Palmetto Rose: a Tipsy Collins Novel by Stephanie Alexander

Author:Stephanie Alexander [Alexander, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647045005
Publisher: Bublish, Inc.
Published: 2022-09-29T13:50:15+00:00

Scott pulled into Tipsy’s driveway as she laid out jars of paint, brushes, and her palette on her front porch. He walked up the steps with a bottle of red wine and a brown paper bag. He wore shorts, flip-flops, and a Nirvana tee-shirt.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

“Hey, handsome.” The scent of ginger wafted from the bag. “That smells good.”

“You smell good.” He kissed her, then brushed her hair away from her neck. He touched one of the healing scratches from her run-in with Catherine. “How are those cuts doing?”

“Getting better.”

She shivered when he ran his finger over her throat. “Stay out of the greenhouse, okay? I keep picturing Audrey Two from Little Shop of Horrors.”

“I’ll try.” Despite feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving out the details, she said, “Sophie spends a lot of time in the greenhouse, but there are sharp objects in there.”

“Darlin’…you have to be careful.”

The endearment induced a pleasant squirm out of her. “I’m fine. I didn’t think you’d notice, but you are a doctor.”

“Doctor notwithstanding, I noticed because I care. About your hurts. Big ones and little ones.”

“You sweet man. I should have covered it with makeup. I don’t want you to worry about silly things.”

“Don’t ever cover anything up with me, Tipsy, literally or figuratively. I want all your things. Big. Little. Silly. Serious. All of it.”

No one had ever said such a thing to her before, and she couldn’t respond. Instead, she swiped at a tear.

“Hey, hey, hey. If that was too much—”

“No. Good lord. Not too much. But sometimes this…you…us. It’s…just...so perfect. It’s terrifying.”

“I understand. I feel the same way.” He hugged her. “And I promise I am not perfect. Stick around long enough and you’ll see.”

She buried her face in his chest. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m being ridiculous.”

“Don’t apologize, okay? We got a lot of food to eat. And you have some painting to do, right?”

“Yes.” She pointed at the palette. “I’ve been mixing paints.”

“I brought a book, so I can sit out here with you, if you want company. I’ll try not to distract you with my annoying questions about your artistic process.”

“Company sounds lovely. I don’t think any man has ever genuinely asked me about my process, so it won’t be annoying. I’ll just have to figure out how to explain it.”

“We have eight more nights until the kids get back. You have plenty of time to explain. That is, if you don’t get sick of having your boyfriend around.”

She kissed his nose. “I will absolutely not get sick of having my boyfriend around.”

“I’ll put the food inside. Bring you a glass of wine—if that won’t infringe on the process?”

“A sip or two won’t hurt at this stage.”

“You got it.”

Boyfriend always seemed like a silly term to me, said Granna as Scott walked into the house. Seems even sillier now.

Don’t start raining on my parade again. I’m already creating my own deluge with all my damn worrying.

Let me be clear, sugar. It’s silly because Scott Brandt is no boy.

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