Nip it in the Bud (Bunch-A-Blooms)

by Shyla Colt

  “Is she pretty?” Neomi asks.

  I chuckle. “I think she’s beautiful.”

  “What does she do?” Ilana asks.

  “She co-runs a floral shop.”

  “Does she have kids?” Neomi asks. Her hazel-colored eyes are wide and full of worry.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “But she likes them?” Ilana adds.

  I smile. “Very much so. I wanted to bring up the idea of meeting her with you before I asked her.”

  “Meet her?” Ilana asks, stunned.

  I nod my head. “I think it’s time. If you feel up to it.”

  They share a glance I know has communicated sentences.

  “You don’t have to answer me yet. Think on it, okay?”

  They nod.

  “Now the casserole should be ready to serve.” I stand and move to dish things up.

  The conversation drifts away from me and Willow and onto tests and projects. I’d never let the girl see, but I’m sweating bullets. I’ve never gotten to this stage with anyone else, so it’s a first for me, too. If my girls and Willow don’t click, my plans are going to come to a screeching halt. I need you to work this out for me, God, ’cause I can’t see life without Willow. That woman has crept under my skin and changed my life for the better. I thought I was fulfilled before, but I was wrong.

  ***

  Thank you, God, for Pinterest. I smooth the white linen tablecloth over the table and add a wide crystal vase I’ve filled with pink and white peonies. Big ups to my memory and the woman who helped me at Bed Bath & Beyond. I’d left the studio and run errands to prep for tonight. The girls have an in-service day at school, so they’re staying the evening with Mom. They know I’m seeing Willow. I haven’t heard from Monica yet about the Involuntary Removal of Parental Rights, but I know it’s only a matter of time. She’s not known for biting her tongue, so I’m assuming the mail is slow.

  I place the white square plates in front of our seats along with the beige linen napkins I’ve wrapped in a simple silver napkin holder and folded into a fan. Who knew the time I put in as a waiter would pay off? Before I landed a contract, I worked two, sometimes three jobs to make a living and still have a flexible schedule. Satisfied, I nod at my work. Not bad. I move to the kitchen and wash my hands. I keep busy, preparing the Skillet Lasagna, and lose myself in the task, grateful for the silence in my head.

  My head is a six-lane highway. There’s always traffic and more accidents than I want to admit. I’ve learned to cope with it by focusing completely on one task at a time when I can. I pop the skillet into the oven, place the garlic bread on a cookie sheet, and move to get dressed.

  When I open the door an hour later, I damn near swallow my tongue. She’s an angel in a white lace skirt that skims her mid-thigh in jagged points and a low-cut V-shaped white tank top. My fingers itch to trace her curves and run across her sienna-colored skin. She’s a bronze goddess ready to be worshiped. It’s all I can do not to go to my knees and taste her skin.

  Clearing my throat, I step back to allow her to come inside. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiles up at me. “Thank you.”

  I lock the door and lose the battle with myself. Cupping her face, I back her against the door. “I tried to be a gentleman, but you seem to weaken my resolve.” I take her lips. She matches me in intensity. Her sweetness dances across my tongue. She’s an intoxicant. Our tongues circle one another, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I tilt my head and deepen the kiss, hungry for more. Her light and citrusy scent envelopes me. The soft curves of her frame press into mine.

  She wraps her long fingers around my neck, tickling the hair at my nape. Trailing my hands down her frame, I grip her hips. I nip her full bottom lip and groan.

  “What?” she asks breathlessly.

  “I want to touch you.” I trail my fingertips over the hem of her skirt.

  “So touch me.”

  I slip my fingers under her skirt. The heat pouring off her nearly singes me. “You’re so hot.”

  “And wet,” she whispers.

  Creeping up her inner thigh, I brush against a soft pair of drenched panties.

  “Yes,” she whispers. She leans back against the door. I watch her from beneath heavy lids as she comes to life beneath my hands. I circle her swollen clit through the silk, and she rocks her hips.

