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Chapter Four
Ryan
I’m still chuckling under my breath as I step inside my office, red roses in hand. It took every ounce of control I had to not drive straight to the flower shop first thing Tuesday morning, but I knew that if I was going to continue this little game of cat and mouse with the gorgeous shop attendant, I needed to give it a few days.
When I showed up Monday night at Mrs. Hanson’s door with the flowers and cheesecake that I picked up from the deli, she was pleasantly surprised by my visit. I waited until she served coffee before I subtly asked about Blossoms and Blooms. I tried to play it off as just curiosity–you know, since I bought the flowers from there–but Mrs. H has proven to be able to read me like a book in our short year of friendship.
I ended up caving and telling her all about my first meeting of the beautiful brunette with light green eyes and a stunning smile, leaving out the part where I implied that the flowers were for a friend.
Over cherry cheesecake, Mrs. Hanson told me about Payton Summer starting the downtown flower business after the previous owners up and closed, relocating to another state. While she was getting her hair done on Monday morning, the ladies were all talking about the second-to-oldest Summer girl, Jaime, moving back home and filling in at the flower shop since Payton was short staffed. So, Mrs. Hanson was already well equipped with information on the happenings in downtown Jupiter Bay.
The look on Jaime’s face when I said goodbye, calling her by name, is still branded on my brain. I’m not exactly sure who I’ll be buying flowers for next, but you can bet your ass I’ll be back there soon.
As I set the vase on Mary’s desk, she gives me a look of shock. “It’s not my birthday. What’s that for?” she asks curiously.
“It’s a just because. I was passing the flower place and they had a sale. Thought you’d like some to brighten up the office,” I tell her as I drop into one of the chairs in front of her desk.
“Ryan Alan Elson, what did you do?” she asks with a stern voice and even sterner look.
“What’d I do? Nothing. Can’t someone bring his favorite person in the world flowers just because?” I kick my feet up on the top of her desk as I say it.
“Humph. If it was anyone else, I might think yes. But you? No, you’re up to something. So what is it? Did you spend everything you have? You did, didn’t you? What did you buy, Mister?”
Chuckling, I smile over at my friend. “Of course I didn’t spend everything I have. You really think I’d want to deal with the wrath of Mary? I didn’t spend anything except a few bucks on this gift for you. The jobs are all on schedule. Your job is secure. Everything is fine.”
“I still think something is up. I’ve worked for you for a year, and you’ve never brought me a random gift other than leftover pie from Mrs. Hanson or that fancy caramel drink from the coffee shop, which you left in your truck for half the day ensuring that it was anything but hot by the time it arrived here. So what is it? Are you sleeping with the florist?”
My eyes shoot towards hers as I realize how close she is to hitting the nail on the head. No, I’m not sleeping with the florist, but I’d damn sure like to be.
“I am not sleeping with the florist. I’ve only met the shop owner once, almost a year ago, thank you very much.”
“Then what? Spill.”
I consider making up some excuse to get to my office. I’m sure there are several documents and checks that require my signature. But staring over at my first Jupiter Bay friend, I realize I don’t want to evade.
“Actually, I stopped in on Monday to get flowers for Mrs. Hanson’s birthday. The woman working in there is Payton’s sister, Jaime. She’s…striking.”
It’s hard not to get lost in the memory of our first meeting. Her curves, that smile, the way she practically growled at me when I flirted with her after suggesting that I was buying flowers for a fuck-buddy.
“Ah, yes, Jaime Summer. I haven’t seen her much since she’s been back in town. Her family used to come into the diner when I still worked there. Nice family. Beautiful girl.”
I nod my head, acknowledging and agreeing, before standing up and heading towards my office.
“You know, my favorite flower is an orchid. Uncommon, vibrant, and expensive. Every woman has a favorite flower, Ryan,” she adds while keeping her gaze on the roses and I return to my office.
Every woman has a favorite flower. Those words repeat in my head as I attempt, unsuccessfully, to read the materials list for the tenth time for an upcoming job. Every woman? That means that Jaime must have a favorite, too. Suddenly, finding out what her favorite flower is the only thing I can think of.
Well, that and the image of dragging said flower across her naked torso.
***
I’m not the best planner. That’s why I have Mary. But there are some things in life that require a man to take the bull by the horns himself and get shit done. Case in point? Operation Secure A Date With Jaime. Even though she gave me the nudge I needed, I can’t ask Mary for advice.
Advice. I’ve never needed help getting a date before in my life–well, if you overlook that time freshman year where I had Billy ask Sabrina if she’d be interested in going to homecoming with me. But that was hypothetical. Today, I’m seeking out a girl that I suspect has as much interest in me as I do her–except there’s also clear hesitation mixed in. And that leaves me unsettled and less confident than normal.
I haven’t dated since Sara. I tried going out once a couple months back, but the woman wouldn’t get her face out of her cell phone long enough to order her meal, let alone talk to me. I’ve had offers, even so much as one last Saturday while I was shooting pool with my friend Flip, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Even hookups seem all wrong right now. I haven’t hooked up with anyone since the she-devil herself. Nine long months with no action besides my hand in the shower. That’s why my reaction to Jaime is so exhilarating. From the moment I saw her standing behind the counter, I’ve been hard with a craving that only she can quench.
Jaime. It’s time to focus on Jaime and what I need to do to secure a date. Something tells me just flat out asking her isn’t going to benefit my cause. I’m going to have to get crafty. Probably mention that all those flowers weren’t for other women so much as older women, both who are like a parent and grandparent to me, respectively.
