Coming Up Roses

by Staci Hart

  Tess had always been prickly, but this was a new level of disdain. Never had my very presence seemed to offend someone so deeply. The knowledge rankled me. Really, it was the lack of knowledge that got under my skin. I didn’t know what I’d done—or not done—and I had the distinct feeling that asking her would only end with me getting snapped at and evaded.

  So I’d just have to convince her she was wrong about me. I was charming as fuck, so all I had to do was figure out how. I wondered if donuts would do any good. Everybody liked donuts. I could always try to kiss it out of her, but I had a feeling I’d end up with pruning shears between my ribs.

  “Luke Bennet. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  The sound of Ivy’s voice put a smile back on my face. I’d expected to find her giggling, as she was, and I’d expected her to launch herself into my arms, like she did. What I didn’t expect when I looked down was to find her visibly pregnant.

  I caught her with ease, hugging her for a second before setting her down to get a good look at her. The same bright eyes I remembered, the same red hair. Though unlike Tess’s, which was lush and russet, Ivy’s was copper and curly and wild as she was.

  “Well, would ya look at that?” I said, nodding to her belly.

  She flushed, laughing as she rolled her eyes. “Six months in, an eternity to go. We all knew I’d end up knocked up, didn’t we?”

  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Dean Wilson.” She beamed up at me, resting a hand on the curve of her stomach.

  “The delivery guy?”

  “He runs the company now. Very established,” she said with a wink. “I can’t believe you’re back! God, it’s good to see you.”

  “At least one of you thinks so,” I said, glancing in the direction Tess had gone.

  But Ivy waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s just grumpy this morning.”

  “She was grumpy yesterday too.”

  “Well, you humped her in the cooler.”

  “In fairness, I thought she was you.”

  Ivy laughed. “Well, sadly, I am off the market and in the family way. Tess, however, is not.”

  “Right. She seems super available,” I deadpanned.

  Some mischief flickered behind her eyes. “Oh, don’t let her fool you.”

  My brows gathered in confusion, but when I opened my mouth to speak, she cut me off.

  “So Judy’s already after you, huh?” she asked, nodding at the vases.

  “She’s relentless.”

  “Well, you did sleep with her all summer after senior year.”

  “Ah, the good old days. I’m telling you—the older ladies are always the wildest.”

  “You’re disgusting, Luke,” she said around a laugh.

  I shrugged. “Hey, whatever it takes to save Mom’s shop.”

  “Oh my God. You aren’t actually going to sleep with her, are you?”

  I picked up my box with a smirk. “Depends on which kimono she’s wearing. Always was a sucker for animal print.”

  A bawdy laugh burst out of her, and she swatted my arm. “It’s a comfort that some things never change.”

  I winked at her. “I aim to please. Congrats on the bun, Ivy.”

  “Thanks. See you in a bit. I’ll show you the new register when you get back, okay?”

  “You bet.”

  I made my way into the shop, past the tables where Tess worked with the laser-focus of a bomb disposal tech. She ignored me completely even though I stared a hole in her. It was impressive, the determination she maintained to pretend like I didn’t exist.

  Donuts. I was one hundred percent bringing donuts back with me.

  I didn’t get the animosity, and frankly, that made me feel like a dumbshit. By my estimation, I’d never been anything but nice to her, if not a touch too flirtatious, which was something I really didn’t get. Who didn’t like getting flirted with? I mean, barring breaching the line of comfort. Maybe Tess’s line was just much farther out than most.

  I thought back over yesterday and the cooler incident, replaying the encounter and the conversation that had followed. The best I could come up with was that I’d caught her off guard—not only with the groping, but with the news that we’d be working together, which seemed to have thrown her contempt in an amplifier cranked to eleven. I would have been surprised Mom hadn’t told Tess I’d be working the counter if she wasn’t so scatterbrained. Mom could tell me the name, phone number, and pedigree of every single woman in a ten-block radius who would make good marriage material but couldn’t recall the date on any given day.

