Like a hydrangea.
She drops her face into her hands with an audible sigh. “I’m just amazed I survived. How the hell do they get away with that without making people sign some kind of waiver? The potential for lawsuits is insane.”
A low chuckle escapes me. “I told Rich that myself.”
Her eyes dart up to me. “Rich?”
I gesture around the office. “The guy who owns this place is a friend of mine. My shop did the flowers for his wedding.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to tell her about my job so soon. Women tend to make one of two assumptions when they find out I’m a florist. Either I must be gay, or I must be lying. Apparently, a twenty-five-year-old guy with tattooed sleeves can’t be straight and a florist.
But I love flowers. Mama’s garden was her pride and joy, and she instilled a love of plants and all of their meanings in me from a young age. She always dreamed of opening a flower shop, and when she died and left me all alone, I vowed I would do just that. Three years later and Wild Rose’s, named after my mama, is doing better than I could have ever hoped. Maybe it’s the draw of a tattooed dude making flower arrangements. I don’t know and I don’t care; all I know is that I’m happy and I make other people happy.
I have a good life, doing a job I enjoy, in a town I call home. Dogwood Cove isn’t where I figured I would settle down, but the rent on my shop space was good with the landlord being the mayor of the town, and hell — the small town kind of grew on me.
Best part is, no one there knows I’m also a twenty-five-year-old virgin.
Not for some deep moral reason or anything, believe me. But after watching Mama go through one too many bad relationships with assholes who only wanted a warm bed for a night, I vowed never to treat a woman that way. It needs to mean something.
Unfortunately, that’s another thing that women are either obsessed about or confused about. If they don’t want to be the one to take my virginity, then they simply don’t understand why I’m not giving it up. Because being a dude means being obsessed with sex, I guess.
I learned the hard way they didn’t want to hear me say I just wasn’t into them enough to go that far. After the second slap to my face, I stopped even bothering with women.
But looking at blondie right now, something is stirring in me. Something I’ve never felt before, right in the center of my chest. And she isn’t running, or looking at me like I’m crazy. She’s staring back at me, like she’s trying to make sense of something as well.
“You’re a florist?” she asks, and I’m relieved that I hear only curiosity in her tone, not judgment. I nod.
“You’re also a freaking hero! Thank you for getting me out of there.” Her head cocks to the side, and somehow, I just know she’s one of those curious ones. “I know what you do for a living, and I don’t even know your name,” she says in a matter-of-fact way.
“Topher. Short for Christopher, but only my parents call me that.”
She smiles, and damn, it lights up the whole fucking room. “I’m Bridget. Thank you, again, Topher, for saving me back there.”
“Aww, you were fine, darlin’. I just provided the escape route.”
Bridget. I roll her name around in my head. It’s elegant, just like she is. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to keep the conversation with this beautiful woman going when the door to Rich’s office bangs open.
“Bridge? Oh my God, there you are. Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn it up that high.” A pint-sized brunette comes in like a whirlwind with Rich on her heels.
Chapter three
Bridget
As a lawyer, I keep my temper on a short leash. It’s important, especially when I’m in a boardroom staring down some middle-aged man who thinks he’s a better lawyer than me just because he has a dick. But as Suzie, who has the best of intentions, I’m sure, hustles me out of the office and all the way through the crowded bar to a waiting Uber out front, all I can think of is how badly I want to scream at her. She just pulled me away from the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, whose arms felt like bands of steel around my body, and who, if I’m not mistaken, had the beginning of a pretty impressive erection going on while I was in his arms.
“I am so, so sorry, Bridget. Oh my God, I had no idea you would be abducted by a stranger. Like, holy shit, that isnothow I wanted to get you laid. Oh shit, he didn’t touch you, did he?” My best friend is twisted in her seat, facing me and running her hands all over me, as if trying to find some evidence of wrongdoing.
“Suzie, stop. I’m fine; he didn’t abduct me, hecaughtme, aftersomeonecranked up the goddamn speed on that death trap.” I glare at her, but it’s pointless. Because Suzie has moved on from concern to…I don’t know what exactly, but with her, that’s never a good thing.
“Whatever, he carried you off like a caveman!” Suzie cocks her head. “A hot caveman. Wait. You liked it, didn’t you? Oh my God, what happened in that office before I found you? Were you? Did you? Bridge…you little hussy, I’m so proud of you!”
I shake my head. “Actually, no. You interrupted before I could be any sort of hussy.”
“Damn. Wanna go back? We can turn around.”
I shoot out my hand to stop her. “No way. I’m not going to appear that desperate, don’t be ridiculous.”
Suzie slumps back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest and pouting at me. “You know, I could enforce the whole ‘I’m in charge’ thing.”
