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Chapter Five
Jaime
My first week at Blossoms and Blooms has finally ended. Honestly, I’m dead on my feet after working forty hours standing behind a counter. Even though I’m supposed to be considered part-time, Payton’s business is booming enough to warrant my attendance every day. All I can think about right now is a hot bubble bath and a glass of merlot. Of course, knowing that my grandpa will probably be standing outside the bathroom, banging on the door because his bladder is the size of a pea, does dampen my splendid fantasy. In fact, my post-workweek relaxation plans die a slow, painful death.
I slip out the back door, ensuring it’s locked behind me, and head towards my car. Something white and fluffy on my windshield draws my attention instantly. As I step closer, I see a flower. And not just any flower. A gardenia.
Carefully, I step towards my car. Glancing over my shoulder both directions, I slowly remove the flower. I examine it, looking for any clue that it could be from someone else, before bringing it to my nose and giving it a tentative sniff. The delicate bloom is aromatic and instantly reminds me of playful eyes and a matching smile. And if I wasn’t so caught up in the romantic gesture in this whole thing, I might be a little annoyed with the pesky home construction worker.
“I take it you like my peace offering?” I hear behind me in that deep, rich baritone voice that causes shivers.
Turning around, I come face-to-face with the man I can’t stop thinking about. He’s wearing the same attire he had on just a few short hours ago, but this time, his hand is filled with flowers. Wildflowers. Bright purple and yellow flowers of all shapes and sizes.
“And why would you be submitting to a peace offering?” I ask, barely able to take my eyes off the gorgeous mix of roadside blooms.
“Well, it turns out I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” I ask, still rooted where I stand.
“What if I told you that those flowers I bought this week were for my friends? I mean my real friends, not the kind of friends I may have insinuated.”
“Why would you do that? Why lead me to believe that they were for someone else?”
He shrugs his shoulders before taking a step closer and setting the new flowers in the crook of my arm. “It was kinda fun to mess with you a little bit. You seemed to get a little flustered and, if I’m being honest, I liked knowing that I rattled you with my presence. But most importantly, it gave me a reason to come in to the shop and see you.”
His words hang in the air, honest and rueful. He doesn’t smile that cocky smile I’ve come to expect from him. Instead, his sheepish grin is filled with sincerity. The deep brown gaze holds firm, penetrating my lungs, making it impossible to catch my breath.
“So, you lied to me about who the flowers were for?”
“I might have misled you a bit. The first bouquet was for my eighty-year-old neighbor whose birthday was Monday, and the roses were for my office manager, Mary. She probably deserves fine gems and fancy houses for all that she does for me, but she’ll have to settle for the occasional flower arrangement and lukewarm caramel latte from that expensive coffee joint down the block.”
“And this one?” I ask, bringing the gardenia to my nose once more.
“That is a beautiful flower for a stunning woman who I was hoping would like to go to dinner with me tonight.”
The bloom stills at my nose, my body paralyzed and unable to move. Did he really just ask me out on a date? Do I want to go out on a date? It’s been a long time since I went out with someone, especially someone new. Besides the fact that I swore I would never, ever date again, there’s a tinge of uncertainty that I would even remember how to do it. Sure, I made my “no dating ever, ever again” rule as numeral uno on my checklist (writing it in black marker and then highlighting it to be sure it stood out) while I was crying in a pint of Moose Tracks ice cream, but it’s been so long since I even considered this step, I probably wouldn’t remember proper dating etiquette.
“Did you just confess to misleading me to get my attention, and then ask me out on a date? In the same statement? What are we, in sixth grade?” I ask when I finally find my voice.
“I agree it might sound a tad bit juvenile, but I assure you my intentions were solid. I just wanted to get close to you a few times without freaking you out. You’re too beautiful for your own good, but looked like the kinda girl who freaks out easily.”
I squint my eyes at the handsome man. Is that a compliment? “So you bought flowers to get close to me? Why not just ask me out?” I ask, taking a defensive stance.
“Would you have said yes?” he asks.
“No.” It’s automatic. There’s no way I would have said yes to a strange man coming into my place of work and asking me on a date. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been tempted.
“Listen, I’m not that bad of a guy. I feel bad for deceiving you. Why don’t you let me take you out to make up for it?”
“Smooth change of tactics, Ace. Do all the women fall for this line of crap?” I ask, incredulously. Yet, when he smiles that half smile, my panties are suddenly a little damp and my breathing a bit shallow. And I realize how easily women would fall for that very line of crap.
“Probably not as much as I care to admit,” he says sheepishly. And there he goes again with that damn half smile. “One date. That’s all I’m asking for. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I reply without even thinking. The words just fly from my lips like an aircraft taking off from the carrier.
Ryan’s face lights up like he just won some sort of prize. His eyes twinkle and his mouth turns upward in a devilish grin. Realizing what I just said, I open my mouth to retract my statement, but he won’t let me.
He steps forward and places a single finger against my mouth. Having his skin touch my lips sends blood rushing through my veins. My body is alive with want, reminding me, not so subtly, that it’s been a long time since a man has touched me. Six months ago, I swore off men–all men. But right now? I’m ready to throw my inhibitions, and maybe my clothes, straight out the window. The thought is frightening and invigorating at the same time.
