Aphrodite's Garden (A Fast Break Romance)

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “You just give them a single stem?”

  “Yes, for the ladies at the nursing home. I put some in vases for the nurses’ stations at the hospital.”

  “I’d love to help.”

  “So I’ll be indebted to you?”

  The look in his eyes could only be described as wary. “Only you can decide what you want to do with your roses. I can’t deny that I’d like you to sell me enough to get through June. You could give the money to charity, if you like. But I can help you with this.

  It’s what I do.”

  He took a moment to think about it, but in the end, he said,

  “All right,” and handed Aimee a vase.

  “Tell me about the first group of nurses at the hospital.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Start at the first floor and work your way up. Is there a station on the first floor?”

  “No. That’s where the labs are located.”

  “Second floor?”

  “Maternity Ward.”

  Aimee nodded and picked up the pink and bluish roses. She arranged them quickly, placing a few fern fronds to frame them.

  “Perfect,” he commented.

  “Third floor?”

  “Intensive Care Unit.”

  “Hmm. Stressful, fast-paced.” She gathered the silvery lilac roses, added baby’s breath and some trailing ivy.

  “Very soothing.”

  “Next?”

  They continued until the table was filled with arrangements that made the right statement for the nurses’ jobs. “This is incredible. You really are gifted,” Ken said.

  “Yes,” she agreed. Pride had nothing to do with it. She had known for years this was her calling. “I wish . . .”

  “What?”

  “It’s just that people expect me to deliver for them on special occasions. I’m concerned about the kind of strife not having roses for all the June anniversaries will cause in the lives of the couples who depend on me.” She didn’t even mention the rose parade and the weddings.

  “Can’t you just use other flowers for the arrangements?” Aimee shook her head. “It’s like I said yesterday, I don’t understand it, but whenever I try to use other flowers, I can’t make the statement that I can with roses. And it doesn’t matter if there’s only one rose in the arrangement, it makes a difference.”

  “Interesting.”

  Several moments passed in silence. “Well,” Aimee said at length, “I guess I should go.” She turned and walked toward the door, disappointment weighting her feet.

  “Yesterday, Venus told me that a woman I’ve been waiting for would come my way. She wants me to help you.” Aimee stopped and turned. “Why is this so difficult for you?

  What harm would there be in selling me a few hundred roses?

  You’d hardly miss them.”

  “I want to help you. But . . .”

  “What?” she prompted.

  He raked a hand through his hair and looked away. “It’s you. I’ve seen you before.”

  “How? We’d never met before yesterday.”

  “I know.”

  He walked behind the easel and stared at the painting for a moment, then looked back at her. He picked up the canvas and turned it so she, too, could see it. A woman walked through row after row of roses. Tawny hair swirled about her face, partially concealing it. But she held back just enough so that Aimee could make out the subject’s features. It was her. He was quite talented.

  It was an excellent likeness.

  “It’s incredible, Ken. You did this in only one day?”

  “No. I painted it last week.” He set the portrait back on the easel. “It isn’t the only one I’ve painted over the years. There are more.” He looked at the painting as he spoke. “In my mind’s eye, I see her walking among the roses. Sometimes in the morning. At other times in the bright sunshine, in the rain, at night . . . She’s why I’ve never been satisfied with other women. She intrigued me so that I—” He laughed then. “There’s no way I can say this without you thinking that I’m crazy.”

  Aimee joined him behind the easel and looked from the picture to Ken, amazed.

  “It’s you. You’re the woman in my dreams.” Aimee couldn’t speak.

  “I didn’t make the connection at first. When I saw you standing on my front porch, you seemed so familiar. And then, when we were sitting on the couch talking . . . when I touched your hand . . . You see, you’ve been in my dreams so long, it was like I knew you. Like you were already a part of me. I guess that’s why I kissed you the way I did.”

  She leaned toward him. She couldn’t help herself. She wondered if he knew about the soul mates thing Venus had declared them to be. Actually, that kind of irked her. If not for that bit of craziness the mad woman had put in her head, this wouldn’t be so uncomfortable. She wished he’d just give her the roses. That she could take them and walk away. But the idea that he could be her soul mate, and for him, that she could be his illusive vision, just made things, well, complicated. If Venus really be the goddess of love, then could she be guiding events here? It seemed more than mere coincidence, and at once, it seemed the stuff of insanity. Who in their right mind would buy into this?

  So, Aimee did the only thing she could. She looked up at him and laid it all on the line. “Ken, Venus thinks she’s Aphrodite.

  She told me that you were my soul mate.”

  “She told me the same thing. What do you make of it?” He brushed her hair back from her face and cupped her cheek. Big mistake. Aimee stepped back out of his reach. She had to keep a clear head. No touching. That’s what Venus had advised.

  Not until she had the roses. But looking into his eyes, the importance of the roses waned. A voice inside her head told her, in the scheme of things, he was much more important. Astounding. In all her adult life, nothing other than her son had ever held greater importance than roses.

