by Iris Morland
I stared at him in surprise. “I had no idea.”
“You wouldn’t have. My dad keeps any details of the business under lock and key. He wouldn’t even tell me about it at first.” Jacob sighed. “Now everything is complicated. I have to untangle the mess my parents made…”
I’d had no idea that Flowers was struggling. Then again, Jacob hadn’t said as much, just that his parents were total control freaks. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head, Just like a West.
“So does that mean you do care about plants?” I said. “Because it got lost in there.”
“I do, especially within the last two years.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the window. It was a casual pose that made whatever it was we were doing more intimate. “I even grew some tomatoes on my porch last summer.”
“Oh my God, you crazy person. Next you’re going to tell me you’re growing eggplants and zucchini like a nutter.”
“Eggplants are the fucking worst. I would never grow poisonous sponges.”
“Eggplants and I have a sordid history.” When I realized what I’d just said about a phallic-shaped vegetable, I blushed to the roots of my hair. “Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
He gave me a slow perusal, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “I guess there are lots of sides to you I don’t know about.”
“Yeah, no. Do you remember when we got into that fight with Tommy Hedrick? My mom punished me by not letting me grow tomatoes that summer. I had to eat so many eggplants instead.”
“That sounds like something your parents would use as a punishment. Mine just took away my Ninja Turtles for a week.”
I smiled, even though my mind turned to the fact that my parents had never liked the Wests because of a ridiculous rivalry between them. As far as I knew, Jacob’s parents didn’t like mine, either. We were Romeo and Juliet of the florist world, except Romeo didn’t know I existed because he was still hung up on Rosalind.
“We were good friends, weren’t we?” Jacob’s voice was soft. “As kids, I mean.”
Before I could ask him why he’d decided to end that friendship with the whole standing-me-up-for-prom thing, he looked out the window and said, “The city’s changed so much since I left. Every time I come back, it’s like I have to relearn it.”
“You’re a rare breed, though.” He raised an eyebrow at my statement. “Because you came back. There aren’t many born-and-bred Seattleites left. They’ve all gone off to other places. Or at the very least, moved down to Tacoma.”
Jacob chuckled and shuddered. “Don’t even say its name.”
“Why? Will I summon it like Beetlejuice? Tacoma, Tacoma, Tacom—”
Jacob moved so fast that he was like a blur. He pressed his fingers to my mouth to stop my flow of words. My breath stuttered in my chest. His fingers were impossibly warm, and it was like that heat transferred to every inch of my body.
A moment passed, then another. Jacob had yet to move his fingers from my lips. Impulsively, I touched the tip of my tongue to his middle finger. His eyes darkened.
“You’re playing with fire,” he rasped, finally moving his hand away and allowing me to speak.
I knew he didn’t mean the game we’d just been playing. The game had shifted—the lines had been redrawn. I didn’t know how to play this game to begin with, and I felt completely out of my depth. I wished I could play it cool, or even better, close the distance between us and kiss him. Anna would know what to do. Me, however? I always overthought things until it was too late.
I finally found my voice. “Would it be cheesy to say that I wouldn’t mind getting burned? If we’re continuing with this whole fire metaphor.”
“Everyone should consent before any fires are lit,” was his reply as he took my hand and kissed my palm. I froze when I felt his tongue lick a circle in the center of it. “It’s only right,” he added.
“Right. So right. People should always try to be right.”
His other hand drifted down my back until he could pull me closer. When our bodies aligned, my breasts against his hard chest, the only thought in my mind was that Jacob West was going to kiss me and I really, really hoped I didn’t fuck it all up.
He tilted my head back slightly before he leaned down to press his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, like a petal against the skin, but it only whet my appetite further. I wondered if I should open my mouth, or should I wait for him? Why was I such a mess?
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, his breath warm. “Just enjoy yourself.”
“Why do people always say shit like that? That just makes me think harder.”
“Then I’ll have to try harder to make you stop thinking.”
