Don't Touch My Petunia

by Tara Sheets

  She slumped on the pink velvet divan in the middle of the showroom floor while Molly and Gertie bickered over bridesmaid dresses.

  Sighing, Juliette picked up a lavender macaron, trying for the umpteenth time not to think of Logan and their crazy treehouse escapade the night before. Every time she thought of it, her body went soft, her skin flushed with pleasure, and her mind went into overdrive with the memory of how insanely hot Logan had been.

  She shook her head and sat up straighter. She had to focus on the job at hand. They’d been looking at dresses on their lunch break for almost an hour, while Emma tried on bridal gowns for her late August wedding. The sales clerk had been more than happy to bring out rolling racks of gowns and dresses, but so far, no luck.

  “How about this dress?” Gertie held up a strapless mini dress that was barely long enough to cover her important bits. “It’s edgy and fun.”

  Juliette considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Way too many sequins. We’ll look like backup singers.”

  “Agreed,” Molly said with feeling. “And anyway, this bridesmaid? Wouldn’t be able to fit one boob into that dress.” She waved her hand in the air. “Next.”

  Gertie huffed and put the dress back on the rack.

  The salesclerk Vivian came out of the back room with a smile and a subtle hint of French perfume. She was an older woman in a blush-colored shift dress, matching kitten heels, and tasteful jewelry that said, “Trust me, I know all about style.” Vivian exuded the kind of soothing, understated elegance that could calm even the most ferocious of bridezillas. Luckily for her, Emma wasn’t one.

  Emma floated out from the dressing room looking like a frosted cake. The puff-sleeved wedding gown flared out from her waist, cascading onto the floor in a series of swags and ruffles. Alternating satin bows and rosettes were placed at intervals along each flounce.

  She turned in a slow circle and whispered to Juliette, “Is it that bad?”

  Juliette set her half-eaten macaron on a lacy napkin. “If you have to ask me that, then I think you already know the answer.”

  “It’s not that you don’t look gorgeous,” Molly said. “It’s just kind of Little Bo-Peep-ish, you know? With the ruffles and hoopskirt and stuff.”

  “My dears,” Vivian said with quiet authority. “Ruffles are the very thing this year. Everyone’s doing ruffles.”

  “Does it come with any accessories?” Gertie asked. “Like a bonnet, or . . . ?”

  “Some sheep?” Molly giggled.

  Emma rolled her eyes and marched back into the dressing room.

  Vivian followed, her kitten heels clicking on the shiny tiled floor.

  “When are we going to have lunch?” Juliette grumbled. “I’m not hungry anymore, I’m hangry. I need something more than just cookies.” She’d barely eaten anything for breakfast that morning. It was hard to eat when all she kept thinking about was her wild tryst with Logan. After telling herself all morning that it was no big deal, she’d decided to call it a tryst. She liked the clandestine sound of it. No strings attached and no danger of getting hurt. Totally doable.

  “Why so grumpy?” Gertie asked. “Late night with a hot guy?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Juliette shrugged. She was trying her best to minimize the whole thing and write it off as no big deal, but it wasn’t easy when her mind kept flashing back to the things they’d done. The way Logan had kissed her. The way she’d run her hands up under his shirt before yanking it over his head. The smooth, rigid muscles of his torso. His powerful shoulders, bunching and flexing as he gripped the small of her back. The delicious taste of him. The scrape of the floorboards against her bare skin and the slide of his hard, naked body against hers.

  “Wait.” Molly snapped to attention. “You just shrugged.”

  “She did?” Gertie’s gaze shot to Juliette. “Did something happen last night?”

  Juliette held up her hands. “I’ll tell you guys all at once, okay? Because I really don’t want to have to repeat it. It’s crazy enough that it happened, and I don’t want to keep going over it again and again.”

  “Oh, my god.” Molly’s eyes flew open and she pointed an accusing finger at her. “You had sex last night. With who? You need to spill, right now.”