  I’d surprised Tess, and she wasn’t the kind of girl who liked surprises. I made a mental note to find out why so I could change her mind about that too.

  There was nothing in the world like adventure. There was nothing so sweet as discovery. The unknown, the new, only broadened our lives, made us better. Taught us. Made us more than we were. I sought it at every turn, craved it with every sunrise. California had been a feast, from the people to the jobs, the food to the lifestyle. I’d had jobs ranging from glass blower to stunt man. I worked with a contractor buddy, renovating houses. Was an extra on TV. At one point, I’d even modeled baseball pants for Dick’s Sporting Goods, which had left me fielding cracks from my brothers for … well, I was still fielding them years later.

  I wanted to learn everything, wanted to experience it all. I couldn’t imagine living a life like Tess, in the same job—her only job—for ten years. Monotony sounded like death, a life that would slowly chip away at my soul until there was nothing left but a husk punching a clock every day.

  I couldn’t understand how anyone would choose that life.

  Marcus said I was undisciplined, a flake. Hedonistic and selfish. But then again, Marcus had eaten a peanut butter sandwich with a banana every single day through high school without ever questioning how weird that was. As such, his argument was invalid.

  I passed through the double doors that led to the greenhouse, the humid air thick and sticky. It smelled like earth, like damp leaves and living things, and I took an instinctive breath to fill my lungs with its rich perfume.

  Dad hefted himself to stand—a motion that seemed to take more effort than I remembered him requiring. He hooked a small spade in his belt and dusted off his hands.

  “I see you’ve been summoned,” he said with a smirk and a nod at the box in my hands.

  A laugh burst out of Kash, and he leaned on the handle of his hoe. “Judy sure didn’t waste any time.”

  “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who called her and told her I was back,” I said, adjusting my grip on the box.

  “Who, me?” he asked innocently. “Never.”

  I snorted.

  “Pretty sure Laney’s planning to put out an ad announcing your return,” Kash said. “She’s got a couple pictures picked out for the spread. There’s a good one of you hauling potted palms with no shirt on that’s in the running. But I voted for the one of you at four, bare-assed in a planter box.”

  Dad nodded his appreciation. “I think I’ve got one of you shoveling the garden with nothing but Laney’s pink rain boots on.”

  I gave them both a look. “You act like I’m not the first to suggest objectifying myself. Feel free to post all the nudes you want, if it’ll help sell flowers. I’m still waiting on word about the naked sandwich board. Just let me know a couple of days in advance so I can cut back on my salt intake.”

  Kash rolled his eyes. “There he is. Good old Luke.” As I headed for the back door, he added, “Don’t let Judy scratch you up. We need you camera ready!”

  If I’d had a free hand, I would have flipped him off. As it was, I opened the door with my elbow and stepped into the alley.

  A small driveway led to the greenhouse, and in it sat the delivery van, painted with a bouquet and the words Longbourne Flower Shop on the side. I don’t think Mom had filled the van up in years for a delivery beyond the occasional wedding.

  As I
turned the key and left for Judy’s, I felt a spark of determination to see that change. Even if I really did have to get out on the sidewalk in a sandwich board.

  When I was a kid, the shop had been the cornerstone of an empire with a handful of stores spread all over the city. Dozens of employees, several full-time delivery drivers, a constant whirl of action. It was never quiet, nor was it empty. But now … now, it was deserted. Passersby didn’t stop at the windows, didn’t pop inside to take a look. As classic as the shop was, it wasn’t timeless—it was dated and dark and dull. There was nothing fresh about it, nothing new. Nothing to catch the eye of a man on his way to his girlfriend or a woman looking to bring something fresh into her home.

  The truth was, since its establishment, the store had largely taken care of itself, providing the business needed to expand without much tending. My grandmother had been the one with the business mind, a trait she had not passed on to her daughter.

  And when technology rose, Longbourne was left in the dust. Ecommerce. Social media. Big-box delivery companies. The old way of doing things died, and Longbourne withered from the drastic shift in the weather.