  “Drew, please,” she whispers against my lips.

  I slip my fingers inside the side of her panties and she jerks.

  Leaning forward, I capture her cries as I roll her slick bud between two fingers. Her sticky heat has me straining against my slacks and leaking. I can’t remember the last time I was this intimate with a woman. I ease a finger inside her tight sheath, and she shatters, pulsing around me. I rest my forehead against hers and grit my teeth to keep my composure. I’m a man starved, and she’s filet mignon.

  Removing my finger, I bring it to my mouth, tasting her salty sweet honey. I moan as I clean my fingers. Her eyelids flutter up, and she watches me with passion-darkened eyes.

  “Every part of you is sweet, Willow.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  I kiss her forehead and smooth down her dress. “Now that I had an appetizer, how about dinner?”

  “What about you?” She cups me through my jeans, and I grit my teeth to keep from exploding in my pants.

  My muscles flex. “This was for you.”

  After pushing me back, she sinks to her knees. “And now it’s for you.”

  I shudder, unable to speak as my mouth goes dry and my cock jumps as she unzips my pants and frees me. The sight of her long, slender fingers wrapped around my base is the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in a long time. We’re blurring the lines, but I’m a man, not a saint. The only thing keeping me from taking her against the wall is my promise. My girls should’ve died, and yet they were spared. I’m not dicking with that.

  Her tongue darts out to circle my tip and all thoughts leave my head. Her eyes dance with mirth as she continues her exploration, trailing her tongue over every inch of my swollen dick. She’s a snake charmer, and I’m captured under the spell she’s woven with her eyes and her mouth. Sucking me into her mouth, she hums, and I thrust forward, unable to stop. She takes me to the back of her throat, suctioning hard. I tremble. It’s been too long.

  “Willow,” I grunt.

  “Mmmhmm.” She nods her approval. I grip her hair and guide her. I’m like a teen getting his dick wet for the first time. I know I’m not going to last. Not when she’s so wet and hot around me. I pump faster as the pressure builds and my spine tingles. My balls draw up.

  “I’m going to come.”

  She gives another hum, and I explode, filling her welcoming mouth as she sucks me down greedily. Spent, I place a hand on the door to keep myself upright. We never even made it from in front of the door. I’m in quicksand and sinking fast. She cleans me with her tongue before tucking me back into my pants and rezipping them.

  “Now we’ve both had our pre-dinner treat. I’m starving.” I push off from the wall and offer her my hand. After helping her stand, I lead her into the kitchen. I pop the garlic bread in the oven, then take out the Stella Artois.

  “A man after my own heart,” she says as we clink bottles.

  “I’m good at remembering the small things.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I told the girls about you this week.”

  She pauses. “You did? What did they say?”

  “They were shocked but not opposed to it. I asked them if they wanted to meet you.”

  “Oh?” Her voice shook.

  “They’re thinking about it. I told them to take their time answering. Are you still on board with it?”

  She nods. “I am. I just … I’ve never done this before.”

  I reach my hand across the table and give hers a squeeze. “Neither have I. The other women I dated never got to the meet the kids stage.”

  Her lips quirk upward. “So, you’r
e telling me I’m a special case?”

  “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

  The timer dings, saving me from saying too much. “Dinner’s ready.”

  ***

  Willow

  “Okay, what’s the emergency?” Olive asks as she enters the room, completing the trio I’ve assembled with the promise of breakfast.

  “I’m meeting Drew’s girls today.”

  “Oh, crap,” Petunia whispers.

  “Umm, yeah. Now you see why I’m trying not to lose it.”

  “It’s time, babe. You’re about to hit … what, the four-month mark in a few weeks?”

  “I know. I’m just nervous. They’ve got trust issues, understandably considering their mother. But still.”

  “What did Drew say?” Olive asks.

  “Not to take it personally if they freeze me out at first,” I say.

