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I just get the vase situated on the shelf when his words sink in. Really? Is this man really in here buying flowers for a different woman already? And roses? My gut churns like butter as I gape at him.
“Can I get the roses?” he asks sweetly with that sexy as sin smile.
“Sure,” I mumble, retrieving the arrangement I just set in the case not ten seconds ago.
I hit the buttons on the cash register a little too hard, unable to hide my annoyance. I’m tempted to charge the pig double just for spite. It’s the least I can do for the other woman.
“Thirty-nine ninety-five.”
He whistles as he pulls two more twenties out of his wallet. I try not to, but my gaze automatically drops to his driver’s license. Unfortunately, I’m unable to see anything other than a peek at his photo. A nice photo. Dammit.
“Thank you,” I reply, dropping a nickel into his outstretched hand.
I’m not quick enough at pulling my hand back, however, and the man’s hand snatches closed, grabbing my hand along with his change. I gasp aloud by the sudden movement, as warmth blankets my hand. Fire shoots straight up my arm, sizzling and crackling its way through every extremity.
His hands are large and calloused, and all I can think about is what they’d feel like against my body. An uncontrollable shudder rakes through me. I’m trapped in the heat of his gaze, like gravity pulling me towards him, and I don’t even attempt to pull away. It’s futile.
After holding my hand for several sexually charged seconds, he finally releases me. I step back, trying to put as much distance between him and the overwhelming desire I feel for him. If I don’t retreat quickly, I’m likely to try to climb him like a tree. And since I’m apparently not the only one doing the climbing, he’s liable to leave me with a bad bark-burn when I’m done.
Grabbing the vase, I push it towards him. The faster I can get him out of the shop, the better. I have no idea why I can’t seem to keep it together in his presence, but I can’t. I’m like a teenager with a crush on the captain of the football team, all jittery and stuttery. It’s embarrassing, really. What twenty-nine-year-old has this hard of a time communicating with another human being?
“Thank you.” Those two words, deep and rich, are accompanied by another smile. This one’s full wattage, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice smile. Award-winning, actually. But knowing that he’s here (for the second time this week) buying flowers (for the second woman this week) and he’s still shamelessly flirting with me, doesn’t really settle well with me, you know?
So, instead of smiling back at him, I cross my arms and glare. I’m sure my sister would have a heart attack if she knew I was scowling at her customers, but there’s something about this shmuck that ruffles my feathers. A gorgeous shmuck, sure, but a schmuck nonetheless.
He grabs the vase, offers me a wink, and struts towards the door. His jeans are more worn than the last pair and his work boots scuffed and dusty. The polo shirt is replaced with a tight-fitting tee that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I shamelessly watch as he makes his way towards the front of the shop. Traitorous eyes.
When I realize he has stopped, I quickly avert my gaze upward, but it’s too late. He clearly saw me checking him out. Again. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I focus on anything other than the man at the front door. When he still makes no move to exit, I slowly return my sights on him. His smile is small and almost carries more of a wallop than that damn smirk.
“Goodbye, Jaime. I’ll see you soon,” he says with a wink before leaving.
I stare at the space he once stood in for several seconds, willing my heart rate to slow down. That man completely causes my world to tilt on its axis, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
It’s when I’m straightening up the counter that I realize something monumental. Something that I didn’t catch at first, but now shocks me to my core. It’s not the fact that he insinuated that we’d be seeing each other again soon. No, this is something bigger.
He called me Jaime as he walked out the door.
He knows my name.
