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I guess that’s it, then. I turn, about to head back, when he talks again.
“Is that him?” Molly’s eyes are narrowed in Orson’s direction.
I follow his gaze to where Orson is watching us, hands on his hips and looking … worried? Ah, shit.
Better make this fast and fill him in because it’s just hit me what this looks like from his perspective. He distracted me with sex before I could tell him about what happened at the cafe, and then it slipped my mind, so I can understand why he’d be confused over me giving another man flowers.
I’m not sure how to answer, though, since we still haven’t defined shit. So I go with a “We’re new” and hope that covers everything.
“But he’s soold.” Molly wrinkles his cute nose. “Can he even keep up with you?”
“He’s only a few years older than me, and also, don’t. Being mean isn’t you.”
“Guess we didn’t know each other very well at all, then, did we?”
My jaw tightens as I hold back from saying anything. He’s hurt, had a bit of a setback, but I have no doubt that he’ll recover and move on quickly. There was nothing more than flirting between us, which I’m regretting now. Flirting with everyone is fun until someone gets hurt.
Molly’s always been a nice guy, but I sensed that undercurrent of possessiveness from a mile away, and I am so glad in this moment that I never gave in to the temptation of an easy lay.
“Goodbye, Molly.”
“Goodbye, Ford Thomas.”
The whole way back to Orson’s booth, I’m trying to figure out how to explain all …this. It’s pretty straightforward, and Orson’s a reasonable guy, but you never know what’s going to trigger someone to unnecessary jealousy. All I know is I’ll grovel if I have to.
“Sorry,” I say, running a hand through my hair as I step back into the booth. “The other day, I—”
He cuts me off with his mouth. A grunt echoes in my throat as Orson’s tongue pushes into my mouth, his hands gripping my hair and his body pressed against me. The reaction is worlds different from what I was expecting, but I grip him and kiss him right back.
If Orson doesn’t give a shit about his customers and the other vendors seeing us, then neither do I.
“Well, that wasn’t the welcome back I was expecting,” I say, slightly breathless, when he pulls away.
“I’m not allowed to miss you?”
“For two minutes? Nope.” I rub my beard. “Gotta say that I thought you’d react differently to me giving another man flowers.”
His gaze flicks in the direction I was standing with Molly, making it clear he knows what I’m talking about. “Did the flowers mean anything?”
“They were an apology.”
His lips twitch. “Should have grabbed the orchids, then.”
“I’ll remember to consult you next time.”
“Next time?” His head tilts. “You planning on giving random men flowers often?”
“I think you underestimate the high demand for me.”
Orson thumps me in the shoulder and turns to pull away, but I catch him before he can. My arms circle his waist, and his back thumps against my chest.
“I told him about you.”
Orson stiffens. “You did?”
I frown at the weird tone. “Was that not okay? You said—”
He twists back to face me, smile lighting up his eyes. “What did you tell him?”