  “So you know they’re slow to warm up to women. You’re an amazing person, all you have to do is be you.”

  “Ugh.” I shake my head. “They’re Drew’s world. If they don’t like me, that’s it.” I draw my pointer finger across my throat.

  “Girl, they’re not baby pirates,” Petunia says.

  “Ha, that you know of.”

  “Breathe, babe. Have you eaten yet?” Olive asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m too nervous.”

  “Where are you going?” Petunia inquires as I dish up stacks of fluffy, blueberry pancakes.

  “The butterfly show at the Khron Conservatory.”

  “Oh, that’ll be fun!” Olive exclaims.

  “You think so? I mean, they’re ten, maybe they’re not into it.” I shrug.

  “No, I’m a grown woman, and I love it. You’ll be fine.” Olive waves her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  “You guys, I thought I was ready for this, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “It’d be abnormal for you not to be nervous. You’re really into this guy, and kids can make or break any relationship. We know those girls are lucky to have you in their life, and soon enough they will, too.” Petunia leans across the counter and squeezes my hand.

  I narrow my gaze. “So you approve of Drew now?”

  “It was never him I was worried about as much as his life. He’s got a lot going on … I mean, when does he go back on the road?”

  “A couple more months,” I say with a sigh. The thought of not seeing his face on a regular basis is a dark cloud covering the sun.

  “Mmm hmm. I’m not saying it’ll be easy because that would be a lie. But I’ll say this: if you guys are as committed as you looked the other day, you can pull it off. Mason really liked him.” Petunia offers me a shy smile. I know it’s the start of an apology.

  “Drew liked him, too. He won’t let the Spice Girls’ video footage drop.”

  Olive laughs. “I can’t remember the last time we even watched it. Have a seat and eat with us. It’ll be better meeting them on a full stomach.”

  “You’re right.” I push a plate toward Olive and make one of my own. Sitting between them, I take a deep breath and force myself to eat.

  “I think it’s sweet you’re so nervous. You’re so into this guy,” Olive says as we talk around bites.

  “I think he’s my one,” I whisper the truth, finally admitting the secret I’ve been holding close to my chest.

  “Whoa,” Petunia whispers.

  “I knew it,” Olive says.

  “How?”

  “It’s in the way you two look at each other like no one else exists. You still haven’t bumped uglies, right?” Olive asks.

  “No.”

  “Then how will you know if there’s a spark? What if you aren’t sexually compatible?” Petunia asks.

  I clear my throat. “Trust me, we are. There’s a lot of other things you can do that aren’t intercourse. The man sets me on fire and has no problems pleasing me.”

  “Oh, shit,” Olive whispers.

  “Well damn,” Petunia replies.

  “When we come together it’s going to be life-altering. No man has made me feel the way he does.”

  Olive fans her face. “Girl.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe there’s something to waiting. When we come together, it’s going to be special and with my best friend who I know inside and out.” I shrug, unable to fully convey the way it makes me feel.

  “And you don’t feel like you’re missing out?” Olive asks.

  “On what? It’s not like I had random hookups before him. I would still be celibate, only with no end of the drought in sight.”

  Petunia snorts. “Drought.”

  “Well, it was a dry time … literally.”

  I feel my panic recede as we giggle.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Olive asks.

  “Much. Thank you, girls, for coming over.”

  “That’s friends are for,” Olive says.

  “What she said, plus pancakes were promised.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I say.

  “What? Pregnant woman.” She points to herself, and I shake my head. This is my crew, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

  “Are you meeting them there?”

  “No, they’re picking me up around noon.”

  “That gives us enough time to help you pick out an outfit. Come on, let’s do the dishes, so we can get you ready.”

  A few hours later, I answer the door feeling ready to face whatever the day has in store for me.

  “You look great,” Drew says as he kisses my cheek.

  “Thank you.” I step outside and see two girls with dark curls and skin the color of coffee with a healthy dollop of cream. “Oh! Is … their mom black like me?”