  For years, Mom convinced us everything was fine, and we were too busy living our own lives to acknowledge it wasn’t. We started losing weddings to Bower Bouquets. The shops began to close one by one as Longbourne retreated in an attempt to stay afloat. Our inquiries and attempts to help were brushed aside.

  It wasn’t until only the flagship store was left and our trust funds, which the accountant deposited in monthly based on the shop’s income, began to dwindle that Marcus finally approached Mom.

  What he found was shocking.

  The family accountant and shitty, outdated business advisor—who was older than actual dirt, by the way—had done a piss-poor job advising them and sent them not only into deep tax debt, but had inadvertently misled them as to the state of the estate.

  So Marcus used his substantial wealth to invest in the shop, buying it from Mom so she could “retire”—which she had done very little of—and then called us all home to help. We had to save the shop, not only for Mom and our legacy, but for Marcus’s sacrifice and the future of our inheritance.

  We had a long way to go, and each of us had our parts. Though mine was unclear—I’d been tapped to come back and be the shop patsy, the bulk of my responsibility seeming to revolve around menial tasks with little to no stakes. Like deliveries.

  But they’d forgotten that I was an idea guy. I just wasn’t a get-it-done guy.

  By the time I pulled up to Judy’s building, my imagination had painted a picture of all the things we could do, all the ways we could update the shop, ideas bubbling like a stream. So much so, before I got out of the van, I fired off a text to my siblings, calling a meeting—kids only. Tonight, after Mom and Dad went to bed, we’d formulate a plan.

  My mind wandered as I trotted up the steps, making more important plans to pick up donuts and coffee on my way back. I wondered briefly if I could make Tess smile with my offering, then remembered myself, shooting instead to get her to stop insulting me.

  I hitched the box on my hip and knocked on the familiar door, which opened before my hand returned to my side.

  Zebra print. Should have made a bet with Kash.

  Judy stretched her arm, her face twisted in a seductive smile, silk kimono sliding off one shoulder. “Why, hello, Luke.”

  “Special delivery,” I said, amused. “Where do you want it?”

  “Anywhere you’ll give it to me,” she said, grabbing a handful of my shirtfront to drag me inside.

  And with a laugh, I let her.

  TESS

  “What in the world did that hydrangea ever do to you?”

  When I looked up, Ivy was smirking at me from the other side of my table. I’d been too busy fuming to notice her approach.

  “Guess it was just too pretty,” I said, snipping a branch and depositing it in the water bucket.

  “Like somebody else we know,” she teased.

  “I can’t imagine what you mean, Ivy Parker.” Snip. Dunk. Fume.

  She gave me a look as she picked up a pair of shears. “Tess, it’s been ten years. You haven’t even seen him in five.”

  “I know,” I huffed.

  “Surely you can’t still be mad.”

  I plunked my shears down on the table and gave her a look right back. “I’m not. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about it in years.”

  Ivy gave me a look.

  “I mean it. Honestly, it was a relief when he moved away. I’m not mad he forgot about the kiss. Annoyed maybe. Irritated? Sure. But the truth is, Luke acted exactly like I should have expected him to. And him forgetting the kiss busted my rose-colored glasses. I saw every shitty thing he did, and that was all I could see.”

  “Can see,” she corrected lightly, snipping a branch.

  “He’s just so…” Arrogant. Conceited. Vain. Maddening. “He’s so completely Luke. He hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, I think the years have made him worse.”

  “Or made you more grumpy.”

  I sighed.

  “I’m glad to hear you admit you’re not mad he forgot he kissed you when you were sixteen. Otherwise, I’d tell you to get yourself some real, adult problems.”

  “The fact that he kissed me and pretended like I didn’t exist afterward doesn’t exactly help his case any.”

  “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

  I eyed her. “But…”

  “Well, Luke’s a lot of things, but an asshole isn’t one of them. I think if you told him, he’d feel bad. Don’t you?”