I wanted to wish him Godspeed and good luck, until he kissed me again, angling his mouth so he could kiss me more deeply than before. This kiss wasn’t gentle at all: it was possessive and wet and I felt the stroke of his tongue like a stroke against my clit. I moaned, clutching at his shoulder. When I felt his cock press against my belly, my pussy throbbed. I wanted to climb all over him. I wanted him never to stop kissing me. Mostly, I wanted him to touch me everywhere.
He kneaded my ass, lifting me so he could rub his hardness in the notch between my thighs. My toes curled. I wondered wildly if I could come just from this. I was already tight, achy. Desperate. My nipples were hardened nubs that, with every brush of his chest against mine, throbbed even more.
I’d never been kissed like this in my entire life. I’d almost convinced myself these feelings, these sensations, didn’t exist. They existed in fiction and nowhere else. But Jacob put proof to that lie within a few strokes of his tongue against mine. I kept arching and rubbing against him like a cat. It was like I was trying to climb out of my very skin.
At this point, the only reason I hadn’t collapsed at his feet was because he was holding me up. I was entirely at his disposal.
“Did it work?” he said finally. He licked at the pulse point in my neck.
“What worked?” I was totally dazed.
His smile made my pussy clench. “There’s my answer, then.”
He looked so cocky and smug that if I weren’t so very horny I’d tell him to go fuck himself. Except I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to carry me into my bedroom, strip off my clothes, and plunge his cock into me until I screamed. I’d never wanted any man like I wanted Jacob right this moment.
I was about to wrap myself around him like a deranged octopus when Kevin yowled and launched himself at Jacob’s ankle. Jacob yelled, I yelled, Kevin yelled. Jacob managed to boot Kevin off of him without damaging the stupid cat further, and I wanted to die of mortification.
Of course, whatever moment we’d been enjoying was broken. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine.” To my surprise, Jacob started laughing. “I think everything concerning you is trying to kill me tonight.”
Kevin had run back to my room, the coward. “I’ve never seen Kevin do that. Maybe it’s because you’re a guy and he hasn’t been around men?”
I could’ve bitten my tongue in half and swallowed it. Jacob didn’t miss what I’d implied. The heat in his eyes disappeared, and suddenly, he was just the mysterious man who’d returned from New York and nothing else.
“I should go,” he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, then shook his head. He murmured goodbye and that was that.
Chapter Nine
Mari held up a pink peony and a white one. “Which do you like better?”
“What is this for again?” I said.
Mari sighed. “For my bouquet. Pink or white? My dress is white so I thought pink, but I kind of like the idea of having all the flowers be white, too.”
A few days after that mind-blowing kiss with Jacob, Mari invited me to her place to help her with wedding planning. Kate had joined us as well, although she was busy studying for an exam. I didn’t know how she managed to concentrate while Mari and I talked bouquets, but Kate had always had a remarkable abilit
y to retain information with little effort. I was surprised she was even studying at all.
“Neither,” I said finally. I began to sketch a bouquet in pencil. “Since your bridesmaids are wearing pink, it’ll be pink overload if your bouquets are pink, too.”
Mari nibbled her bottom lip. “That’s true.”
I glanced at the color selection that Mari had chosen, my brain putting together arrangements and discarding them just as quickly. Mari watched me draw the bouquet in silence, and soon, Kate joined us and looked over my shoulder.
“Do you have markers or colored pencils?” I asked. “I should’ve brought mine.”
Mari brought me some fine-tipped markers. If the whole Jacob thing hadn’t totally scrambled my brain, I would’ve remembered to bring my sketchpad and markers that I used when drawing arrangements and bouquets for clients.
