by Lacey Black
Determined to find out her story–and her name–I head towards the office to finish up paperwork. Then, it’s home and to deliver the flowers to my neighbor. Mrs. Hanson will be thrilled by my Monday night visit, I’m sure, and won’t suspect a thing if I slip in a few subtle questions about the beautiful flower shop employee. She’s clearly not the woman I’ve met before who owns the shop, but the resemblance is uncanny. Finding out a little information shouldn’t be too difficult.
And once I complete a little recon, it’s off to buy more flowers.
Chapter Three
Jaime
I’m still staring out the front door, even after the taillights on the large truck have long disappeared. I’ve never felt anything like it. A connection to the way his eyes roamed my body, the way his touch unearthed me. Even with Gavin, I’ve never felt such a deep, gut-check reaction to a man before.
Sure, his body was amazing. Even in a dark polo, pair of jeans, and work boots, I could tell he’s a man who takes pride in his physical appearance. Broad shoulders with a wide chest, trim, lean waist, and a powerful pair of tree trunk thighs. His hair was dark brown with just enough length to run your fingers through it. He’s a deadly combination of authority and sexuality. And let’s not get into the impressive bulge in his pants that I tried my damnedest to ignore. Holy hell, that man was walking sex.
And that’s not even including his eyes. Of course, those deep brown eyes were the first thing I noticed when he stepped into my sister’s flower shop at the end of my very first day. Eyes that seemed to devour me inch by inch as they perused and consumed my entire body, lighting me up like the Fourth of July.
Then there’s the smile. The one that promised dirty, wicked things with each smirk, each grin he awarded me. It was a beautiful smile that captivated me and left me ready to throw caution to the wind and rip off his clothes.
Who hits on a woman while he’s buying flowers for another?
A player, that’s who.
But why are players always so friggin’ hot?
Can’t there, for once, be a hot normal guy? One who wants a steady girlfriend, who wants to buy her flowers just because, who wants to get married and settle down? My thoughts instantly drift to Gavin. He was gorgeous, smart, and charming. And I thought he wanted to settle down. Hell, he put a damn ring on my finger, didn’t he? But in the end, he walked away without so much as a backwards glance, leaving me in a pile of unusable wedding gifts and satin.
A noise pulls me from my thoughts. “Jaime, are you all right?” Payton asks behind me.
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh, maybe because I’ve been talking to you for two minutes and you haven’t so much as acknowledged me.”
“Oh, sorry. I was just lost in thought,” I respond, turning and looking once more out the front door.
“I’m so sorry it took me so long to make that delivery. The residents were so excited about the lilies that I couldn’t get out the door,” she says.
Payton donates table centerpieces each week to the residents of Jupiter Bay Nursing Home. When she opened Blossoms and Blooms, her accountant advised her that donations would help accrue deductions. It’s also a great way to advertise since she includes the shop logo and phone number on every arrangement. And Payton doesn’t skimp on her arrangements either. While some shops may use carnations and daisies, my sister prides herself on delivering cheerful, bold arrangements that are sure to brighten the day of each resident.
“It’s okay,” I mumble as I head back to finish cleaning the counter. You know, the task I was working on when Mr. Drop Your Panties entered the place?
“You didn’t have any trouble? I know it’s your first day and all.”
I shake my head in answer, my thoughts returning to the last customer of the day. One that I don’t plan to think about once I leave work. The same one I don’t plan on telling my sister about either. Each Summer sister has a knack for getting the goods from the others. I know she’ll start the inquisition, and I’ll end up spilling all the dirty details.
If there really were dirty details.
“Oh, you had a customer after closing?” she asks.
Crap.
Turning to face the firing squad, I notice she’s looking at the time and date stamp on the top of the receipt. Obviously, I didn’t think of that. Do you think she’ll buy that the time stamp is off?
“Yeah, we had a customer come in and want something from the case. I figured since it was already made up and he had cash, it would be alright.”
“He?” she asks, a perfectly manicured eyebrow shooting heavenward.
“Umm, yeah. I hope that’s okay that I sold him the arrangement.”
“Of course it’s okay. I never want to turn down business. You said he paid with cash? Was he cute?” she asks, scrunching up her pert little nose.
“Umm, yeah, well, I guess. I mean he wasn’t ugly or anything. Just some guy. Whatever.”
She stares back at me, dark green eyes accessing me, and all I can do is hold her gaze even though I’m dying to look away. The look she gives me reminds me of Grandma. She has this innate ability to see right through you. It was torture when we were teenagers.
“Some guy. Whatever. Hmmmm.” She turns away, but not before I catch sight of a grin.
“It was nothing. He needed something for his date. That’s all.”
“A date, huh? Well, that doesn’t mean anything,” she says while closing out the register.
“Of course it means something. If he’s dating someone, why would he come here and flirt with me?”
“He was flirting with you?” she asks while spinning around, brimming with excitement.
“It was tacky and completely unwarranted.”