  All she could say was, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “That you must be thinking I’m pathetic. What kind of man would chase a vision instead of finding a real flesh and blood woman to share his life?”

  “Why would you?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question hundreds of times. With you standing here before me, I know why.” He took her hands in his and said, “I was waiting for you.”

  This time when he touched her, she didn’t move away.

  Instead, she stepped closer and rested her cheek against his heart.

  In that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of belonging . . . of coming home.

  “Aimee,” he whispered her name on a sigh as he enfolded her in his arms.

  This would never work. She had to consider the roses. She couldn’t walk away and deny others the happiness they would bring them on their special day. It would be so easy to choose Ken and let the issue of the roses drop. Everything within her screamed that she should. But to do so would be to turn her back on her gift and the responsibility that came with gifts. She had no doubt that Ken was indeed her soul mate. But regardless of how much she wanted to be with him, she had to be true to herself.

  Aimee pushed against his chest, and when he loosened his hold a bit, she moved out of his arms. “I have to go.” She took another step back, toward the door, toward the rest of her life without him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  If she had to explain this to him, she knew it could never work between them. They didn’t have a chance at happily ever after if he couldn’t come to her on his own. He had to understand that the roses weren’t just a business for her. They were part of who she was. Without them, a part of her would die. “Goodbye, Ken. Enjoy your roses.”

  *

  “That is the most bizarre and twisted thing I have ever heard,” Becky said.

  Aimee tossed the mangled carnations onto her work surface. “I can’t do it. I can’t work without roses.”

  “You gave up your soul mate for flowers?” Aimee looked at her friend. She’d spiked her short
red hair so that it stood out at odd angles from her head. On anyone else it would look odd, but on Becky it worked. “I’m surprised you aren’t interested in committing Venus. She has to be certifiable.”

  “Too many coincidences for this to be a coincidence.” That actually made sense. She really was losing it. “I might as well go home.”

  “But you can’t! Tomorrow is the parade and the kick-off for National Rose Month. There are all these orders to fill.”

  “I’ll have to give everyone a refund. The ladies from the Garden Club will be so disappointed. They’ve been planning this celebration for months. I think they were hoping for a miracle.”

  “You give up too easily. Come on, girl. Work your magic.”

  “The magic is in the roses.”

  Becky leaned across the counter and placed her hand over Aimee’s heart. “The magic is here.”

  Aimee shook her head. She wished she had it within her.

  She wished she could take carnations and daisies and make the kind of magic she made with roses. But it just didn’t work.

  Both women turned when they heard the tinkling bells on the shop door.

  “Oh, my!” Becky exclaimed.

  Someone carrying at least four-dozen blood red roses walked toward the counter. There were so many roses, they couldn’t see the person behind the flowers, but he was tall and had strong arms.

  Aimee wiped her hands on her apron and said, “May I help you?”

  A familiar voice said. “I do hope so.”

  “Ken!” Her heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment, then began pounding furiously. Could it really be him? Here in her shop?

  He walked past the counter into the workroom to lay the flowers on her worktable. He turned and took her hand. “I seem to have a problem that only you can solve. And,” he swept an arm over the roses on her work table, “it seems you have a problem that I can solve.”

  “Have solved!” Becky exclaimed.

  Before she could catch her breath, the bells tinkled again.

  Someone else loaded down with roses walked through the shop to the back. A flower-laden Venus said to Becky, “Hey honey, there’s a truckload of roses out front.” She scooted around Ken and deposited her flowers on the table. “Why don’t you help me haul

  ’em in while these kids work things out?” Becky just smiled and did as she was told.

  “So what do you say?” Ken asked.

  “You brought me roses.” She smiled, insanely happy that he was here, that he cared enough to give her his roses, that he was here.

  “Hundreds,” he confirmed.

  “Why?”

  “After you left yesterday, I realized that I’d been protective of the roses because the vision lived among them. I felt I had to keep them thriving for her, so she’d never leave them . . . so she’d never leave me. Aimee, you’re the vision, and as you walked away yesterday, I had another vision—one of you walking out of my life forever.” He trailed a finger down her cheek to her lips. “How could I let you leave when I’ve been growing the roses all these years for you?”

  Aimee didn’t know what to say to that. It was impossible to believe that he had seen her without having ever met her before the other day, unless they bought in to Venus being the goddess of love. She had to admit, with him standing before her, she was decidedly a believer.

  “So, what do you say?”

  “To what?”

  “To helping me with my problem?”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  He took her hands and brought them to his lips. “I need a real, flesh and blood woman to touch.” He pulled her close and put is arms around her waist, bringing her closer. “To hold.” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, long and deep and thorough.

  When at last he lifted his head, he added, “To kiss.” He pushed her hair back and took in every feature of her face. His eyes were mesmerizing, his touch and kisses intoxicating.

  When at last he lifted his lips from hers, Aimee felt dizzy and disoriented . . . and completely in love. How could that be when she hardly knew him?

  “So will you help me?”

  Her throat constricted with emotion. Could this really be happening? Could she trust it was real?