As I colored in the flowers, I thought again of Jacob’s voice, roughened from kissing me. The way his hands had traveled over my body, pleasure blooming with every brush of his fingers against me. He hadn’t tried contacting me in the last five days, and there’d been no stops at Buds and Blossoms. I’d tried not to let it hurt my feelings, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t mystified by the sudden cold shoulder. Had I said something stupid? Had I freaked him out when I’d admitted there hadn’t been any guys at my apartment? I’d racked my brain to figure out what I could’ve done to make him run in the other direction, but even with Anna’s help, we hadn’t been able to think of a reason.
The bouquet drawing seemed to pour from my brain, through my fingers, without any conscious thought. One moment it was just a pencil sketch; the next, it was a bouquet of dark pink peonies, royal purple anemones and pale green dusty miller, along with navy blue feathers. “Since your wedding is in the evening and going to be in October, I think this will go perfectly. But I can change whatever you want.”
Kate leaned over me, her hair brushing my cheek. “What flowers are those?”
I snorted and patted her head. “Go back to studying, you black thumb, you.”
“It’s not my fault plants die around me. They just don’t like me. It’s pretty. I like it. What about you, Mari?”
Mari took the sketch and looked at it for a long moment. I worried that she’d think the colors were too bright: she tended to gravitate more toward neutrals and pink. Then again, she had chosen maroon as one of her wedding colors.
“I love it,” she finally pronounced. “I wouldn’t have thought of using anemones. It’s way better than I was thinking.”
“Oh thank God,” said Kate. “Because if you would’ve made me carry a boring pink bouquet as a bridesmaid, I’d hate you forever.”
“Kate, bridesmaids are supposed to grin and bear it,” I said.
Mari wrinkled her nose. “Why did I let you be in my wedding again?”
“Because you love me.” Kate returned to her perch on Mari’s overstuffed chair, her legs crossed and a pencil soon dangling from her mouth.
“She’s a menace,” I said. “I’m still not convinced we’re related to her.”
“You’re a menace, too. Remember the time you put ragweed in my backpack as a prank, and it was covered in bugs?”
“Oh yeah.” I smiled. “You were so mad at me. You wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”
Mari leaned back in her chair. “Didn’t Jacob West help you get all that ragweed?” she said slyly.
I’d told Mari about Jacob’s stopping by the shop, but nothing beyond that. I wasn’t sure she would understand; Mari had never struggled for male attention. The thought of admitting that Jacob had kissed me and then had ghosted on me was humiliating.
“Did he?” I said, knowing full well that he had. That had been when we’d still been young enough to be friends. “I can’t remember.”
“You liar. I also know you aren’t telling me everything. Besides, you’re as red as a tomato right now. Either tell me, or I’m going to sic Kate on you.”
I glanced over at Kate. She had her headphones on, and she was too busy studying to notice us. But if she so much as sniffed any kind of gossip about her sisters, she’d be like a bloodhound on the hunt. Except she was a little bloodhound with skinny arms and legs and a propensity to eat too many potato chips during the day. Although Kate was technically an adult now at nineteen, she was still our baby sister who’d followed me and Mari around all the time. She’d probably always be a kid in my mind, even when she was sixty-five.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said, calling Mari’s bluff. “You wouldn’t want Kate to know the same time as you.”
“To get you to spill, I’d do it.” She looked over my shoulder. “Kate!”
“For the love of God, Mari.” I slapped my hand over her mouth.
Kate called, “Did you say my name?”
“No!” I replied before Mari could. “Go back to studying.”
Kate frowned, dubious, but she put her headphones back in after a moment. I grabbed Mari by the wrist and dragged her to her bedroom. I shut the door behind us and said in a rush, “I kissed Jacob West. Or really, he kissed me.”
Mari’s eyes widened into saucers. “Are you serious right now?”
“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”
“When did this happen? Wait, how did this happen? Have you been hanging out with him? Are you guys dating?” She started cackling like a witch. “Mom and Dad are going to freak out. They’re going to lock you up in the basement!”
“We don’t have a basement. This is Seattle, not Kansas.”
