by Anders Grey
Faking Alec
Blooming Desire Book 1
Anders Grey
Copyright © 2019 by Anders Grey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Proofread by Beverly Bernard Editing
Cover Design by Cosmic Letterz
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Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Rowan
2. Alec
3. Rowan
4. Alec
5. Rowan
6. Alec
7. Rowan
8. Alec
9. Rowan
10. Alec
11. Rowan
12. Alec
13. Rowan
14. Alec
15. Rowan
16. Alec
17. Rowan
18. Alec
19. Rowan
20. Alec
21. Rowan
22. Alec
23. Rowan
24. Alec
25. Rowan
26. Alec
27. Rowan
28. Alec
29. Rowan
30. Alec
31. Rowan
32. Alec
33. Rowan
34. Epilogue: Alec
About the Author
Also by Anders Grey
1
Rowan
The flower shop was serenely quiet. The soft scents of hundreds of flowers wafted in the air like a beautiful song. Everywhere I looked was lush and green, alive and vibrant with thriving plant life. I didn’t need to be around other people when I had my flowers. Here at Rosecreek Florist, I was home.
I shut my eyes to partake in the moment of tranquility. I smelled the rose in front of me when the silence was broken by the tinkling bell of the front door being opened.
My eye twitched as I was brought out of my reverie. But when I glanced towards the door, my heart stuttered. The man who just entered the nursery must’ve been in his late twenties or early thirties, close to my age. His light hair appeared windswept, though there was barely a breeze outside, meaning he styled it like that on purpose. He was tall and long-limbed. I watched as he quickly realized he needed to tuck his elbows in to prevent knocking over bouquets and vases everywhere. His eyes were keen, and he had a rugged, untamed quality about him that reminded me of a wild stallion.
You know the saying bull in a china shop? Well, for the sake of all the new product I just got in, I hoped this guy wasn’t a horse in a flower shop.
When the man met my eye, he smiled. I quickly returned the favor.
Yes, he’s hot, but he’s also a customer, so back off, Rowan, I told myself.
“Hi, there,” I said. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
Men of his age and attractiveness usually only wanted to buy one thing from a flower shop—roses. Not because they actually appreciated roses, but they were the most obvious statement of love. Generic but safe. A great way to get into someone’s pants for lazy courters.
“Thanks.” He winked at me. “But I’m just browsing.”
“Sure thing.”
Who the hell winks at people?
Since he didn’t need my help, I went back to my current bouquet order. I pruned the dead petals off the geraniums. The finicky things were always shedding everywhere. My attention was so focused on the geranium debris littering the counter that I didn’t notice the stranger approach until he was right in front of me.
“Yes?” I asked, remembering to put on a smile. I just hoped it didn’t look like a grimace.
The man’s smile was definitely not a grimace, though. It practically beamed. He radiated charm, and I had no doubt his grin was genuine.
“So…” His eyes flicked to my nametag. “Rowan.”
“Yes, man whose name I don’t know?”
He chuckled. “Not to sound too forward, but it’s kind of cute that your name is Rowan and you work in a flower shop.”
“I don’t just work here. I own it.” Too curious to let it slide, I took the bait. “And how is it cute?”
“Rowans are a type of tree, aren’t they?”
That surprised me. “It is. Not many people know that.”
At least, not sexy twenty-something guys like you.
“Anyway, Rowan, you seem like the type of guy who could answer my question,” he began, putting a hand on his hip. The movement shifted the strap across his chest, drawing my eye to the canvas pouch there.
He had a motive after all. “Ah, so you weren’t just browsing.”
“Hey, I did some browsing,” he argued, smiling. “Anyway, where could a photographer from out-of-town find the fabled Rosecreek Gardens?”
A photographer? That explains the basic plant knowledge, I thought. He must’ve picked up a few things in his line of work. Not that knowing a rowan is a tree is particularly impressive.
“Well, Mr. Photographer, you could find the Gardens right down the street, beyond the big gate. Can’t miss the signs.”
He nodded. “But not inside the gate, right?”
“Nope.”
The name was a bit of a misnomer, since the Rosecreek Gardens were actually located outside the gated Rosecreek community. I supposed my shop’s name—The Rosecreek Florist—was also misleading, since it wasn’t inside the community either. Hell, I didn’t even live there. Too fancy. But I guess if anyone asked, the fact that I grew up there should’ve been good enough to piggyback off the branding.
I wondered if Mr. Photographer actually had missed the signs or if he knew damn well where the Gardens were and was just using this as an excuse to talk to me. I almost snorted as I mentally laughed off that idea. Who would need an excuse to talk to me? I was barely worth having a conversation with. I gave the guy five seconds before he walked out of the store and promptly forgot about this interaction.
