Page 75 of Saltwater Cowboy

I shook my head slowly, as if it were a minor confession. “I guess I never thought about it.” I looked at the rows of flowers around us. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

His face softened, and I could tell he was trying to process my words. There was a moment of quiet between us, and the sound of the shears snipping filled the air again. He wiped a hand across his forehead before glancing at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Never?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, shrugging a little, but I could feel my chest tighten as I said it. “I mean, I’ve gotten flowers at a party, like in a vase or something, but no one’s ever thought to give them to me for no reason. I’ve never gotten ‘just because’ flowers.” I dropped my gaze, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

For a moment, Wells didn’t speak. He just stared at the row of flowers in front of him, his lips pressed together as if he was mulling something over.

“Huh,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual. He stepped over to the next row, cutting through a few stems with ease, but his eyes flicked back to me. “I’d say sunflowers would suit you.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bright yellow blooms swaying in the breeze. “Sunflowers?” I laughed softly, though the sound felt a little uncertain.

He gave me a sidelong glance and then offered a half-smile. “Sunflowers are bold, unapologetic. They stand tall and proud.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just shrugged and returned to my task, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. “I never thought of it that way.”

Wells’s expression softened, and I could see a flash of something in his eyes—something that wasn’t teasing or dismissive. It was genuine. He watched me for a second longer, then nodded.

I smirked, still feeling the awkwardness of the moment. “We’ll see if you can find one I like.”

He chuckled, but there was something else in the sound—a hint of sincerity, maybe even a quiet challenge. “Oh, I’ll find something, Rose. You might be a little harder to figure out than most, but I’m stubborn. I’ll find something you like.”

I looked at him, considering his words. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had really tried to figure me out.

As I bent down again to snip another flower, the thought lingered. Maybe flowers weren’t the only things that could surprise me today.

We worked in silence for a while, the sun relentlessly beating down on my scalp. “I think my head’s burning,” I muttered, shading my face with a hand.

Wells paused, grabbing my head gently and inspecting the top. “Yep. Sure are,” he said, letting go and raising an eyebrow. “Where’s that sunscreen you mentioned?”

“I put it on earlier,” I replied defensively.

“That was hours ago,” he replied, his gaze drifting to my shoulders, now a bright shade of red. “Your scalp’s burnt, and your shoulders are fried. You need to go inside and re-apply.”

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“We could always head back to the house,” he suggested, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“You mean the place with the air conditioning?” I clarified.

“That very place.”

I pulled off my sunglasses and met his eyes. “I wouldn’t be mad. My water’s running low anyway.”

“Let’s load up these flowers and head back,” he said, his voice smooth as he began packing the freshly cut blooms into the carrier.

I couldn’t help but notice Wells wasn’t wearing his usual long-sleeve flannel today. Instead, he sported a simple white t-shirt that made his tattoos pop against his sun-kissed skin.

“Stop staring and start helping,” he teased, catching me in the act.

I shook my head, forcing my attention back to the task at hand. “What are we going to do with these flowers anyways?”

Wells smiled, his eyes lingering on me for a beat before he turned his attention back to securing the last of the flowers in the carrier. “Most of these are going to the nursing home down the street,” he said, his voice soft but purposeful.

“That’s kind of you,” I replied, impressed by the gesture.

He swung a leg over the four-wheeler, facing me with that familiar, easy confidence. “Get on,” he said, his tone inviting yet firm.