AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Of course. When we were kids, Laurents’ flower shop created amazing arrangements for every wedding, funeral, and graduation in this town. But after the mill and the inn closed and so many families left the area, there hadn’t been enough demand to keep them in business, and they’d closed their doors.
“But they’ve been closed for years.”
He shook his head. “My brothers and I helped paint the new salon on Main Street a few months back. Her daughter-in-law Becca owns it. So she owed me a favor. Her greenhouses are full, and she spends all her time out there now anyway. So she’s happy to part with some of her flowers on occasion. She sends her congratulations, by the way.”
All I could do was drop my chin and shake my head. It was so Remy. Everyone loved him and everyone owed him favors. Of course Mrs. Laurent was happy to come out of retirement for him.
They were gorgeous flowers too. All shades of white, cream, and purple.
“How did you know I liked purple?” I asked, running a hand over the skirt of my lilac dress.
He looked down and kicked the sidewalk with his dress shoe. “You always picked the purple popsicles. And you put purple streaks in your hair in high school. And you took that purple backpack with you everywhere. I always assumed it was your favorite color.”
I inspected him for a moment, and not just because I couldn’t get enough of dressed-up Remy. He had been noticing little things about me for so long. It wasn’t a secret that my favorite color was purple, but it still shook me to the core that as a teenage boy who had so many other things holding his attention, he had noticed something so simple. And that years later, he’d remembered and considered it when buying my wedding flowers. What else had he noticed about me?
My cheeks heated and my stomach fluttered at the notion.
But I refused to analyze that reaction.
Jeez. If simple deductive reasoning was giving me shivers, how was I going to survive being married to this guy for a whole year?
“You look beautiful,” he said softly, jamming his hands into his pockets. He was staring at me, drinking in the sight of me. His darkened gaze landed on my lips, putting my body on high alert. My pulse hammered as we stared at one another, and an intense desire to kiss him washed over me. And not because of the flowers or the compliment. But because of the way he regarded me. It was different from anything I’d ever felt before. His eyes were hungry, and he’d sunk his teeth into his bottom lip.
I turned toward the truck, desperate to stop the heat coursing through my body. “I guess it’s time.” I said lamely, rounding the hood to the passenger side of the truck.
Without a word, he rushed past me to open the door.
As we set off toward Bangor, I stared out the window, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. Because while the marriage would be fake, the desire I was feeling for my husband was painfully real.
Chapter9
Remy
TV makes getting married look easy and beautiful and romantic. But in reality, there’s a lot of standing around in dingy government buildings and paperwork involved.
Not to mention I was having a difficult time keeping my eyes off my bride. I had almost tripped over my own feet when I picked her up. She was wearing a dress. One with a swishy skirt that hugged her curves and showed a tantalizing glimpse of her collarbones. I had never given any thought to collarbones until that day we collided and hers were covered in pie. But now I found myself wondering if I could get away with licking them.
I had stared like an idiot. But everything felt different. She looked different. Feminine and sensual. My brain struggled to process the sudden realization that Hazel was a gorgeous woman who would be my wife very shortly. Though that didn’t scare me nearly as much as it should have.
Looking at her in her pretty dress, holding fresh flowers, I felt the kind of want, this longing, that I’d never experienced before. Her plump lips, all glossy and kissable, were messing with my head.
And her hair. It was down her back, pinned with some fancy thing that made her look regal. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips pink and her thick eyelashes fluttered every time she peered up at me.
Our plan was probably insane. But she needed surgery, and I was in a position to help her. And I knew, deep down, that being married to Hazel, even for a short time, would change me. I was ready for it. When I looked over at her, where she was chatting politely with the clerk, it didn’t feel crazy. Strangely, it made sense.
When she returned to where I was standing against the back wall, I draped my arm over her shoulders, enjoying how she had to crane her neck to look up at me, even in heels. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
She watched me for a long moment, giving me the chance to study just how rich her chocolate brown irises were. Then she cocked one brow. “Getting cold feet?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am. Just wanted to be a gentleman and offer you one last chance to escape.”
Taking my hand in hers, she squeezed, her small, smooth hand fitting perfectly in my larger, callused one. “I’m all in,” she said softly.
I returned the squeeze. “Me too. Let’s get hitched.”
* * *
“So the JP started coughing?” Dylan asked over his bottle of beer. He had met us in Bangor, where we were celebrating with happy hour drinks—alcoholic for him; nonalcoholic for us—and pretzels.
