eyeing her. When Everly doesn’t reply, they waggle their eyebrows and continue. “Based on the please-kiss-me look you’ve got going on, I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s hot and you’re already smitten?”

“Oh my god, shut up! He’ll be back in here any second.” Everly whisper-scolds her friend. Unbelievable. “ Why are you even still here? I’ll call you back.”

Everly doesn’t wait for a reply and ends the call before Frankie can protest.

Just as she attempts to escape up the stairs to her bedroom, Asim comes back in with a massive tree trunk propped on his shoulder and the rest of the pine tree tied up and trailing behind him. Is this guy also a lumberjack? That tree is enormous, and she can’t help but imagine the muscles he must have under his shirt, not to mention his thighs in those jeans look like tree trunks themselves. Who even wears jeans that fitted? Especially to do manual labor.

“Everly?” she hears, and it is clearly not the first time he’s called her name. She looks up to see his head tilted toward her, the hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah?” comes out of her mouth, breathy and soft, before her eyes go wide again. Great one, Everly. Bedroom voice. You’re really making this first impression even better.

Thankfully, he doesn’t call her out on it.

“You mentioned you want the tree in the other room. I’ll get it set up first and then sweep all the needles out before I bring in the poinsettias so you don’t have to clean around them. Where would you like it?”

“Oh.” She turns and heads back into the front room with him. “If you could set it up at the far end over there, in the left corner away from the windows.”

“Sure thing.”

Just as she turns to make her second escape attempt, he calls out to her again.

“If you don’t mind, why don’t you walk me through the setup of this room while I get the tree situated. What are you imagining and what will go where? That will help me arrange the poinsettias to your liking.” His voice is so enticing; somehow commanding and measured all at once. Her fingers itch to reach out and touch him. She wants to see if his sun-kissed skin is as warm as it looks, and if his arms are as unyielding under her touch as they appear to be when hauling around the pine tree.

“Right, yes that makes sense.” Everly fists her hands in the hem of her robe. So much for changing into something more appropriate. She’ll just have to make do and ensure her robe stays securely closed.

She describes the layout of the room; pointing out where the dessert table will be, then walking around the area that will encompass a number of standing tables by the windows, and lastly gesturing to the furniture up against the back wall which will form a more relaxed sitting area. He nods along with her and asks a couple questions, offering to move the furniture into position for her as well so he can place the flowers accordingly.

Everly thinks she would have to be out of her mind to decline another opportunity to see those muscular arms in action. Although she’s not religious, she still turns her eyes skyward with a breath of thanks and a plea for willpower when he shrugs off his outer layer, revealing a tight gray t-shirt beneath that shows off his biceps in a manner that feels deliciously obscene. Everly now realizes why women in historical romances are always described as fanning themselves; she feels hot and flushed all over and could certainly use a brisk fanning.

She snaps her head around at his low chuckle, realizing she was pointedly looking up over her shoulder in an attempt to avoid ogling him, and he definitely noticed. Wide eyes meeting his, Everly clears her throat and walks over to the sitting area, intent on getting some space and sitting down for a moment, having completely forgotten they had just been talking about moving the furniture. Halfway down to sitting, he speaks again, and she freezes.

“While I’m sure you wouldn’t add a significant weight to those love seats, they would undoubtedly be easier to move without you sitting on them.” Seeing his sexy little smirk, she tips her chin up. He wants to tease? Fine, she can play this game too.

She chooses to complete her poorly timed journey, and primly sits herself down on the edge of the forest green velvet cushion.

“While I’m sure your monster arms would have no trouble moving either me or the chaise lounge, I have not yet decided how I want them to be placed.”

There, she thinks, patting the flyaways along the sides of her face. That will show him who is in charge here. His eyes flick down to her long, bare legs where the robe has ridden up her thighs.

Everly does not expect the soul stopping smile that breaks out on his face in response to her admittedly snooty reply. She’s never met someone so expressive. Those full lips give off an almost boyish grin, but the stubble surrounding them is all masculine. It heats her to her core and blanks out her mind.

“My monster arms, huh.” His twinkling eyes scorch into her skin as Everly tries to maintain her composure. “We could test that theory, but I’m willing to bet they would have no trouble at all moving you wherever I desired you to be.” His voice has lowered slightly, and he takes measured, confident steps toward her.