“Flirting with my beautiful, single sister is unwarranted? Why? Because he had a date? Are you sure it was even a date? Maybe he was buying them for his mom?”
“Oh no, they were definitely for someone special. He kept insinuating that much.”
“While he was flirting with you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Whatever. I’m sure I’ll never see him again,” I state matter-of-factly before turning my attention back to my job.
“Did he give you his name?”
Dropping the cutters in the bin, I turn back towards her. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Well, I have to live vicariously through someone! Since you’re going to be working here with me and you’re the one getting hit on by a hot guy, it’s going to be you.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the last sister for you to try to live through, Pay. Look at me. I’m a twenty-nine year old woman with no goals, no future, and who lives at home with her father and grandparents. Not exactly a lot of excitement here.”
“I’m proud of you, Jaime. I know it’s been a rough six months with everything with Gavin then moving home and all.”
“Just because I’m finally working doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into a relationship again with both feet.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?” she prods.
I think about those words for several minutes while finishing up the checklist of closing tasks. It has been a horrible six months, many of those days and nights spent crying over a broken heart. I’m certain I’m nowhere near ready for a relationship, but something else? Dating? Am I ready for that?
Exhaling deeply, I face where my sister is finishing up her paperwork. Leaning my hip against the counter, I say, “He was gorgeous. Like cover model for romance novels gorgeous. He had dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He kept staring at me like he wanted to eat me, and…it was…nice. He asked me for my name,” I say, whispering that last sentence.
“Did you give it to him?”
Shaking my head, I answer. “No.”
“Well, maybe he’ll be back and maybe he won’t. The point is you felt something. It made you feel good that he flirted a little. And
that is step two in Grandma’s five step system.”
Groaning, I ask the burning question. “Do I even want to know what these five steps are from the woman who still sunbathes naked on a regular basis?”
“Step one is getting out of the house, which you can check off the list, since I know how much you love lists. Step two is to find a guy and engage in a little flirting and conversation.”
“What’s step three?” I ask, unable to hide my smile. My grandma is the most eclectic woman I’ve ever known. She’s brash and honest and funny as hell. And when you add in my grandpa, all bets are off.
“Step three is to engage in mattress acrobatics,” Payton states before bursting out laughing, followed quickly by my own.
“Mattress acrobatics? Step three is sex? Are you kidding? What’s step four and five?”
“I have no clue. She never gets past the sex.”
Laughter fills the small shop. For seventy-year-old grandparents, ours seem to still enjoy a healthy sex life. I can’t even stomach thinking about how many times we’ve been woken up in the middle of the night by their acrobatics. Each of us girls have busted them fornicating somewhere around the house or property. And believe me, it’s not a sight you want stuck in your head if at all possible!
“Listen, it’s way past closing. Why don’t you head home and I’ll finish up?” she offers while gathering up the receipts and printouts.
I hang my apron on the hook and grab my purse. Before I reach the back door, I give her my attention once more. “Hey, thank you again for hiring me. I know you could have found someone with some experience, so I appreciate it.”
“No one has floral experience, Jaime. I’d either have hired an older woman who thinks she knows everything already or a teenager who’s on her cell phone all day and doesn’t complain about making minimum wage.”
“Well, I still really appreciate it,” I say as I start to walk out the door.
“Hey, Jaime?” Payton hollers, causing me to turn back around. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” My smile is wide as I slip out the back door and wait until I hear the lock engage.
I slide into my used Honda and head towards home. I can’t help but glance at the side of the street in front of the shop where Mr. Handsome and Sinful was parked just a bit ago. I’m sure I’ll never see him again, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about him.
I have plenty of things on my list to focus on right now. Nowhere on that checklist is anything about flirting with a gorgeous stranger. Instead, my list comprises of getting a job, saving money for an apartment, and being able to buy my own groceries. All things that I haven’t done since I left Cleveland with barely a handful of pennies to my name. Hell, most of those things I haven’t done since well before I left Ohio. When I was with Gavin, we shared the same dream. Marriage, kids, house, and therefore he was the breadwinner for the last few years.
At least I thought it was the same dream.
As I pull into the long driveway that leads to my childhood home, I push all thoughts of Gavin and his deceitfulness out of my mind. That ship has sailed, and I’m determined to keep my focus on moving forward, not looking and reflecting back.
Still, it’s hard when your entire life was thought to be one way, only to find it wasn’t really like that at all. It’s a hard pill to swallow.
But, that’s part of the past I’m trying to finally overcome. It’s what I’m desperately trying to get away from. Something to eventually cross off the list.
I’ll get there, one step at a time.
***
Friday afternoon has finally arrived. My first week at Blossoms and Blooms has been a steady stream of walk-in customers, funeral arrangements, and helium filled birthday balloons. I’ve been manning the counter and working on perfecting my arrangements while Payton handles the deliveries. Of course, when she comes back, she politely explains why you can’t put gerbera daisies with freesia, and disassembles my arrangement.
Whatever.
Payton just left for another delivery when the bell above the door jingles. I’m adding the finishing touches to a dozen long-stemmed red roses when I glance over my shoulder. I’m shocked when I see who my next customer is. Pleasantly shocked.
