by Liz Durano
How could I have been so blind not to see that he'd always liked me?
From the way he smiled at me whenever he stopped by on Friday morning to pick up his mother's flowers, the signs were all there. And it didn't even matter if he had a cold or the flu, Logan always showed up with that smile that I now realized had only been for me. It was the same smile I saw whenever I brought the delivery vans and my SUV in for service. How could I have been so stuck in the past when my present was drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as hell?
When I end up pricking my finger with florist wire, I remind myself to pay attention to the work at hand. After all, I'm a professional and right now, I've got a truckload of floral arrangements to deliver and employees who are looking at me, wondering why I'm suddenly so absentminded. I need to get to work and get my mind back in the game of running a business.
Broken hearts can wait.
14
Logan
The guys and I get back early from Monterey on New Year's Eve. Even though it seems like we simply hit the road for the fun of it, we were actually working. While I was away playing fiancé, Liam had entertained one of Adriana's suggestions that we chronicle our road trips and post them on our channel. According to Liam, we actually earn a pretty good revenue—not enough to live on but enough that you can't ignore the potential—from ads that run on a few of our existing videos.
"And those weren't even produced really well," he'd said over lunch while we were in Monterey. "Sure we were still figuring out how to work our drone and all, but viewers still loved the final product. They also love the idea of two brothers hitting the road and talking about stuff... as long as we don't talk about our love life and shit."
"Didn't Adriana edit those?" I asked and my brother nodded.
"She'll do the post production work. We have to come up with the trips," he said. "And it's not like we don't know the best routes around here. Just imagine, Logan, it's work and pleasure all rolled into one. What could be better than that?"
"Let's get it going then," I told him then. After all, I was going to need something to distract me from thinking of Mariah.
As we drive along the freeway heading south on the 405, Liam and I make one more stop before heading home. As he waits for me outside, I run into the supermarket to bouquet of flowers. It's not the same but it will have to do. I'd planned on canceling the standing order of flowers from Mariah's shop before we headed out to Monterey but I never got around to it. I'll have to do it after the New Year. I'm sure things won't feel as raw then.
The flowers I stick into my backpack are a sad replacement for the ones I normally bring with me every Friday and Liam knows it. I see it when he shakes his head just before we ride to the cemetery.
But what can I do? Everything has changed since Christmas. Even Liam knows it but he knows better than to ask for details. He just knows that one moment I was "engaged" on social media and the next, I wasn't. One minute I couldn't stop raving about the florist and the next, I couldn't stand the sound of her name.
We park our motorcycles at the curb and make our way up the hill toward Mom's grave. Liam spots the flowers first.
"When did you have time to drop off fresh flowers for Mom?"
"I didn't. The cemetery staff remove them after five days so there shouldn't be any flowers in the vase right now."
But as we draw closer, there's no mistaking the bouquet arranged in the granite lawn vase that's part of Mom's gravestone. Pink Asiatic lilies, purple daisy poms and alstroemeria interspersed with white waxflowers and purple statice—Mom's favorite flowers. And with Adriana allergic to flowers and not particularly caring about them, there's only one other person who knows what they are. It's also a Friday.
Liam gets down on his haunches. "That was really nice of her to do this. Mom would have been happy to know her."
I don't answer even though I know Liam's right. Mom would have gotten along well with Mariah. They'd probably talk about flowers and painting, two of her favorite hobbies.
Liam stands up and faces me. "Can I just say what an idiot you are?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're an idiot."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"I can't believe you're just going to let her go like that all because she messed up once," Liam says. "So she made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, bro."
I don't have to ask Liam who he's talking about. Of course, it's Mariah. If there's someone who's always known I'd always liked the blond florist, it's him... and maybe the rest of the guys.
"Even when you had some chick on the side, you dropped everything for her. All it would take was a phone call and you were on it," Liam continues. "And don't lie to me and say you didn't. Not in front of Mom. You gave her discounts–"
"I give a lot of people discounts."
"No, you don't. Definitely not 50 percent off the bill and you'd tell me to take it out of your pay," Liam says. "But the guys... they knew so they didn't mind. She brings in her delivery vans anyway and that covers the discounts you charge her for her SUV."
"So what's the big deal? It's a wash."
"Nothing. I'm just telling you the facts, bro," he says as I look at Mom's grave, at the flowers that Mariah must have carefully arranged and then brought over here herself. I can almost see her making sure the flowers looked good in the granite vase, her blond hair falling off her shoulders as she slipped something between the blooms. I frown, getting down on my haunches and pulling out a rolled piece of paper tucked between the blooms.
"What's that?" Liam asks as I stand up and unroll the sheet.
"Looks like a note."
Liam peers at the note. "To Mom? What does it say?"
The handwriting is neat and familiar. I've seen it before because I've seen Mariah write little thank you notes for me and the guys every time we do the maintenance on her delivery vans. It's the same handwriting that graces her thank you, birthday, and Christmas cards.
