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He cocked his head. "That sounds interesting."
I nodded enthusiastically. "It really is. Flowers have always had meanings. You probably know a few. Yellow roses for friendship, red roses for...," he was staring hungrily at my mouth as I talked. Like he wanted to kiss it. Or bite it. "Erm, love." I blinked and cleared my throat. "But it goes so much deeper than that."
Liam laughed softly. "I thought you were an accountant."
"Flowers are my passion," I told him.
His eyes lit up. "Are they now, Shay? That's really good to know. I'll try to remember that." There was that devilish dimple again.
I had to look away from those gray depths if I was ever going to maintain focus. "You're missing the coolest part though."
"No I'm not." He was definitely staring at my mouth. My lips felt swollen under his gaze. Tender and fat with the need to be kissed.
"Wait," I might have been saying that to myself. "Just listen."
"I'm listening."
And he was. He was focused on me like I was the only thing he saw. I felt like a queen. "Victorians with their, shall we say, rather roundabout way of expressing things like love and passion, came up with a whole dictionary of flower meanings." I pulled the little battered paperback out from under the counter and showed him. He took off his gloves and handled it like it was a sacred object. "Look, see here? They would send each other these coded messages." I flipped through the pages excitedly. When his bare, heated skin brushed against my fingers, I felt a jolt of electricity pass between us. "Uh, yeah, coded bouquets. They called them tussie-mussies. Isn't that a cute word, tussie-mussie?"
"Adorable," he exhaled. He wasn't looking at the book.
"Those little tussie-mussies let them say all sorts of beautiful," I snuck a glance at his dimple, "and dirty things to each other."
"Dirty, huh?"
"Filthy. And they could say it without ever having to speak anything out loud."
"Would you want a tussie mussie, Shay? Or do you prefer those things said out loud?"
I gaped at him. There was a promise in his eyes. A dangerous one. The heat under my skin threatened to burn me to ash. "Mm, I'm not sure," I heard myself say, then blushed to hear myself say it.
He held my gaze firmly for one more moment. Then, just as I was about to combust, he looked back down at the book. "This is really interesting, Shay," he said, and I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"It is!" I exclaimed, happy to be back in safer territory. "It's a whole hidden meaning. You can put together a bouquet that tells this whole story...."
I trailed off as I realized he wasn't even looking at the book anymore. "I am really glad I met you today, Shay," Liam said.
He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. Every cell in my body wanted to believe he was sincere. I wanted to say me too.
But the small, wounded part of me, still protective and suspicious, shut my lips and instead I just smiled. And the moment of openness passed. I felt myself close up tightly again. "So, Liam. What is your bouquet going to say?" I lifted my pen.
Segues were never my strong point.
He blinked. "I'm trying to say...." He thought for a minute. Several shadows passed over his face. "I want to tell her I'm proud of her."
Wait.
Her?
Chapter Three
Her. Of course it was for a her.
Hot, angry blood beat in my ears. Her? How dare he? Flirting like this when he was already with someone? What kind of arrogant bastard does that?
The kind of arrogant bastard you always fall for? The kind of arrogant bastard you married?
I opened and closed my mouth several times, each time having to bite my bitter words back. You cheating son of a bitch, your woman deserves better than you I didn't say.
I also didn't slap the dimple off of his beautiful face.
Instead I swallowed and tried to regain my professional tone. "You're proud of her." Emphasis on the her. "Pride, ah, yes, well that's amaryllis, that's easy."
I stalked over to the fridge and let the cool air blast my overheated face and took a deep breath. It helped being away from his dizzying presence.
Feeling marginally less ready to kill him, I pulled out the few amaryllis we had. "It's a beautiful flower, almost like a lily." I turned around to see him staring at me, an odd expression on his face. It was unnerving. I looked back down at the flower instead. "I like how the petals aren't perfect. They're a little tattered looking, see?"
He was breathing heavily. "I'll have to think about it." He looked ill. "I'm...not sure that's saying exactly what I want to say."
I swallowed again. The store needed this sale. I had to tamp down my hard feelings and do the whole good customer service thing. "Well, tell me more about her?" How long have you been cheating on her, for one?
"She's been through a lot and she's come out the other side."
I felt my heart skip sideways. Poor thing gets cheated on right when she comes through the bad times. But I looked at Liam again. He was clearly thinking carefully about this. Who was this man, putting this much thought into a bouquet? Standing there, in a coat that cost more than my car, fretting about buying flowers that "mean" something.
Maybe I had misread the flirting? Maybe I had been out of the game so long I was just desperately seeing something that wasn't there?
"Well, now," I heard my voice softening slightly. Jasmine always said I had the worst kind of soft heart. "You don't have to make it solely flowers," I told him. "Foliage adds color both to the bouquet and the language. We can add oak leaves, those mean bravery."
"Yes," his eyes glinted. They really were the color of the sea in winter.
"There's also 'hope in adversity.' That's pine, which is nice with the season."
"What about her being happy?"
I felt my heart skip a small beat. If you're cheating, no amount of flowers will make her truly happy. A bit of advice, free of charge. "Well we can say two things. There are yellow roses, of course."
He raised an eyebrow. "You said those mean friendship."
"They do, but not in Victorian language. That’s like the...," I waved my hands in the air, trying to grab the right word, "The...superficial meaning. Yeah, there's happiness, but then there's also the return to happiness. And that's lily of the valley."
He nodded. "She'd like that."
I swallowed. "Okay, so we have a bouquet here that says bravery, hope in adversity, the return of happiness and pride. I think you'll want the red amaryllis. Contrast with the little white of the lily of the valley." I held a few sprigs together to show him.
He cocked his head. "What about that one?"
I moved to where he pointed to the brilliantly red and white striped amaryllis still in the fridge case. "Yes," I nodded, impressed. "This is even better."
Liam tapped the order form. "So, this bouquet, this tussie-mussie," He looked at me and dimpled and my anger flared anew. "It says 'I am proud you made it through the hard times and now I want you to be happy?'"
"Yes." I clenched my fists.
"Perfect." He whipped out his card. It was black, heavier than normal, made out of some kind of metal instead of plastic. "When can I pick it up?"
"I can have it for you the day after tomorrow, provided the snow doesn't cut off our shipments."
"That's perfect." He looked at me sincerely for a moment. "I really want to thank you, Shay." He wielded my name like a caress. I felt the breath squeezed out of my lungs.
"You're welcome," I said tightly.
He extended his hand. I didn't want to touch him. I wanted him out of the store, out of my life before I did something I would regret forever. I never wanted another woman to feel as bad as I did when Tre cheated on me. I would never be the source of someone else's misery. But those eyes...
They needed to go.
