Amongst The Wildflowers (Fleurs d'Amour Book 3) Read online

  Amongst The WildFlowers

  Amali Rose

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © Amali Rose 2018

  Amongst The Wildflowers

  Editing: Ellie McLove - My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreading: Stacey Broadbent & Petrina Jenkins - Spell Bound

  Formatting: Kylie Sharp - Indigo Assisting

  Cover Art by: Judi Perkins - Concierge Literary Designs & Photography

  Cover Photo: Shutterstock

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning:

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI, and is punishable by up to five years in prison, and a fine of $250,000.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the people who constantly strive to build others up and inspire.

  You make the world a much nicer place to exist.

  “In a world where you can be anything, be kind.”

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Find me here:

  Excerpt

  OTHER TITLES

  SNEAK PEAK

  Prologue

  Layla

  My legs are on fire and my lungs about to burst, but I push myself forward, distancing myself from the words. Those words. The hate they throw at me, making me want to curl up and disappear.

  Arms pumping, I burst into the field behind my home and immediately fall in a heap amongst the beauty of the wildflowers, shoulders shaking as I purge the bitterness rioting through my body.

  Seconds pass unknowingly and with each beat of my heart, the sobs wrack my body. His approach goes unseen, but I hear the rustle of flowers as he takes his place on the hard ground next to me.

  Wordlessly, his pinkie finger wraps around my own and a calmness envelops me. Oblivious to time, we lie there, and I allow his steady breath to soothe me, the way his presence always does.

  What could be minutes, or hours later, he stands, unfolding his lanky frame and reaches out for me. Without hesitation I take hold, his warm, strong grasp filling me with strength.

  He’s got me. He’s always got me.

  Layla

  My eyes wander around the library, taking in the quiet serenity that I love so much. There is nothing in this world that beats the atmosphere of a library. The sense of peace, the smell of books and the power of knowledge held within these walls. It all combines to create a heady sense of intoxication. Casting another glance around, this time I notice a small group of girls whispering and giggling as they play around on their phones, ignoring the work scattered around in front of them.

  Okay, well, it’s possible it’s just me that feels so strongly about them.

  Sighing, my hand unconsciously finds my glasses and pushes them up the bridge of my nose before I check my phone for the eighteenth time in the last thirty minutes. The paper I’m supposed to be writing sits pointlessly on the table in front of me while I wonder where Evie could be.

  Realizing my next class begins in twenty minutes and I need to get going, I close my textbooks and begin to pack away my things, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth the entire time. It’s not like Evie to stand me up.

  Just as I slide the last of my things into my backpack, Evie comes barreling through the aisles toward me, huffing and puffing and garnering plenty of dirty looks on her way.

  As always, I’m struck by her easy dismissal of other people’s opinions. She is oblivious to the hostility she’s receiving, her focus on me never wavering. I, on the other hand, can feel my face flush as her entrance throws unwanted attention my way.

  “I know, I know, I know! I’m sorry, but I have a good reason, I swear!”

  My eyes trail down her body, taking in her frazzled appearance. Her brown hair is pulled up in a purposefully messy bun, but it has come loose at some point and a few long tendrils are stuck to her red, sweaty face. But what immediately grabs my attention is a large red stain spread across her white t-shirt that causes me to feel slightly faint.

  “Is that blood?” I can’t disguise the disgust in my voice and despite my light-headedness growing worse at just the idea of a bloody wound on her abdomen, I begin planning our trip to the emergency room. What if I have to look at it? My eyes widen in horror at the thought and I plop my butt on the chair closest to me, sucking in air.

  “What?” Her voice is curious as she looks down at herself and her fingers go straight to the stain, her face scrunching up in annoyance. Turning back to face me, she laughs loudly at my hunched-over-almost-hyperventilating form.

  “Oh my God, relax, it’s just ketchup.” Evie gives me a look that is far too judgmental, in my opinion, as I process this information and feel my body return to normal.

  “Lay, you do realize that you’re going to be a grade school teacher, right? A teacher to tiny little germ-infested humans, who are pretty much constantly covered in some kind of bodily fluid?”

  I hold my hand up to stop her as my stomach starts to drop again, but she’s on a roll.

  “Blood, snot, spew… oh my God, poop! You’ll totally have to deal with poop at some stage! How are you going to cope?”

  “You know, you’re not helping my situation right now.” I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “I mean, yeah, I’m not great with blood, but really? It’s not like all of that will be a daily occurrence, right? I’m going to be a teacher, not a nurse.”