  “Does Luke Bennet actually feel anything?” Snip.

  She ignored me. “You didn’t even tell me until he moved to the other side of the country. Five years, you kept it from me, your best friend. You even let me fool around with him right there under your nose.”

  I kept my eyes on my hands, which were busy. “Because it obviously didn’t mean anything, Ivy. Why make a fuss?”

  “Because you were hurt. I wouldn’t have ever kissed him again if I’d known—you know I was about as serious about him as he was about me, which is to say not at all. I don’t even think I considered him when he wasn’t in the room. I didn’t even know you had a crush on him, and if I’d known I wouldn’t have ever fooled around with him again. Either I’m the most dense woman on the planet, or you’re better at keeping secrets than Batman.”

  I laughed. “Trust me—it was my doing. I didn’t want you to know, Ivy. I didn’t even want to like him, never mind admit it out loud.”

  “I could never keep something like that to myself,” she continued, disregarding what I’d said beyond a warming of her eyes. “I think I’d combust from the pressure. And especially if I’d just been through what you’d been through.”

  My mom.

  Silence stretched between us as we both went back to that time. I’d always been reserved with things that caused me pain, preferring to shoulder the burden on my own. That way, I was in control. Telling someone else … well, that was harder. To open up and expose my softest places, my deepest bruises also left me open to getting hurt.

  Like that night with Luke. When he’d somehow coaxed the truth out of me—the loss, the depth of my pain, the crushing weight of responsibility. When I lost myself in his arms, cried until the well dried. When I looked up at him and was cursed with the kiss of my lifetime, heavy and deep with emotion.

  When he’d told me he was mine and asked me to be his.

  And forgotten he’d ever uttered the words.

  This was my most guarded secret, the one I’d never spoken to a soul. The humiliation was just too much to bear. And like I’d told Ivy—that night was the blasting of the iron curtain. The boy I had seen post-kiss was not the same one I’d thought I knew pre-kiss.

  Ivy broke the silence, snipping off another hydrangea. “Really, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t tell anybody. Why would I?”

 
; “I don’t know. To get it off your chest?”

  “I’d rather everyone not know exactly how I feel all the time.”

  “And I say exactly what I feel, when I feel it,” she said. “It’s how I form bonds. I hate being alone.”

  “I love it.”

  “Think Luke will leave you alone?” Ivy asked with a brow up.

  “I’m not that lucky.” I looked around the shop, feeling the sharp edges of change in every corner. “It’s been you and me for so long. Having anyone in our space, interrupting our routine, will be hard. When that someone is Luke Bennet, we should just prepare for anarchy.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, he’s not so bad.”

  “Please. His head is so fat, I’m surprised he can fit through standard doorways.”

  “I think he’s gotten just about anything—and anyone—he’s ever wanted,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if it was to argue with me or to agree.

  “And yet his ambitions remain firmly in the gutter. Honestly, Luke is the patent opposite of everything I value—he’s aimless, unpredictable, unreliable. I can’t imagine why you’re shocked that I’m not his number one fan.”

  “I’d take fan two-forty.” She shrugged, her eyes on the flowers. “I think he’s exciting, always was. Luke could make grocery shopping a good time. If ever I wanted an adventure, Luke was waiting with a hand extended and a wicked smile on his face.”

  Adventure. The word struck me like flint and set an angry fire in my chest. I might need adventure, but not with him.

  “Why do you look like you could spit acid?” she asked, snapping me back to myself.

  “I don’t know,” I shot, annoyed.

  “Tess,” she started, pausing until I met her eyes and she was sure she had my full attention, “Luke is a good guy, one you have not seen in years. One who has grown up, just like you. He’s Mrs. Bennet’s son, who came all the way back from California just to help out. Has he ever intentionally done anything to hurt you?”

  “No,” I grumbled.

  “Sixteen-year-old Tess is still butthurt about it.”

  “It was a good kiss, and he should have remembered,” I joked.

  “Yes, he should have. But if you really want reconciliation, then tell him.”