  “No.” He shakes his head, and my eyes widen. Then how?

  “Biologically, they’re not mine. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to tell you that.”

  The truth pitches me over the edge of like into love. He took these girls on as his own responsibility sacrificed and raised them when he didn’t have to. In a day and age where plenty of biological fathers shirk their responsibility, he stands heads above the rest.

  “You’re amazing, Drew.”

  He tenses. “They’re mine just the same.”

  I nod my head. “I know they are.”

  He relaxes, and we head to the car.

  “Girls, this is Willow. Willow, this is Ilana and Neomi.” At first glance they look identical, but I know in time I’ll learn to tell them apart. For now, I make a note of the fact that Neomi has a ponytail, and Ilana has a French braid.

  “Hi Ms. Willow,” they chime. Their eyes are guarded, but not openly hostile. I can work with this.

  “It’s nice to meet you, girls.”

  “You too.” They’re polite but clearly skeptical. I can’t blame them.

  “I haven’t been to the butterfly show in a long time, so I’m excited.”

  “You work in a flower shop, right?” Neomi asks.

  “I do.”

  “Why don’t you have flowers in front of your house?”

  I laugh. “Because the flowers in the shop demand all my attention. Sadly, anything other than succulents, which don’t require a lot of care, would die with me in charge of them because of my schedule. We grow a lot of our own flowers at Bunch-A-Blooms, so I have a garden in a way.”

  “Oh, that’s cool,” Neomi says.

  Drew pulls out of the driveway, and the conversation fades as we hit the highway and music fills the cab.

  ***

  I can’t hide my excitement over the flowers as we step inside the massive greenhouse with a giant Monarch butterfly. The theme changes yearly, but Monarchs have always been my favorite.

  “I bet you girls anything, Willow is going to geek out over the flowers,” Drew teases.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I’m kind of in my element.”

  “Look at the butterfly sculptures,” Ilana exclaims as she points up at the neon green, pink, and blue butterfly hanging above our hea
d.

  “I wonder what they’re made of,” Neomi replies.

  I meet Drew’s gaze, and he grins.

  “How do they get them in here?” Ilana asks.

  “I’m not sure,” Drew states.

  “It’s a combination of the right flowers that attract and provide food, and if you look at the dishes they have out, butterfly food,” I answer. The greenhouse is a magical wonderland full of colorful flowers, butterfly art, and the stars: butterflies. A Monarch flutters over and lands on Ilana’s shoulder.

  “Oh my gosh, take a picture, Drew,” I whisper.

  He snaps a few as she beams.

  “Sissy, it likes you,” Neomi whispers.

  “We have to enter that into the contest they have going. Maybe we’ll win,” I say. The Monarch moves on to a flower and the magical moment passes.

  “Ms. Willow, what kind of flowers are those?” Ilana points to the pink flowers with yellow centers.

  “Oh, those are Asters.”

  We move deeper into the greenhouse, careful to explore every nook and cranny, so we don’t miss anything. I enjoy answering their flower questions. It breaks the ice and places us on common ground. Seeing Drew with his daughters shows another side of him that’s easy to love. He gives them his full attention and the adoration in his eyes is a beautiful thing. I snap a few shots of them as they all examine a pretty blue and brown butterfly. The girls are polite and precious. Intelligent, and sweet-natured, Neomi has more sass, while Ilana seems more introverted.

  “I think this is going well,” Drew says as we wait for the girls to return from the restroom.

  “I think so, too.” I tilt my head up, and he gives me a sweet kiss. “I was nervous.”

  He hugs me to his side. “You shouldn’t be. You’re doing great with them.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nods. “If they didn’t like you, you’d feel it, believe me.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment then.”

  The girls return, and we step away from each other. I don’t miss their narrowed gaze. They’re not used to sharing their dad.

  “Are you guys getting hungry? I thought we could go somewhere for an early dinner,” Drew says.