  “Whatever.” She shrugs. “All I know is I used to babysit a six-year-old, and he was always covered in something disgusting. Kids are kind of gross, Lay. You need to be prepared for that shit.” She laughs loudly. “Metaphorically and literally!”

  Taking hold of my hand, she drags me along, pulling me toward the exit. “C’mon, we need to haul ass or we’re going to be late to art history.”

  I blink against the muted sunlight as we leave the library and head toward the arts building across the quad. Fallen leaves crunch under our feet and the crispness of the air reminds me autumn is here and leaves me craving a pumpkin-spiced latte. Those things are the bomb diggity, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

  I link my arm through Evie’s as we stroll across campus in a much more leisurely fashion than we should.
Normally, I would be racing, but our art history professor, Professor Sims, is notorious for being late to class.

  “So, why were you late and why do you have that God-awful stain on your shirt?”

  “Oh! I was running late because Jessie caught me after psych and wanted to borrow my notes from a class she missed. Then I needed to grab something from the food court, because I was starving, and this uber hottie crashed into me and smooshed his hot dog against me!” Leaning her head against mine, she waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Unfortunately, I’m not speaking literally, ‘cause dude was hot and I would be more than happy to acquaint myself with his hot dog, if you get my meaning.”

  I giggle at her lame innuendo. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re as subtle as you think you are.”

  “Aw, sugar plum, I can do graphic if that’s what you prefer.”

  “I’m good, but thanks anyway,” I answer wryly.

  Evie straightens suddenly, nudging my shoulder. “Speaking of doable hot dogs, look who’s over there.”

  I follow her gaze and spot Michael Bradshaw lounging on the grass with a group of fellow football players. My breath catches in my throat, and when I notice his head start to turn my way, I immediately avert my eyes and duck my head down.

  My crush on Michael is ridiculous; I’m the first to admit this. He’s the star quarterback, most popular guy on campus, and if rumors are to be believed, he is also a total manwhore. Which is exactly why he’s not for me, and I shouldn’t be making gooey heart eyes at him across the quad.

  But he’s also the first guy to make my girly senses tingle since… well, let’s not go there. Suffice to say, he’s the unicorn I didn’t think existed, which is why I don’t beat myself up too much when my eyes seek him out anytime he’s within a five-mile radius. There’s no harm in dreaming, right?

  “When are you going to talk to him, already? You two would make such a cute couple.” Evie’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I barely control the snort that wants to escape in response to that little gem.

  “Yeah, the hot quarterback and the chubby, plain, nerdy girl. It’s a match made in heaven, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, I’m going to ignore the chubby, plain remark, because you’re stubborn as hell, and frankly I’m tired of telling you you’re sexy as fuck. But the hot quarterback and the nerd is a match made in heaven. Hell, I can name at least ten books off the top of my head, that proves that point.”

  I use every ounce of my self-control to keep my eyes from rolling. “In books Evie, not real life. In real life, the hot quarterback dates the hot cheerleader.” I pause as I consider this. “Or he sluts around with any hot chick that will spread her legs for him. And both are perfectly valid life choices. More power to them. But nowhere do I fit in that story, and that’s okay. I’m perfectly content to ogle all that pretty from afar.”

  “Whatever, liar. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Fortunately, we reach the arts building and Evie lets the subject drop as we make our way into the lecture hall. The class is filling up already and the noise of raucous voices and laughter echoes around us as we take our seats at the back of the auditorium, near the door. Art History is my last class of the day, and considering it’s Friday, I’m eager to make a quick exit when it’s all done.

  “Hey, you want to go out for a drink tonight? It’s two-dollar shot night at Hound Dog.” She eyes me beseechingly as I consider her offer. I have an English paper I really need to work on, but I really could do with a night out. Between my work at Books & Beans and preparing for the school year, it’s been way too long since I had a bit of fun.

  “Why not?”

  Evie grasps my hands, her face alight with excitement. “Oh, thank God! I thought I was going to have to start bribing you with donut holes to get you out of the dorm room, and my wallet really can’t handle that kind of pressure.”

  “Jeez, exaggerate much? I haven’t been that bad.” My brow furrows. “Have I?”

