“A philo-what?”
I lean back so I can see her face. “The plant you brought. It’s a Philodendron. See the heart-shaped leaves?” I point to one of the less unfortunate-looking leaves, and Amelia’s face lights up.
“I brought you a heart-shaped plant?”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads over my face at the delight in her voice. “You sure did.”
“Well, that’s fitting because I feel very heart eyes over you, El.”
“Same goes, Mystery Girl. Same goes. So, give me the name back story.”
She nods, like she’s taking this very seriously. “Okay, so you told me that you name your plants after famous people born in Boston, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but aside from Barbara over there, your plants are all men.”
I consider this and realize she’s right, but before I can say anything, she barrels on. “And I have to be honest, El, I adore you, but more men is never the answer. So, I gave you Susan, like Susan B. Anthony, one of the most prolific and successful figures of the women’s suffrage movement. She lived most of her life in upstate New York, but she was born in Adams, Massachusetts. I know that’s not Boston, but I felt like allowances could be made for our girl here.”
I swing an arm around her shoulders as we both look at the, frankly, pathetic excuse for a plant. “Ames, I absolutely adore every single inch of you.”
She leans up and plants a kiss on my jaw. “Same goes, my guy. Can you fix her?”
“I can. Someone probably had her in direct sunlight for way too long. She’s basically sunburned. She needs indirect sun, and then I can remove the damaged leaves and stems and re-pot her with new soil. She’ll be good as new.”
“My hero.” Amelia’s tone is full of humor, but the way she snuggles deeper into my side when she says it has me feeling like I want to be that for her. My nature is to be theI can fix it; I’ll handle all the thingsguy. And while I can admit that hasn’t always served me well in the past, I think I could be the one to handle all of Amelia’s things for the rest of my days and be the happiest guy on earth.
“I get to be a hero because I can fix a plant?”
She breaks out of my hold and grins at me. “For that, and also because whatever you’re making for dinner smells amazing, and I’m starving.”
“Forget to eat again today, Mystery Girl?”
“If I say yes, will you get all growly again about how I need to remember to eat?”
“Nah, but I will start doing things like leaving lunch on your desk on the days you’re in my class, and having lunch delivered to the computer lab on the days you’re not.”
She eyes me. “You don’t think that would look suspicious? Me getting special food deliveries every day?”
I shrug. “I’d figure out a way for it not to be. I take care of what’s mine.”
She gives me a sly grin. “Yours?”
I lean in and kiss her, long and slow, until we’re both a little breathless. “Mine,” I say against her lips.
Amelia smiles. “I like being yours. Especially when dinner is involved.”
I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. “How do you feel about chicken tacos?”
She groans, and the sound is a shot straight to my dick. “I feel incredible about chicken tacos. Do they come with a Diet Pepsi? Because I could really use one.”
I reach into the fridge and grab one of the cold cans and a Dr. Pepper for me. “For you, and you only, I keep my fridge stocked with Pepsi. You have no idea how much ribbing I get from my brothers for it.”
“Thank you for your service,” she laughs, and then laughs harder when I hand her the drink in a purple mug that saysMood Readeron it. “You remembered?”
A few weeks ago, Amelia was complaining that she couldn’t decide what to read since the book she, Hannah, and Jo read for book club with my mom gave her a massive book hangover.When I was stupid enough to point out the hundreds of unread books on her shelves and more on her Kindle, she gave me an irritated look and grumbled something about being a mood reader and not being in the mood for anything she already had.
I shrug. “Like I said a while back, I remember everything about you.”
She takes a sip of her drink and leans against the kitchen island. “It’s the perfect mug. What else do you remember?”
I lean down and press a kiss to her neck, right below her ear, smiling against her skin when she gasps. “That you love cinnamon rolls from the diner. Got them for dessert.”
