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Meticulously taking in each vase, I contemplate my next move. “So, which of these flowers is your favorite?” I ask casually.
Jaime looks at me, a questioning and suspicious look in her eyes. “Why?”
“Just curious. I want to make sure I make the best choice…for my friend.”
“Friend.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Well, anything in here would probably be fine.”
“And your favorite?” I hedge.
“Is not in this case,” she finishes. We both continue to scan the case in comfortable silence. “You could always go with gardenias. They’re rich, full, and sweet-smelling,” she says, pointing to a large white flower in one of the arrangements.
“That’s perfect. I’ll take one.”
Jaime turns and faces me, her eyebrows pinched in surprise. “One?”
“Yep, only one. Turns out, I’m a one woman, single flower kinda guy now,” I add, leaving the smirk off my face. Instead, I call in the heavy artillery and give her my best panty-dropping smile.
It’s a proven fact.
She stares up at me for several heartbeats, gauging my sincerity, I’m sure. The room is silent, even though I know we’re not alone, which can only mean one thing: We have an audience.
Jaime must realize it at the same time and clears her throat before averting her gaze. “I’ll go grab one from the back and wrap it up for you,” she mumbles before hightailing it out of the main shop area to the large open workspace and storage just on the other side of a large doorway.
Heading up to the counter where I have an unobstructed view of the room Jaime’s in, I pull out my wallet. Two sets of eyes follow my movements like a dog would a bone. It causes me to bounce a little on my feet as I feel their gaze burn into me. I swallow hard and stare straight ahead as Jaime wraps up the white flower.
“So, you do construction, Ryan?” Emma asks, pulling my eyes towards her.
“Yes, ma’am. Home construction mostly.”
“Funny you should say that. I’m thinking of doing a little remodeling at home.”
“What are you talking about, Grandma? Dad hasn’t said anything about remodeling the house,” Payton questions.
“Oh, your dad doesn’t tell you everything, girl. We were just talking the other day about making updates. He’s wanting to start on the second floor, the northwest bedroom.”
“Hey! That’s my bedroom,” Jaime hollers, joining us at the front counter, flower in hand.
“Yes, I suppose it is, sweetie, but you won’t be in that room for long. I’m talking your dad into knocking out the wall between your room and the twins’ bedroom beside it. If we knock out that wall, we can put in a playroom.” Emma gives me the sweetest smile known to man.
“That’s so sweet of you guys to want to plan for your great grandkids, but none of us are pregnant, Grandma,” Payton says.
“Oh, not that kinda playroom, Payters. I’m talking the dirty sex kinda playroom. Like the one in that movie with the Dom who uses those crazy toys on the virgin.”
“Grandma!” Jaime gasps, her hands flying up to hide her eyes.
“Are you talking about Fifty Shades? You’ve seen Fifty Shades of Grey?” Payton asks, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“Seen it? I own two copies! Your grandpa loves that scene where that cute little millionaire spanks her for the first time,” Emma adds with a hearty cat-that-ate-the-canary smile.
“Oh God,” Jaime groans. “Wait, and why won’t I be in that room for very long?”
“Because I’m working on marrying you off, girl. I have a whole slew of hot, strapping young men who are itchin’ to take my granddaughter out on a date!”
Suddenly, I’ve gone from pleasantly entertained to an uncontrollable need to punch someone as the back of my neck burns with annoyance. If even one of those strapping young men so much as looks Jaime’s way, I’ll remove their balls with a wooden spoon.
“Look, I’m not looking for a date or to get married,” Jaime states pointedly to the elderly woman next to me. “And you,” she starts while turning her attention back to me. “I’m sure you have a friend to get to. Thank you for visiting us. I’m sure we’ll see you again very soon.”
And with that, Jaime turns and walks into the back room, essentially cutting us all off and ending the conversation. I watch her go, surprised by how bothered I am that she seems upset. Upset at her grandma or me, I’m not sure, but the thought of her being annoyed or hurt does something to my insides, like someone’s twisting my intestines around a butter knife. Like cooked spaghetti noodles. Pleasant.
“Wildflowers,” Emma whispers, pulling my attention from the woman in the other room.
“Excuse me?”
“Wildflowers. Her favorite flowers are wildflowers you pick along the sides of the road or in the tall grass near the Bay. She’s always been a fan of simple beauties over grand gestures.” Her green eyes twinkle with mischief, and maybe a little bit of love for her granddaughter.
“Thank you,” I reply with a wink before grabbing my gardenia and heading out the front door.
My mind is racing a million miles a minute as I walk swiftly towards my truck, but a game plan is formulating. I’m not sure how I’m going to convince Jaime to go out with me, but I’m determined to make it happen. And thanks to that gem of information that Grandma handed me on a silver platter before I left the flower shop, I have a bit more ammunition in my back pocket.
Now, to sway her into saying yes.