  “Lay, you’ve hardly left the dorm this week. I get that it’s the first week of school and you want to ‘start as you mean to go on’.” My eyes narrow at her use of air quotes. “But you need to find balance. All work and no play makes you…” Her voice trails off. “Well, boring. It makes you boring, Layla.” Shrugging her shoulders, she quirks an eyebrow at me.

  I sigh quietly at her observation. It’s possible I might have been a bit too enthusiastic this week, but it’s my final year at college and I just want it to go as smoothly as possible. It seemed like a good idea to throw myself into my studies, but even I have to admit that after only five days it’s already getting old. “Okay, point taken. But if you think for one second, you’re getting me drunk on cheap and nasty shots, you’re mistaken.”

  “We’ll see, I guess.” I do my best to ignore the mischievous tone in her voice and all its implications.

  Professor Sims chooses this moment to arrive, and we go about settling in for the day's lesson while the professor’s melodic voice starts going through the course syllabus.

  While I am far from artistic myself, I’m a huge art lover and I have been so excited to take this course. My eyes are glued to the front of the class, keenly absorbing all the information we are being given, and my concentration is focused so completely it takes a few punches to my arm for Evie to get my attention.

  “What!” I hiss as quietly as possible.

  “It’s him! The hottie!” She motions with her eyes to the door, and I swivel my neck to see who has her all excited.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my heart rate doubles as I look at the guy standing there.

  It couldn’t be. Surely, I would have heard if he was back in town.

  Unable to tear my deprived eyes away, I trail them up and down, noting and devouring everything about him. The always-mussed dark brown hair, so familiar, reminding me of the years we shared. The masculine scruff covering his jaw, so different, reminding me of the years that have passed.

  His stance as he stands at the entrance to the auditorium is confident, and his bright hazel eyes are alight with amused interest as he scans the room, however his expression changes to one that could almost be described as relief as his gaze clashes with mine. My stomach drops as he immediately heads in our direction.

  Glancing at Evie, I notice she is practically bouncing in her seat as she follows his path toward us. Meanwhile, I’m trying to slouch down in my own seat in an attempt to make myself invisible, desperate to avoid what I know is coming. My cheeks flame as I see a pair of black Chucks stop in front of my seat, and I slowly raise my eyes to meet his.

  “Hey, Bug.”

  Ethan

  Those eyes. Those fucking eyes kill me every time; always filled with so much uncertainty. Never with me though. Nope, there’s no uncertainty in the way her eyes are narrowed and glaring at me.

  I’m surprised it’s taken so long to stumble on her. I’ve been back in town for a couple of months now, and I assumed we would have run into each other before classes started. It didn’t happen though, and I was too much of a pussy to reach out and let her know I was back – scared she would look at me with the exact expression that has settled on her face right now.

  “This seat taken?” I motion to the empty spot beside her. Layla’s face is frozen in shock, and when I glance at the pretty brunette on her other side, I notice it’s the same girl I crashed into in the food court earlier. I can’t help chuckling at the way her eyes are frantically bouncing between the two of us.

  Not bothering to wait for an answer, I throw myself into the seat and make myself comfortable.

  “Have I missed anything important?”

  The answering shake of her head is almost imperceptible, and I can see her brain working madly, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

  The next hour crawls by painfully slowly. Layla’s attention remains steadfastly focused on the front of the class, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. She’s pissed. I knew she would
be, but I also know she hates confrontation, and I’m banking on that helping me to win her over.

  I watch the minutes tick by, not taking in any of the professor’s spiel, but fuck it, it’s the first class of the year and I’ve got more important things to worry about.

  Finally, we’re dismissed, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Layla quickly gathers her things and attempts to bolt. I’m quicker though, and as she turns to maneuver up from her seat, she ends up crashing right into me. My hands immediately reach out to steady her and my brow creases as I notice how much she’s changed.

  Not the face staring back at me, defiantly. That’s exactly as I remember. Tanned and round, with a blush that always tints her cheeks. Full lips that scream of my every perverted fantasy. And then there are those eyes. Huge, warm, chocolate brown eyes that are always overflowing with emotion, unable to hide whatever she is feeling. The rest of her is completely different though, and I can’t help the feeling of regret that seizes my gut. Because she was perfect. So fucking perfect, and she never even realized it.

  “Can we talk? Maybe go and have a drink?”

  “I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Ethan.” Her right eyebrow quirks, challenging me. “I mean, maybe we did three years ago, but you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to talk to me, so I think I’m good. Excuse me.” She attempts to push past me, but I stand firm, refusing to move.