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“No one has floral experience, Jaime. I’d either have hired an older woman who thinks she knows everything already or a teenager who’s on her cell phone all day and doesn’t complain about making minimum wage.”
“Well, I still really appreciate it,” I say as I start to walk out the door.
“Hey, Jaime?” Payton hollers, causing me to turn back around. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” My smile is wide as I slip out the back door and wait until I hear the lock engage.
I slide into my used Honda and head towards home. I can’t help but glance at the side of the street in front of the shop where Mr. Handsome and Sinful was parked just a bit ago. I’m sure I’ll never see him again, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about him.
I have plenty of things on my list to focus on right now. Nowhere on that checklist is anything about flirting with a gorgeous stranger. Instead, my list comprises of getting a job, saving money for an apartment, and being able to buy my own groceries. All things that I haven’t done since I left Cleveland with barely a handful of pennies to my name. Hell, most of those things I haven’t done since well before I left Ohio. When I was with Gavin, we shared the same dream. Marriage, kids, house, and therefore he was the breadwinner for the last few years.
At least I thought it was the same dream.
As I pull into the long driveway that leads to my childhood home, I push all thoughts of Gavin and his deceitfulness out of my mind. That ship has sailed, and I’m determined to keep my focus on moving forward, not looking and reflecting back.
Still, it’s hard when your entire life was thought to be one way, only to find it wasn’t really like that at all. It’s a hard pill to swallow.
But, that’s part of the past I’m trying to finally overcome. It’s what I’m desperately trying to get away from. Something to eventually cross off the list.
I’ll get there, one step at a time.
***
Friday afternoon has finally arrived. My first week at Blossoms and Blooms has been a steady stream of walk-in customers, funeral arrangements, and helium filled birthday balloons. I’ve been manning the counter and working on perfecting my arrangements while Payton handles the deliveries. Of course, when she comes back, she politely explains why you can’t put gerbera daisies with freesia, and disassembles my arrangement.
Whatever.
Payton just left for another delivery when the bell above the door jingles. I’m adding the finishing touches to a dozen long-stemmed red roses when I glance over my shoulder. I’m shocked when I see who my next customer is. Pleasantly shocked.
I’m greeted with a warm smile and those twinkling brown eyes. My breath hitches in my throat as his gaze drops to my ass and slowly starts to climb back up. I should probably turn around and nip this in the bud, but I don’t. I can’t.
“Can I help you?” I finally ask when I find my voice.
His eyes have yet to make their way back up to my face, so I make sure to plaster on my best annoyed look. When brown eyes finally lock on mine, I falter. My well-planned irritated appearance evaporates into thin air. Poof. Gone.
“Just the woman I was looking for. I’m in need of something and I believe you’re the only one to give it to me.”
Damn him! My heart rate is nearing stroke level and my breathing continually hitches in my dry throat.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but I’m certain I can only help you with flowers.” My reply almost sounds foreign, even to my own ears.
“I’d love to get some more of your…flowers,” he says with that damn smirk as he leans against the counter.
“Well, I’m sure you could find what you’re looking for in the case,” I sass, pointing to the display case before returning my attention towards the roses.
When I add the final sprig of baby’s breath, I dust off my hands on my green apron. I also realize Mr. Smirks-a-lot isn’t over at the case. As if I could feel his eyes crawling all over my body, I know instantly that he’s still behind me. But the crazy thing is that I don’t feel creeped out by his attention and wandering eyes. Instead, I feel empowered.
Turning around, I return my gaze to his. Sudden need stirs to life between my legs, forcing me to squeeze them closed in an attempt to alleviate the ache. Or ignore it. I could try that, but I don’t think it’s possible.
“How much for the roses?” he asks.
“These? I thought you didn’t do roses. Red roses signify commitment,” I tell him as I make my way towards the cooler.
“True, but maybe that’s what I’m after this time,” he says as he falls in line with me.
“Really? From a colorful bouquet to red roses in only five days? Your friend must really be someone special,” I reply, ignoring the taste in my mouth that resembles the bitterness of jealousy.
“Different friend. A good friend.”