  Juliette took a deep breath, then let it out fast. “No way.”

  “Yes way,” Molly squeaked. “You can’t just say something like that and—”

  “—No, I mean . . .” Juliette pointed behind Molly.

  Emma shimmied out of the dressing room in a series of mincing steps. She was wearing a rhinestone-encrusted strapless gown, so tight that it hugged her like a second skin all the way to her knees. From there, it flared out into a huge flounce that dragged several feet behind her.

  “I don’t think that’s going to work,” Gertie said.

  Molly tilted her head to one side. “I think she looks like a sexy mermaid.”

  “But she can’t walk,” Gertie said. “It’s not sexy if you have to hobble down the aisle.”

  “It’s true,” Emma said. “I can barely move my legs.” She gave Vivian an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this is my lucky day. We’ll come back next week for that new inventory you told us about.”

  Vivian murmured her understanding and began rolling the racks of dresses away.

  Gertie checked her watch. “We have to get back to work. But not before Juliette tells us what happened last night.”

  Emma looked at Juliette with concern. “What happened?”

  Juliette groaned. “Okay, I haven’t had a chance to tell you guys because it all happened so fast. Last night was a mistake, okay? Let me just make that very clear right now.”

  She pierced the three other women with a glare until they all nodded, wide-eyed. Then she proceeded to fill them in about Logan’s phone call. And the sick tree. And how she’d agreed to try to help it, even though it probably wouldn’t work.

  “And then we climbed up into the treehouse and then one thing led to another and then we sort of had sex,” she finished in a rush.

  Emma’s mouth fell open.

  Molly squealed.

  Gertie gave a knowing laugh.

  “So there you have it,” Juliette said, trying to wave it off like it was nothing. “The whole thing was some odd exercise in the surreal, and it’s not going to happen again.”

  “You passed over Brock Templeton,” Molly said in awe.

  “Brock is not what everyone thinks, trust me.” Juliette scrunched up her face at the memory of their terrible date. “He’s as fake as his airbrushed abs and foreign accent. Less Melbourne, Australia, and more Melbourne, Florida.” She briefly told them about the boating disaster, promising to give them more details later.

  Gertie shook her head slowly. “So you went for lumberjack Tarzan instead.”

  “In a treehouse,” Emma teased. “How fitting, Jules.”

  Molly wrinkled her forehead. “How was that? The treehouse part?”

  “It was . . .” The most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. “Hard.”

  Gertie snorted.

  “The floor was hard,” Juliette said. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Why bother?” Gertie sassed. “It’s where all my friends hang out.”

  “That’s it?” Molly looked disappointed. “You had wild jungle sex with Tarzan in a treehouse and all you can say is that the floor was hard? Can’t you throw us a bone? Anything?”

  Juliette couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across her face. “It was hot.” They’d been like flint and tinder. When they came together, the fire that sparked between them burned so bright, just thinking about it made her whole body flush.

  Molly frowned. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly. We need details, but you’re off the hook for now because we have to get back to work.” She took two more macarons from the platter and stood. “This conversation is on ‘pause’ until a future date.”

  “I can assure you, there’ll be no m
ore treehouses in my future because it was a mistake,” Juliette said. “We’re all wrong for each other.” She knew it was true, but she couldn’t help the slight twinge of melancholy that nagged at her. Still, there was no use dwelling on it. She wasn’t going to let one slipup with Logan change the course of her future. She had a job to do and Romeo was coming home soon.

  Logan had already built the greenhouse, and the back deck would soon be finished. Juliette wasn’t about to let a messy relationship get in the way of her goals. If all went well, by the end of the summer Romeo would officially retire, and Juliette could take over the running of the new shop. Then, her life would be complete. She’d have a career surrounded by her beloved plants, she’d have her friends, and she’d have Emma and Hunter. She didn’t need anything, or anyone, else.

  After Gertie and Molly left, Juliette and Emma sat in the bridal shop, leafing through a book of gowns.

