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“What?”
His lips hitch up on one side. “You’re cute. Figured I might as well ask.”
“For … someone? Or for … you?” And I have no idea why my voice is coming out all stilted like this, but damn, I need it to stop.
There’s something knowing in his eyes. “Me.”
“Oh.” My face burns. “But I’m straight though …”
His eyebrows lift, eyes still locked on mine. “Okay.”
“Right. So, flowers?”
“The fluffy things. Yeah.”
I throw him afuck yousmirk, finally able to focus on something that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been hiked out of a plane. “What’s the occasion?”
“My parents’ fortieth anniversary.”
“Congratulations to them.”
“Yeah, their anniversary is always a great reminder that I’m a bastard.”
Feeling emboldened, I ask, “You need the reminder?”
He rewards me with another of those loud laughs. “Just good to get confirmation it’s not completely my fault.”
“Once a bastard, always a bastard?”
“Exactly.”
I circle him to get to a flower display, keeping my ass pointed in the opposite direction. “I don’t think you’re doing a very good job of upholding that image.”
“Oh,really?”
“From what I hear, you’re a total softie.”
“First, they’re lying. Second, you’ve heard about me, huh?”
I shoot down the interest in his tone. “I’m friends with Payne.”
“I knew I never liked that guy.” Ford’s smile gives him away. “He’s actually the reason I’m here myself. Usually my assistant runs errands and things like this for me, but since Payne left the garage, I’m an assistant short. Again.”
“That sucks.”
“You’re telling me. I swear every time I get someone trained up, they move on to something better. But enough of me whining. Which flowers sayyour bastard son loves you?”
“Can’t say I’ve heard that one. Nasturtium is technically for fortieth anniversaries, but I don’t stock it because they turn bad so quickly. And I think they’re ugly. Gladioli are used too, and I have some of those …” Of course, right across the room. “Ah, there …” I point to a bright bouquet that’s closer to Ford than me. He glances in the direction and points at the wrong one.
“This?”
“The next one.” As soon as he turns to look, I hurry over and angle my back away again.
Ford eyes me. “You all right?”
“Excited about flowers.” I wave my hand over them. “Now, do we want to go traditional with this bunch, or there’s the roses, or you could go simple and elegant with something in pastels …”
“What would you pick?”
