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“I didn’t ask for mittens. I have hot hands.” My attention flew back to Bailey. He held up hands the size of hub caps. “Not hockey-wise, I mean, just warm-wise. I’m always hot.”
That he was. Even with flyaway hair. “Right, so kitten flowers. How about something with some pussy willow branches? I should be able to order some.”
He smiled. The dimples appeared. My knees felt wobbly. “That’s cool. Yeah, pussy willows for sure. Oh! Maybe some catnip.”
That made me chuckle. I’d never been asked to include catnip in an arrangement before. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I was playingSpellborn Warslast night. That troll queen who guards the rainbow forest is brutal.” He tagged along behind me as I went to the cash register to find my order pad.
“Oh yeah, she’s miserable. And it’sincrediblyhard to get past her when you’re just starting out.” I wiggled behind the register, found my pad, and then made the mistake of looking at him again. He was so damn cute. It made thinking difficult. “I had to team up with another bard and we kept barraging her with sleeping spells.”
“Oh, a bard. Yeah, I’m an elven archer.”
I could see that. “My ferret is too.”
“An elven archer?” His one brow jumped up into his messy hairline.
“Named after one. Legolas.”
“Oh cool! I loveLord of the Rings. I had a parakeet named Gimli but my sister’s cat ate him.”
“And you want to send this cat flowers?”
“Live and let live, eh?” He shrugged and I think I actually sighed dreamily inside my head.
“So they say. I’ll need her address. Is she in Toronto as well?”
“Yeah. I am too. From Toronto.” He casually leaned on the counter, bringing his brow and mine close. I looked up from the pad at the same time he glanced at me. His eyes were even more stunning up close. Gold flecks danced among the green and brown. I watched something flare to life in his gaze. Then as quickly it was shuttered. He straightened. “I think I need to go. Home. To nap. I always nap after morning skate. And eat. We have a game tonight. So, thanks.”
His exit was speedy and flustered, just like before. I sat on the old stool behind the register, my head befuddled and my heart racing, holding Canadian money and an address in Toronto. The fundraiser ladies were staring at me.
“His sister’s cat had kittens,” I explained, which wasn’t an explanation at all, but it was the only explanation I had for them. And for me as well.
***
Over the next ten daysa pattern developed. One that I found utterly endearing and more than a little mystifying.
Every day at five after eleven Bailey showed up, pink in his cheeks, fresh from his after-morning-skate shower, to buy flowers. After the fourth day of this floral purchasing extravaganza I had started to suspect he was coming here to see me. Me—the much older, soft-bellied florist with old scars, both mental and physical—me. Why a young buck like Bailey would want to dawdle in my less than stellar presence was truly a question for the prophetess of Mount Tomb inSpellborn Wars.
That was the mystifying part. The endearing part was his reasons for purchasing flowers on a daily basis.
His dog’s birthday.
His teammate Scoot won the inter-teamSuper Mario Kartchampionship.
The TV series he liked had gotten renewed and he wanted to congratulate the star.
His dentist purchased a new X-ray machine.
I actually called him on that one, asking why anyone would care about the equipment his dentist used. He’d bumbled around adorably and finally said that a hockey player and his dentist were close. Which was legit. His excuses were becoming more and more outlandish as we went along. So when he appeared in my shop today, toque pulled down to his eyebrows as a winter storm lashed Albany, I enjoyed the uptick in my pulse then gave him a friendly wave from behind the counter. The snow had slowed the foot traffic into the shop but the phone had been ringing off the hook. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow and I did advertise that I delivered no matter the weather.
Looking at the sexy hockey player coated with snow, I was beginning to question the sanity of driving all over town in a storm. Hopefully, by tomorrow, the streets would be cleared. Snow and ice were a common thing for us here.
“Holy cow, it’s really snowing!” he announced to the empty shop. “I barely made it here. I need to get some good winter treads.”
“You’d think a boy from Toronto would be all about the studded tires,” I tossed out as he ambled toward the counter. He took great care to twist his big frame sideways to avoid the small displays and tables littering the showroom.
“Oh yeah for sure. I know better. My dad kept warning me but life is so busy, you know?” He sidled up to the counter, his smooth cheeks wet with melted snow. The urge to wipe the droplets from his nose was overpowering. I sat on my hands. While I suspected the man was interested in me reaching out to touch his face was a step too far. “Anyway, I need to order some flowers.”