“Thanks.” Another wink. I wondered if he had a nervous tic because normal people didn’t wink this much. “I’ll head on over after I do a bit more browsing.”
I nodded as he strode off to examine the colorful row of petunias down the aisle. Petunias were a nice, hardy bunch of flowers. Good for a beginner. Part of me wanted to open my mouth and tell him that, but since he hadn’t asked for my input, I kept it to myself.
Our conversation was already over, and once he left, I could return to my solitude in peace.
The bell on the front door rang again, but this time it was accompanied by the loud smack of the door hitting the opposite wall. I nearly jumped a foot in the air before I realized only one person entered the shop like that. I swallowed a groan.
“Rowan!” Mom called in a voice that shattered the quiet instantly.
I faced my mother, Kaitlyn, with a sigh. “Yes, Mom?”
Her cheeks were pink from either exertion or excitement. Judging by the fact that I could hear her SUV engine idling outside, so I know she didn’t walk here, I guessed the latter.
As much as I loved my mom, I wasn’t terribly excited to see her because her presence at the shop—or any other time in my life, for that matter—was always about one thing: trying to set me up with somebody. I was in a decent mood from my brief interaction with Sexy Photographer, but it threatened to plummet now as Mom hurried towards me with that telltale I-have-the-greatest-idea face.
Did I appreciate her effort? Yes. Did I want to hear about some random Joe Schmoe who I had nothing in common with for the millionth time? Hell no.
I knew I was being a little rude, even if it was in my head and not directly to her face. At lea
st Mom accepted me as a gay man and never tried to set me up with women. But that didn’t mean I was interested in her proposed male suitors, either.
“Rowan, you’re not going to believe this.”
Here it comes. Get ready to turn her down.
“Your cousin Tiffany is having her wedding in two weeks!” Mom announced.
Well, that wasn’t what I expected to come out of her mouth at all.
“Tiff’s getting married?” I said.
“She planned this huge week-long getaway with tons of events, and get this—the ceremony is being held at the Botanical Gardens.”
Sexy Photographer perked up.
Mom went on, brimming with joy. “Isn’t that exciting? Right up your alley, honey!”
Even though Tiffany was my favorite relative and we loved each other dearly, she and I had clashing personalities. She was an outgoing party animal, and I was very much not. But despite our differences, we’d always shared a love of flowers. I was glad to find out the wedding getaway was being held near the Gardens and not in Las Vegas or something.
“We’re all invited, of course,” Mom continued, “and she gave you a plus one invitation.”
There it was. I swallowed back a sigh so as not to dash her hopes, which were going to end up dashed no matter what.
“But I don’t have anyone to bring,” I said bluntly.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Mom said, crossing her arms smugly.
Uh oh. Here it comes.
“Since I already knew you were going to say that, I went ahead and told Tiffany you were bringing your boyfriend.”
I laughed, but it sounded more like I was choking. “Mom, you know I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Nope. But you’re gonna have one for this party. I told them you were going with Kyle.”
My jaw dropped.
No. Hell no. Fuck no.
“No,” I said bluntly.
“Yes,” Mom insisted.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I forced down the rising bile in my throat. “No, Mom. I am not going with Kyle.”
I would rather die than talk to family-friend-slash-asshole Kyle, much less spend an entire goddamn week with him. But of course, nobody in my family knew what he’d done to me. I’d made sure of it. And now, my secrecy had come back to bite me in the ass. Fuck.
“Rowan,” Mom said with a sigh. “I know you like to hole up with your flowers, but you need to spend more time… you know, with people. Maybe if you did, you’d meet someone you like. You’re getting older now, and—”
“I’m only thirty-one!” I protested, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying it would be good for you to have a partner in life, and you can’t find one without looking.”
“I don’t need a partner,” I said, panic rising in my voice. “And I sure as hell am not going to Tiffany’s wedding with Kyle.”
“Tiffany planned for a very specific number or people,” Mom said. “I already told her you were bringing someone along, and the invitation is for two people.”
My heart turned to lead and sank. Mom’s tone made it clear she was serious. Shit.
“Why Kyle? Why can’t it be someone else?” I asked. I felt mortified for even considering it as an option, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t let it be Kyle. I was stuck.
“It doesn’t have to be Kyle.” Mom shrugged. “I just thought, with your history—”
“Too awkward,” I said firmly, praying it was enough of a reason to dissuade her.
“So if not Kyle, then someone else. Invite a friend. Hell, meet someone on one of those gay dating apps and bring him!”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t horrified. Mom was seriously going to bring Kyle along if I didn’t find someone to take his place. But who could I bring? I was dangerously low on friends. The one plausible option of asking my friend Cain was out, because I knew all my nosy relatives would ask if we were together, and I didn’t want to subject him to that. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to download some app and bring a stranger.
