Tracey H. Kitts - Lilith Mercury 1 - Red Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t seem capable of shutting it off.

    I crawled into Alfred’s lap, wrapped my arms around his neck and cried until I was most likely dehydrated. I was too caught up in my own turmoil to read what Alfred felt. Besides that takes direct contact with my hands, skin on skin. He held me as if I was falling apart and he was trying to keep the pieces together. When I finally pulled back from his shoulder, his lab coat, which he was seldom without, was soaked. I opened my mouth to explain, or at least apologize, but he stopped me with that charming half smile of his.

    “Why must you insist on dating assholes who make you lose faith in all mankind?”

    I laughed. “How did you know?”

    “I really didn’t think you felt that strongly about genetic engineering.”

    I laughed harder, and it felt good. I realized awkwardly that I was sitting in Alfred’s lap. He didn’t object to me being there, but he also didn’t object when I slid back into my chair.

    He got up and refreshed my coffee for me. “You want some chocolate?”

    I smiled. “What makes you think I need chocolate?”

    “Well, I was going to have some, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

    Since he was nice enough not to mention the fact that I’d just had a minor breakdown in his lap, I decided to have some chocolate with him, and I felt better.

    RED
    Tracey H. Kitts
    21

Chapter Three

    Several days passed and my mind kept drifting back to my most recent pain in the ass. Yes, he had broken my heart, but the pain seemed to be lodged a bit lower. So, I did what I often do when I feel like shit, I gardened. I got some tools from the shed behind the house and started with trimming my roses. My yard overflows with roses. There is a trellis over the gravel driveway out front, completely overgrown by a thornless climbing Queen Anne, a fragrant old English rose which hangs in clusters of tiny white blooms.
    There are many other roses scattered throughout the woods, but my favorite rose grows on the balcony. I made my way around to the side of the house, kneeling beside the roots of the climbing Don Juan.

    When I’d moved into the house seven years ago, I had the bright idea of planting the Don Juan underneath the balcony. Not only is it a dramatically beautiful climbing rose, but it is symbolic to me for two reasons. First, my favorite poem of all time is Robert Burns, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose. Second, Don Juan was famous for entering his lover’s apartments through their balcony windows.

    As I sat daydreaming of romance that had somehow passed me by, I found myself suddenly sitting in a large shade. I looked up and found Alfred standing over me. He sat down beside me and looked up at the rose, propping on his elbows to lean back on the grass.

    “I see you’re still waiting for Don Juan to climb through your balcony window,”
    he teased.

    I shook my head, smiling. “I should never have told you why I planted this rose.”

    He laughed, “Melodramatic, don’t you think?”

    “A little,” I admitted. “But, great romance and great melodrama often go hand in hand.”

    “Sometimes I forget you’re a poet,” he said.

    I’ve had several poems published in different anthologies. I thought of having them published under a different name, but decided against it. Most of the people who know my name, do not read poetry. There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic at heart. I’m just not fond of the idea of everyone knowing I have a heart. It could always be used against me.

    “If I didn’t have a creative outlet, I’d probably go crazy,” I said. “Besides, I like to write.”

    “And paint, and sketch, and dance ….”

    “There’s nothing wrong with being well rounded,” I insisted.

    Alfred laughed. “Yeah, but most of my family’s idea of a hobby is becoming well round.”

    Alfred is Italian. His father was a Hunter, stationed in Italy years ago, where he met his mother. They’re both in their seventies and as far as I