“Then they’ll lock you in a closet. Or under the house. If Dad doesn’t blow the house up when he finds out.” Mari gripped my shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”
“Honestly, at this point, your guess is as good as mine.”
“It means that we could finally end this stupid feud between us. Then we wouldn’t have to hear Dad talk about how much those Wests annoy him at every Thanksgiving! Dani, you have to lock this down. Poke a hole in the condom. Get pregnant, make him marry you.”
“Good lord, is that what you did to get David to propose?”
Mari had the audacity to look offended. “Of course not. He loves me. And I’m not pregnant.”
Now I was irritated. “So the only way Jacob would stay with me is if I got pregnant? That’s nice of you to say.”
Mari finally realized what she’d said, and she winced. “No, no. I was joking. Mostly joking. I do think this could be good for both families.” Her expression darkened. “Unless you break up. Please don’t break up. I couldn’t take it. Dad would probably burn the Wests’ house down. He wouldn’t survive in prison. You can’t grow orchids there, you know.”
I rolled my eyes and moved further into her bedroom. The quilt was off-white, the furniture a deep walnut. The only color was a crimson amaryllis in the window. It smelled like my sister: sweet pea and vanilla. Looking at the bed, I wondered how she managed to keep her quilt clean if she and David were having sex all the time in her bed. Which was not an image I needed in my brain at all. I wasn’t sure if the thought of my sister having sex or the idea of Prius-driving David humping her was worse. He probably orgasmed at the thought of his stock options increasing.
“We aren’t dating,” I said to the amaryllis.
“But you said he kissed you.”
I shrugged, even though I felt my heart splinter. “It was just one kiss, Mari. Not a marriage proposal.”
“Men don’t kiss women unless they at least want to sleep with you.”
“I think it was just the thrill of the moment. A throwaway thing. Maybe an experiment.” I touched the delicate petals of the amaryllis. “I don’t know. I wish I could ask him, but who wants a guy to tell them they’d rather not kiss you again, thank you very much?”
Mari frowned. She sat down on her bed, peering at me. “You know what you should do?”
“Give up on men forever and live in a spinster commune that rescues senior cats?”
“No, you should talk to
him. Like an adult. If you like him, you should tell him as much.”
I’d rather stab my eyeballs with a spork. I’d rather eat a bowl of sporks. I’d rather watch David hump my sister in this very bed, which said a lot about my current mental state.
“No, thanks,” I said instead.
“You were totally in love with Jacob when we were younger. But you never said anything, did you? You just stared at him from afar and hoped he could read your mind.”
“Um, are you forgetting when I asked him to prom? And then he stood me up?” Those feelings of humiliation and anger rose up inside me again. I was glad of them, because they reminded me why falling for Jacob was a bad idea in the first place. Yeah, we were adults now, but that didn’t erase his betrayal, either. It still didn’t help me trust him now.
“To be fair, he was a seventeen-year-old boy,” said Mari, folding her hands primly in her lap.
“That’s no excuse. And seventeen is almost eighteen, and eighteen is legally an adult.”
“We both know that eighteen doesn’t mean anything in terms of maturity. Pretty sure you were still watching SpongeBob SquarePants when you turned eighteen.”
I pointed a finger at her, my other hand covering my heart. “The first four seasons of SpongeBob are brilliant and it’s not my fault you can’t see that.”
“Now you’re just deflecting. And about a cartoon sponge who lives in a pineapple.” Mari’s tone was dry. Her tone became gentler as she added, “What’s the worst that can happen if you’re honest with him?”
He could tell me it was a mistake to kiss me. He could tell me he isn’t really attracted to me. I could burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. He could break my heart a second time.
“I’ll consider it,” I said, even though both Mari and I knew how stubborn I could be. She’d always been able to share her feelings easily. She would go up to boys in grade school, tell them point-blank that she liked them, and then she’d have a boyfriend. But she’d never faced rejection, either. She didn’t know what it was like to love and have that love not embraced but pushed to the side like an inconvenience.