I’m greeted with a warm smile and those twinkling brown eyes. My breath hitches in my throat as his gaze drops to my ass and slowly starts to climb back up. I should probably turn around and nip this in the bud, but I don’t. I can’t.
“Can I help you?” I finally ask when I find my voice.
His eyes have yet to make their way back up to my face, so I make sure to plaster on my best annoyed look. When brown eyes finally lock on mine, I falter. My well-planned irritated appearance evaporates into thin air. Poof. Gone.
“Just the woman I was looking for. I’m in need of something and I believe you’re the only one to give it to me.”
Damn him! My heart rate is nearing stroke level and my breathing continually hitches in my dry throat.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but I’m certain I can only help you with flowers.” My reply almost sounds foreign, even to my own ears.
“I’d love to get some more of your…flowers,” he says with that damn smirk as he leans against the counter.
“Well, I’m sure you could find what you’re looking for in the case,” I sass, pointing to the display case before returning my attention towards the roses.
When I add the final sprig of baby’s breath, I dust off my hands on my green apron. I also realize Mr. Smirks-a-lot isn’t over at the case. As if I could feel his eyes crawling all over my body, I know instantly that he’s still behind me. But the crazy thing is that I don’t feel creeped out by his attention and wandering eyes. Instead, I feel empowered.
Turning around, I return my gaze to his. Sudden need stirs to life between my legs, forcing me to squeeze them closed in an attempt to alleviate the ache. Or ignore it. I could try that, but I don’t think it’s possible.
“How much for the roses?” he asks.
“These? I thought you didn’t do roses. Red roses signify commitment,” I tell him as I make my way towards the cooler.
“True, but maybe that’s what I’m after this time,” he says as he falls in line with me.
“Really? From a colorful bouquet to red roses in only five days? Your friend must really be someone special,” I reply, ignoring the taste in my mouth that resembles the bitterness of jealousy.
“Different friend. A good friend.”
I just get the vase situated on the shelf when his words sink in. Really? Is this man really in here buying flowers for a different woman already? And roses? My gut churns like butter as I gape at him.
“Can I get the roses?” he asks sweetly with that sexy as sin smile.
“Sure,” I mumble, retrieving the arrangement I just set in the case not ten seconds ago.
I hit the buttons on the cash register a little too hard, unable to hide my annoyance. I’m tempted to charge the pig double just for spite. It’s the least I can do for the other woman.
“Thirty-nine ninety-five.”
He whistles as he pulls two more twenties out of his wallet. I try not to, but my gaze automatically drops to his driver’s license. Unfortunately, I’m unable to see anything other than a peek at his photo. A nice photo. Dammit.
“Thank you,” I reply, dropping a nickel into his outstretched hand.
I’m not quick enough at pulling my hand back, however, and the man’s hand snatches closed, grabbing my hand along with his change. I gasp aloud by the sudden movement, as warmth blankets my hand. Fire shoots straight up my arm, sizzling and crackling its way through every extremity.
His hands are large and calloused, and all I can think about is what they’d feel like against my body. An uncontrollable shudder rakes through me. I’m trapped in the heat of his gaze, like gravity pulling me towards him, and I don’t even attempt to pull away. It’s futile.
After holding my hand for several sexually charged seconds, he finally releases me. I step back, trying to put as much distance between him and the overwhelming desire I feel for him. If I don’t retreat quickly, I’m likely to try to climb him like a tree. And since I’m apparently not the only one doing the climbing, he’s liable to leave me with a bad bark-burn when I’m done.
Grabbing the vase, I push it towards him. The faster I can get him out of the shop, the better. I have no idea why I can’t seem to keep it together in his presence, but I can’t. I’m like a teenager with a crush on the captain of the football team, all jittery and stuttery. It’s embarrassing, really. What twenty-nine-year-old has this hard of a time communicating with another human being?
“Thank you.” Those two words, deep and rich, are accompanied by another smile. This one’s full wattage, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice smile. Award-winning, actually. But knowing that he’s here (for the second time this week) buying flowers (for the second woman this week) and he’s still shamelessly flirting with me, doesn’t really settle well with me, you know?
So, instead of smiling back at him, I cross my arms and glare. I’m sure my sister would have a heart attack if she knew I was scowling at her customers, but there’s something about this shmuck that ruffles my feathers. A gorgeous shmuck, sure, but a schmuck nonetheless.
He grabs the vase, offers me a wink, and struts towards the door. His jeans are more worn than the last pair and his work boots scuffed and dusty. The polo shirt is replaced with a tight-fitting tee that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I shamelessly watch as he makes his way towards the front of the shop. Traitorous eyes.
When I realize he has stopped, I quickly avert my gaze upward, but it’s too late. He clearly saw me checking him out. Again. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I focus on anything other than the man at the front door. When he still makes no move to exit, I slowly return my sights on him. His smile is small and almost carries more of a wallop than that damn smirk.