  “You know,” Emma said, staring at the magazine, “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

  Juliette peered over Emma’s shoulder at the picture of a puce dress with a sparkly flower appliquéd across the midsection. “Did you fall and hit your head back in the dressing room?”

  “I meant Logan,” Emma said, glancing up. “You and Logan. I’m actually not surprised it happened, and I think you should give it a chance.”

  “I don’t want a chance with him,” Juliette said. “It was a total freak thing. I mean, how real can it be? We were in a treehouse. There were Spider-Man comics and a beanbag chair, for freak’s sake. And that says it all, if you think about it. The whole thing was completely juvenile.”

  “I remember you had a crush on him back in high school.”

  “Key words: ‘high school.’ We shared one tiny kiss at his graduation party, and then he was gone. And honestly, I don’t even know why I was so hung up on him. It was the dumbest kiss. Not even real. He only saw me as a kid. Besides, he never came back.” She felt that old hollowness in her chest, and shoved it away. It was so stupid. She hadn’t felt it in years, and she’d learned long ago to guard herself against it.

  It wasn’t just that she’d lost her mother in a car accident when she was only nine. Even her father had eventually left, when she turned eighteen. After her mother died, he’d never been the same. He was a quiet man, and Juliette knew he loved her, but it was as if he could never get over losing her mother. There was no room in his life for anything except grief. Juliette had found solace in her plants, and in her connection with Emma and their grandmother. She’d learned to fend for herself, doing the chores and the laundry for both herself and her father. She even tried to make recipes from her mother’s cookbook, even though she was abysmal at cooking. But over the years, her father became more and more disinterested. He was like a shadow person in her life, going through the motions but not truly present. There, but not there. Later, when he was offered a job in California, he took it. Juliette had been heartbroken all over again, but she couldn’t bear to watch him wither away in grief.

  They still kept in touch, but only through the occasional e-mail and even rarer phone call. Juliette had learned to rely on Emma, and her loyal friends. She never wanted to feel that acute ache of losing someone again.

  “So you truly feel nothing for Logan?” Emma asked.

  Juliette shook her head. She studied a series of orange bridesmaid dresses in the magazine in front of her. Interesting shade of coral, those.

  “Maybe it could work,” Emma said.

  “Coral?” Juliette kept her gaze focused on the dresses. “You think?”

  “Maybe,” Emma repeated, nudging Juliette with her shoulder, “there’s more to this thing between you and Logan than you’re admitting.”

  Juliette shook her head. She needed to nip this in the bud before Emma got too carried away. “Look, I get what you guys have been saying, okay? I admit he’s a good-looking guy. I just didn’t really pay attention before.” That was a fibtacular statement and they both knew it, but Juliette pressed on anyway. “I’m just not interested in letting things go any further, and I doubt he is either. Besides, I’m not even his type. He likes normal girls.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Emma said. “You’re the most stunningly gorgeous, kindhearted, amazing person I’ve ever known. Half the island’s been in love with you at some point. Why should Logan be an exception?”

  Juliette wrapped an arm around Emma and gave her a lopsided hug. “Have I ever told you I love you? Because I do. Thanks for the pep talk, but I’m honestly not interested in getting serious with Logan. Or anyone else, for that matter. I have everything I need.”

  Emma hugged her back and said, “I just want to see you happy. You deserve so much.”

  “I already have so much.”

  “I mean, I want you to have what I have with Hunter.”

  Juliette felt the conversation taking a turn, and she needed to retreat. She knew where this was going with Emma; they’d had this talk before. How could Juliette ever explain that she didn’t believe in love? She believed in it for others, just not herself. She was thrilled for her cousin, and couldn’t be happier that she was soon getting married to one of the best men in the world. But for Juliette, that kind of relationship was too much. Too much vulnerability. Giving your heart to someone else like that was madness. She’d tried to give hers to Logan back when she was fourteen. Practically walked right up to him and begged him not to go. But he did.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Juliette said, standing. “I’ve never been more happy than I am now, and I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.” It was true. She could see how much joy her cousin and Hunter had together, and that’s all Juliette could have ever wished for.