Dear Mrs. Garrison,
Thank you for raising two amazing sons, one of whom I have hurt so much after everything he did for me even when he knew deep down it was wrong to pretend to be someone he wasn't. But no matter how wrong it was to do what we did, I want you to know that he made me so happy. He made me realize that I needed to move on from the past that has weighed me down for so long and kept me from appreciating what (and who) was right in front of me all along. Maybe one day, things will work out again. But for now, I hope you like your flowers. I truly enjoy arranging them for you every week.
Yours, Mariah
As Liam takes one look at the note and steps back, I'm glad he doesn't insist on reading it. I roll the note again and slip it back between the flowers, back to the woman it was meant for.
Ten minutes later, we say our silent goodbyes to Mom, wishing her a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
"You hanging out with Adriana?" I ask as we make our way back to our bikes.
"Yup, she's got dinner and Netflix planned for us. You?"
"I don't know yet."
Liam snaps on his helmet. "Can I say one last thing?"
"No."
"Don't be an idiot."
15
Mariah
When the last of my employees clock out at six, all of them eager to enjoy New Year's Eve festivities, I'm left alone in the shop for the first time since I walked in at four in the morning. I should be out partying—after all, it's New Year's Eve—but after working almost fourteen hours straight setting up flowers for the NYE-themed wedding and reception, all I want to do is go home, take a shower, and greet the new year in my dreams.
At least, even if my love life is in shambles and is nonexistent, I just closed the year with a bang. The NYE-themed wedding was the biggest event my employees and I ever worked on. I even ran out of business cards to hand out, the wedding party and other vendors setting up for the event impressed and curious about my little flower shop. Even a network crew covering the wedding submitted a standing order for Always
on a Tuesday Flowers to provide flowers for their offices and if I wasn't exhausted right now, I'd probably stay a bit longer so I can work on flower choices.
The knock on the front door brings me back to the present. I glance at the clock on the wall, knowing that whoever it is and whatever they need, the shop will remain closed. No exceptions. But I peek anyway and my heart skips a beat when the man outside the front door smiles sheepishly.
Logan Garrison will always be an exception... even if our parting wasn't exactly the best.
I unlock the front door and let him in. He's wearing black jeans and a dark t-shirt under a denim shirt, looking gorgeous as ever. As he brushes past me, I catch the scent of a familiar blend and look at him quizzically.
"Spruce and rosewood. Is that from my mom?"
He nods. "Yeah, she gave me soaps and a bottle of insect repellent for Christmas. All organic, of course, and the repellent worked during our ride to Monterey. Even Liam wants one now."
"Yup, that's Mom all right." I close the door and lean against it as I face him, not quite knowing what to do next except that I don't want him to leave yet. "Happy New Year, by the way."
"Happy New Year, Mariah," he says. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too."
"I'm sorry about the way things went down between us," he says. "I'm sorry for leaving you up there the way I did. I should have stood by you until the end, as your friend, at least. Instead, I left and that was wrong."
My throat tightens. "You had every reason to leave, Logan. You didn't want to pretend anymore and you were right. I wouldn't have stood by me either, not after everything fell apart the way it did and Cooper arriving–"
"I just wanted us to be real, Mariah, you and me and what we had going," he says. "I wanted it all to be real. You, your family, the love you all shared. I wanted it all even when I knew it was pretend."
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. "But not all of it was pretend."
He shakes his head. "No, not for me."
"Not for me either... well, except for the engaged part."
"What happened to the ring?"
"It's in my jewelry box," I reply, glancing down at my hands, bare from any jewelry.
Logan clears his throat.
"Would you like us to be real, Mariah?"
As I look at him, I see the pain in his eyes mingled with a yearning I remember when we were at the Cercis, just before things fell apart. That was when he bared everything to me, the way he really felt. That was when I scuttled back into the safety of my past and the wounds I used as armor.
But I can't do that anymore. I'm done living in the past.
"Yes," I whisper, the rest of my answer translated into the kiss that comes when Logan's lips meet mine, my entire being breathing him in like he's the air I need to survive. My arms circle his neck, the taste of his lips reminding me of the laughter we shared as we sat in front of the Christmas tree with my family just a few days ago, the smell of pine and the feel of snow beneath our boots as we took that first walk around the Soraya… and then that practice kiss that was never a practice kiss at all, not for us.
Logan pulls away and studies my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. "I saw the flowers you left at my mother's grave," he murmurs. "That was really nice of you."
"When you didn't show up, I figured you were probably out of town."
"I was."
"And her grave would have been without flowers for the week." I sigh. "I hope you don't mind me doing that."
"No, not at all. Thank you." When I don't say anything, Logan continues. "I read your note. I know it wasn't for me and I'm sorry."
"I hope that was okay."
"You and her would have gotten along well. Even Liam said so," he says.
"Logan, I owe you an apology, too."