The breath sticks in her lungs and Everly does her best to hold her legs steady as she rises, pulling her robe back into place around her as she does so. He pauses a few inches in front of her, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers, and she can’t quite decide what she wants to happen next. Is he going to kiss her? No, that would be absurd, he’s working and she is a complete mess, they literally just met, and there’s no way he is having the same thoughts as her right now. She reads too many romance novels, obviously. But what did he mean by that, if not what she thinks?

Asim raises both hands toward her, but he pauses halfway, affording Everly time to move on her own if she doesn’t want to be touched. So much more gently than she expected, he places his hands on her upper arms and shifts her to the side. His thumbs brush back and forth over her robe before he lets go and steps back from her. She feels like a fish, snagged on his hook with her mouth gaping, unable to even look away.

“Alright then, where are we putting this lovely chaise?” he asks, emphasizing her previous word choice, though from the sparkle in his eye she doesn’t think he’s teasing her in a mean way.

Everly mentally pinches herself, then sucks in a breath as she strides back into the center of the room, eyeballing how she wants the sitting area to be set up and directing him on where to place the various pieces of furniture.

To her surprise, when Asim has the furniture fully arranged to her liking, he gestures for her to sit back down where she was before. Everly gives him a questioning glance before moving toward his outstretched hand.

“Have a seat,” he tells her. “Make sure you like how everything else gets set up from this area, since you’ve already surveyed the others.”

Shaking her head at the strangely considerate request and with a hidden smile on her face, Everly takes his hand and nearly melts at the warmth in the contact. Her surprised gaze flits up to his, and for a moment he looks just as stunned as her before she darts her eyes away again. Asim leads her over to the couch, where she attempts to gracefully sit back down.

Unfortunately, her version of “graceful” is not very, as she is immediately distracted by the powerful thigh in her very close peripheral vision, which in combination with his earthy scent engulfing her, results in only one butt cheek making it on the cushion and the rest of her nearly collapsing to the floor. Her saving grace is that massive hand encompassing hers, which prevents her from entirely losing her robe, all sense of modesty, and the little self respect she has left at this point.

“Oh my god, I am an absolute mess!” she says to herself, an embarrassed, breathy laugh accompanying the statement, not realizing this exclamation also came out loud enough for him to hear.

“I quite like it,” is his soft reply. “If you think you’re safely settled, I’ll go grab the rest of the flowers,” he says with a quick wink as he turns away and strides toward the front door.

Everly doesn’t move a muscle while he’s gone, too afraid to break this spell. When he finishes placing the bright red and burgundy flowers around the room, he steps back with a different sort of smile on his face. One that conveys a sense of satisfaction, maybe even pride.

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes roaming over her and the poinsettias splayed around her in the sitting area. She’s too afraid to ask if he’s talking about her or the flowers, but her hopeful little romantic heart pitter patters all the same. Add to the swoop in her stomach the fact that her anxiety has started to creep back up on her, and she’s torn between wanting him to leave so she can decompress, and hoping he has more to do so he stays a bit longer. Her uncertainty causes her to second guess everything, unsure how to act or what to say in this situation.

“Well, I think that’s it. Do you want to take a last look around, let me know if you want anything else moved before I head out?” he asks.

So that decides it for her, then.

Everly pulls herself to standing, wishing he had offered her a hand again, if only so she can see if that fiery touch was a one time thing. It must have been a fluke, or she imagined it. Maybe his hands were just really hot from the hard work?

Taking a moment to look around, a smile creeps onto Everly’s face. It really is a beautiful start to her decorating plans. Now she just needs to add the fresh pine branches laced with bright red holly berries, and string lights so everything glows. She checks the foyer, then follows him out to the front porch and down the steps to look back at it from the driveway as well.

Everly nods, “It really looks good. Thank you so much for delivering everything and helping me get it all arranged.” she says, looking up at him with a genuine smile on her face. When was the last time she felt such a real smile, and one that came this easily?

“You’re very welcome, Miss Moore,” he replies, before giving her a polite nod and turning back to his truck. She takes a moment to admire him one last time as he opens the delivery truck door and steps up into the cab. As he pulls around the turn in the drive, Asim rolls the window down and props his forearm on it, and well, now she knows one more thing she likes about him.

“Take care,” he says as he drives off, raising his hand once in a quick farewell.