I wished I kept a giant carnivorous plant in the store so I could feed myself to it.
So with no other option, I did the only thing I could think of: I lied.
“I have a boyfriend. I’ll bring him instead.” Lie. “Don’t bring Kyle.”
Mom’s brows raised. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Oh, really? And how long has this been going on?”
“Recent. Not too serious yet, so I didn’t want to tell you.” More lies.
“Rowan!” Mom cried with a happy grin. “Why am I only hearing about this now? Well, tell me about him! What’s his name?”
Fuck. Shit.
Anxiety turned my palms clammy. My mind went blank. Death by carnivorous plant sounded excellent right about now.
I bit my lip and glanced down at the bouquet in front of me. Among the flowers were a few stems of pale roses. I felt a zap of excitement. I knew this specific variety of rose was named after a person. I wracked my brain. Why couldn’t I remember?
Then it hit me.
‘Alec’s White.’ The rose is called Alec’s White!
“Alec,” I said, hoping it sounded confident.
In my panic, I barely noticed Sexy Photographer’s gaze on me.
“Alec,” Mom repeated, mulling the name over. “I like it. Cute name. Is he cute to match?”
“Yes, he is.” Big fat lie, but I was talking about a made-up person, so I guessed it didn’t matter.
Mom narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “This isn’t a joke, right? You aren’t making this up, are you?”
I put on my best poker face. “No. I swear.”
Lying straight to my mother’s face was a new low. Nice going, Rowan.
She huffed out a breath of relief then embraced me in a quick hug. “Oh, I’m so happy. It’s nice to see you putting yourself out there and meeting people, honey.” She pulled back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I’m excited to meet this Alec for myself.”
“He’ll be there at the wedding getaway,” I said with forced enthusiasm.
“I can’t wait!” She practically squealed with joy and then gave me a peck on the cheek before hurrying back to her SUV and driving off. I tried not to wince thinking about all the gas she wasted and air she polluted while talking to me.
Correction: while I concocted my fake story.
I rubbed my temples, hoping I wouldn’t get a stress headache from the mess I’d just gotten myself into. I just needed to get through this shift. After work I’d go home, relax, and get my mind off it. Maybe research giant carnivorous plants big enough to eat a man.
But the thought didn’t help. I was so totally fucked. What the hell was I thinking? Now I had to find a man to pretend to be my goddamn boyfriend for a week or else Mom would know I lied and I’d be stuck with Kyle—and as much as I hated the idea of begging someone to pretend to be my date, I despised the idea of my date being Kyle more.
I pruned a dead branch off a rose with a little more force than necessary. Just as I was fantasizing about faking my death via a mutated plant named Audrey, a voice snapped me back to reality.
“Hey,” the man from earlier said. I’d forgotten he was still here, which only mortified me further since he’d probably overheard the entire conversation. Of course the hot stranger had heard everything.
I shook my head. “Hi. Sorry. What can I do for you?”
There was a strange impish flicker in his eyes. Then my heart stopped at his next words.
“I just wanted to ask. How did you know my name was Alec?”
2
Alec
Accidentally listening in on a family’s personal matters wasn’t something I expected to happen during a brief stop to the local florist. Hearing my own name when Rowan was prompted for the name of his boyfriend was something I expected even less.
How did he know? I hadn’t given him my name, and he
hadn’t seen my business card or my ID. Did he just guess?
Rowan still hadn’t answered my question. He stared up at me, dumbstruck. Since he was busy with his brain short-circuiting, I took a moment to appreciate his handsome features. He was shorter than me and had a smaller frame, but beneath the flowery apron was a surprisingly built chest with toned arms to match. Who knew a guy could get a decent workout dealing with bouquets all day?
His face was even more mesmerizing. His dark hair was endearingly uneven, almost like he cut it himself. His eyes were deep blue and reminded me of a choppy sea. They were sharp, intelligent, and wary. They pulled me in, made me want to know more.
“Um.” Rowan sounded confused. “Your name is Alec?”
“Sure is. But how’d you know?” I raised a brow mischievously. “And I’m wondering if I’m the Alec you mentioned you’re dating to your mom.”
His jaw dropped and a blush lit up his face, spreading to his ears.
“I, no, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean you, I just—” He shut his mouth, looking utterly defeated. “I just picked a name at random, okay? From the roses.”
“The rose is named Alec?”
“Yes. Alec’s White. It’s the name of the variety. I panicked and chose the first thing I could think of.” The blush on Rowan’s face intensified. He was so pale that his skin was practically burning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I chuckled. “Who said I was uncomfortable? If anyone’s uncomfortable, it seems to be you.”