  “Aimee?” A frown marred his handsome face.

  “I don’t know what to say. This has all happened so fast . . .

  and in such a strange way.”

  He smiled then and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s really very simple. My gift is growing roses. Yours is arranging them. I’d say we’re a match made in heaven.”

  “Mt. Olympus,” Venus corrected as she brought in another bucket of roses. “And that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” As she walked back towards the front of the shop, Aimee thought she heard her mumble, “Really, humans can be so dense.”

  “Indeed,” Ken agreed with a grin.

  Aimee couldn’t help smiling, too. “So what are you saying?

  That I’m dense?”

  “No. I’m just saying that it’s easier to go with it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Aimee agreed. “She won’t leave us alone until we—”

  “Get together?”

  “Probably.”

  “So what does this mean? Are we a couple?”

  “Why don’t we start with dinner and see where that leads?”

  “Thanks be to the gods. Oh, that’s me.” Venus laughed at her pun as she brought in the next bunch of roses. “Now kiss and get to work. There are two-dozen people in that stack of orders who will find their true loves at the Rose Day Celebration tomorrow. But not if you don’t do your thing with these magical roses.”

  Aimee laughed. “I guess dinner will have to wait.” Venus winked at them and left. Somehow, Aimee knew that was the last they’d see of her for a while. Mission accomplished, she’d move on to the next couple that needed her help.

  Aimee linked her hands behind Ken’s neck. “This could be a challenging.”

  “What?”

  “The two of us having a relationship. I’ve been alone for a long time.”

  “Me, too. Too long.”

  “I have a son.”

  “I’m a pediatrician, I love children.”

  “He’s eighteen. It’ll be an adjustment for him. And then there’s the distance between Macon and here. And our careers are time-consuming.”

  When he touched her face, she closed her eyes and had a vision of their future. The two of them cuddled on the sofa in his parlor in front of a cozy fire, and a feeling of love and contentment settled over her.

  “We’ll make it work,” he whispered against her lips.

  He kissed her again, and Amy felt her knees weaken. Ken must have felt it, too, because he moved some of the roses out of the way and lifted her onto the edge of the worktable.

  “The roses,” she breathed as he trailed hot kisses down her neck.

  “Those are for you,” he whispered against her ear. “There are more in buckets of water in my truck.” Aimee smiled. “A man after my heart.”

  “Absolutely. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Any rational person would say it’s impossible, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world.”

  “Part of the soul mates package, I’m sure.”

  “You seem to be accepting this with ease.”

  “Hey, I’m just happy the visions have stopped. Happy you’re real. Now,” he kissed her again, “I can touch you and kiss you and hold you.”

  Like a miracle, they’d found each other in the Year of the Rose. Aimee looked at the flowers surrounding her. Hundreds of the most perfect roses, given to her by the perfect man for her. She had a feeling that this year, and all those to come, would be just as perfect. How could they not be when they had the goddess of love on their side?

  *

  Deborah Grace Staley is the author of the #1 Bestselling Angel Ridge Novels. Her novel, What the Heart Wants, won the 2011 Holt Medallion for Excellence in S
ingle Title/Mainstream Fiction. She makes her home in East Tennessee in a circa 1867 farmhouse on five acres with her husband, son, and three dogs.

  She loves to hear from readers. Contact her via her website at

  www.deborahgracestaley.com

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  “The first installment in the Angel Ridge Series is a sweet, old-fashioned romance.”

  The Best Reviews

  Available at

  www.bellbridgebooks.com and

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  Hey, y’all, Dixie Ferguson here. I run Ferguson’s Diner in Angel Ridge, Tennessee. Population three hundred forty-five.

  It’s a picturesque town in the valley of the Little Tennessee River, established in 1785. In the early days, its first families—the McKays, the Wallaces, the Houstons, the Joneses, and the Craigs—

  staked their claims on hundreds of acres of the richest bottom land anyone had ever seen.

  After all the years I’ve spent behind the counter at Ferguson’s, I could probably tell y’all a story about near everyone in town, But we only have so much time, so I’ll narrow it down to just two for now.

  This is a story about acceptin’ folks for who they are. You could say it’s a story about Josie Allen, a librarian, and Cole Craig, a handyman, but I say it’s a story about finding love where you’d least expect.

  A Home for Christmas

  “In the best tradition of storytellers like Debbie Macomber.” Grace Atkinson, Romance Junkies

  Available at

  www.bellbridgebooks.com and

  www.amazon.com

  Dr. Janice Thornton has been lonely for too long, especially at Christmas. But Angel Ridge, Tennessee, the one place that holds the key to what family should be, is offering her a chance at a new life. Can she find happiness by taking over her uncle’s small town practice?

  Local contractor and carpenter, Blake Ferguson, comes from a big family. He’d like to fill his rambling old Victorian with one of his own. But there’s one problem. He needs a wife! When Janice shows up at his house, Blake sets a course to win her, but soon finds she’s built a wall around her heart this master carpenter finds difficult to dismantle.