  Juliette gathered her bag and dusted macaron crumbs from her jeans. “If you really want me to be happy, you’ll feed me. If I don’t eat soon, you’re going to find me in a chalk outline on the sidewalk out there. And then, where will you be, without me to help you find a dress? You’ll have to go with what Vivian suggests, and you’ll be up to your eyeballs in ruffles, shuffling down the aisle with a herd of sheep.”

  * * *

  It was past lunchtime when Juliette relieved Kat from her shift at the shop. After Kat left, Juliette nervously wiped down the cutting table even though it didn’t need it. She knew Logan was outside, but she wasn’t sure what to say. What do you say after a wild fling with a childhood crush in a dusty treehouse? Before she had time to come up with something, the back door opened and Tarzan himself walked in.

  He stood for a moment, saying nothing. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Did he expect her to just stand there and act like everything was fine? She could do that. Because everything was fine.

  “Oh, hey,” she said in a high-pitched voice. She cleared her throat and zipped over to the sink to wash her hands.

  He came and stood beside her. “How are you?”

  She didn’t look up, because the soap dispenser was stuck and she really, really had to fix it. Stupid thing. Always getting stuck. She rinsed it under the warm water, scrubbing at the bottle with a sponge.

  His large hand closed over hers, and she stopped scrubbing. She still didn’t look at him.

  “How are you?” he asked softly.

  “I’m fine,” she said brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Look.” He dried his hands on a towel and leaned against the sink. “We don’t have to talk about—”

  “—Good,” she said firmly.

  He paused. “And I respect that. We don’t have to. But we still have to work together. So rather than pretend nothing happened last night, let’s just both agree that something did.”

  “Of course it did,” she said. “I was there, remember?”

  “I remember.” His voice was a husky murmur that brought the entire night back into vivid detail.

  Her throat went dry, and her cheeks flushed. It was as if time stopped and suddenly they were both back in that treehouse with the rain falling outside and nothing betwee
n them but heat and the slick caress of skin on skin.

  They were standing so close. She could feel his breath stirring the fine hair at her temple. If she just leaned in a fraction of an inch, they’d be touching. She had to get it together. Romeo would be back in less than ten days. She didn’t need this complication.

  “Um.” Juliette fought for a calm she didn’t feel. “We don’t really need to analyze it, okay?”

  “I agree.”

  “There’s just no reason to talk about it, you know?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “It was just a slipup. Nothing special, right?”

  He narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Sure.”

  “Cool.” Because that was what she was all about. Easy breezy fun.

  He reached down and looped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, then slowly pulled her toward him.

  Her limbs went soft, and her breath hitched. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing special.” When his lips met hers, she didn’t even try to fight it. She just gave up. Okay, she was smitten with Logan O’Connor. She was a Logan O’Connor groupie. A Logan Luster. She had to do something. Set some ground rules. Quick!

  “Wait,” she said breathlessly, pulling back. “If this is going to keep happening, then we need to get one thing straight.”

  His gaze fixed intently on hers.

  “I’m just in it for fun. That’s all.”

  Logan cocked an eyebrow.

  “I mean it,” Juliette said in a heated rush. “I’m not interested in anything else, and we are obviously wrong for each other in every other way. I mean, I drive you crazy.”

  He nodded. “You do. You really do.”

  “And you think I’m too bossy. You said so yourself.”

  “True.” He slid his hands around her waist, his warm fingers caressing the small of her back.

  “And you annoy me a lot.” A shiver of pleasure rippled over her skin. “You’re stubborn and you don’t take orders well.”

  “Also true,” he murmured.

  “So we’re in agreement, then?” Her voice quivered as his fingers traced delicious spirals up her spine. “This is just a fling?”