"What for?"
"I'm sorry for telling everyone you were just my mechanic. I didn't even have the decency to call you my friend and I am so sorry. I was a coward." I see his jaw clench but he doesn't reply.
"You were never just a mechanic to me, Logan. You were always someone special, but I was just too scared to open myself up to falling in love again." I pause, sighing. "I'm just glad my SUV and my delivery vans didn't have the same idea. Thank goodness, there was always a reason for me to bring them in and see you."
"It's called a maintenance schedule," he says, grinning. "I don't even care if you like pineapple on your pizza, Mariah. I don't want to lose you again, or ever, for that matter."
As Logan strokes my cheek with his thumb, his fingers grazing the skin behind my ear, I can feel that familiar tingle running down my body and the butterflies in my belly fluttering again. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone is setting off fireworks.
"So what should we do now?" I ask. "My plans were pretty boring. Go home, take a shower, and greet the new year in my PJ's."
A mischievous smile graces his handsome face and he pretends to think for a moment.
"How about celebrating New Year's Eve with me? We can work out the details later."
"Sounds like a plan," I say, chuckling. "Anything else?"
"This." Our lips connect then and I feel myself melting against him. His kiss starts soft at first before becoming hard, his teeth nibbling my lower lip. It's possessive and rough, almost turning my knees into putty.
My breath emerges as a moan against his mouth and Logan pulls away, a faint smile on his lips. "Let's get out of here before I end up making love to you on the counter."
I nip playfully at his lower lip. "I do have a larger-than-twin-size bed in my apartment."
"That's good to know."
"But I'm also starving," I add, chuckling. "Like, for real, starving."
Two hours later, we find ourselves sitting on the floor in front of my fireplace as the Times Square NYE special airs on TV. I've taken a quick shower and we're drinking champagne and eating pizza we picked up on the way home, half of it laden with pepperoni and the other half pineapple. Logan even braved a taste, doing his best not to make the funniest faces. Our little celebratory meal is nothing like the wedding I just oversaw but I'll take this moment over anything else. At least, this time, it's no charade.
When the glass ball descends on Times Square, Logan turns away from the TV and gazes at me. His fingers trace the outline of my cheekbone, my jawline, my lips. I close my eyes, savoring every sensation as my hands do some tracing of their own, the hard contours of his bicep up to his shoulder and down his chest, and lower still to his six-pack abs.
I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow but I know what I want to happen tonight. "I want you, Logan," I whisper as he groans, his fingers diving into my hair, pulling me closer. Our mouths meet again, hard and demanding, our tongues tasting of champagne.
When his hands tug at my shirt, pulling it over my head, I hear him breathe a sigh as he gazes at me.
"You're so beautiful, Mariah," he murmurs before kissing me again, his hands hooking the waistband of my shorts. When he blazes a trail of kisses down my neck to my breast, his voice telling me how amazing I feel vibrating against my skin sends delicious chills throughout my body. As he continues lower, taking a nipple in his mouth, he manages to help me out of the rest of my clothes.
I gasp, losing myself in the many sensations that hit me all at once—excitement, desire and bliss all rolled into one as he catches my nipple between his teeth. When his other hand drifts between my legs, I moan, my fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders.
He lifts his head to look at me. "Are you sure about this?"
I nod, closing my eyes as Logan positions himself between my legs. I moan when his mouth finds my sensitive folds, tonguing them slowly as I lace my fingers through his hair. He has me moaning, groaning, and gasping as I ride out my first release, his tongue and fingers doing their magic until I’m out of breath, impatient to feel him inside me.
I tug at his clothes impatiently, tossing his shirt to the floor before helping him out of his jeans. He's
rock hard, and I want nothing more but to feel him inside me.
When Logan kisses me again, I taste myself on his lips. His erection feels like a hot and hard rod against my thigh. A few blocks away, someone is setting off fireworks, each explosion seeming to match the beating of my heart as I watch Logan retrieve a condom from his wallet and roll it on his cock.
He interlaces my fingers with his, pinning my hands above my head as he teases me with his long hard length pressing against my entrance. I moan as he enters me, pausing to allow me to get used to his size before pushing deeper.
"Look at me, Mariah." I open my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in Logan's intense gaze as he fills me slowly. My breath comes in short gasps as he begins to move. It feels so good I never want it to stop. It's as if we were meant to fit together.
Logan kisses me again, one hand releasing my fingers so he can bring it lower, pressing on my clit. I moan against his mouth, losing myself again as I feel myself buffeted against the tide of sensations engulfing me. It ebbs and flows, making me forget where I am but in his arms, safe.
When my release comes, it's overwhelming and I cry out, not caring who hears me. It's just Logan and me and that's all that matters.
Logan buries his face in my neck, his breath warm against my skin as he welcomes his release. I love the way he claims me like this, as if I've always been meant for him and no one else. And him, just for me.
