Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

ULRICH

Nolan seems a little more relaxed as he settles in the chair opposite. Less tense than I’ve seen him so far, though this is no surprise. This morning I burst into his life with flowers that weren’t for him, and this evening I’m back with a sudden invitation. I still can’t get over him accepting that. Now that I’ve spent a few minutes in his company I can see there’s hurt and pain in his past. He was spooked just coming in here and he mentioned a bad memory. Maybe I was a bit too forward, but damn, there’s something about him that makes me want to kiss those cares away if he’d let me.

His attempt at humour shows a glimmer of something other than the gruff exterior I’ve seen so far, and I’m intrigued to know if he has a gooey centre.

“How long have you been into floristry?”

“Huh?” His question startles me and I realise I’ve been staring at him, his grey eyes that have settled like a sea on a calm day and his lips that look so irresistible. I shake off the need to find out what those lips taste and feel like, and engage my brain. “As long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is spending holidays with my grandparents. My grandpa was the gardener at Larchdown House, working for Frances Winterton, and I loved it when he took me along with him to work. I guess he taught me my love for flowers.”

I pause and take a drink of my beer.

“You didn’t go into gardening?”

“I studied horticulture at uni and my plan had been to garden like my grandpa, but when I did a floristry unit I fell in love with making beautiful arrangements. The use of shape and colour, and how different flowers and foliage work together. I found I was good at it and enjoyed it.”

I stop as I realise he’s smiling at me. It’s the first proper smile I’ve seen. It’s not huge, and only just reaches his eyes, but I find it dazzling anyway. I can’t help but return the smile. He holds my gaze for a few brief seconds before dropping his eyes and picking up his beer. It’s a start, like he’s thawing towards me, and I no longer feel like I’ve made a huge mistake asking him out.

“Do you work for yourself?” he asks when he puts his glass back on the table. I get it, he’s asking questions about me so I don’t ask any about him—either that or he really is interested. I doubt that, but in any case I answer him.

I tell him how I started my company when I moved to the area. I’d inherited my grandparents’ cottage a few years ago and decided to live in it and start my own floristry business. Before then I’d been working for a florist down in Hampshire, where I’m from. I now occupy a shop close to the cottage and have an assistant, Ross.

By the time I’ve finished telling a brief version of my story his posture has eased, his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. His shoulders are no longer hunched.

“It sounds like you’re doing well. What plans do you have for the future?” he asks. I instantly recognise the interest of a businessman and wonder what he does. I endeavour to find out.

“I’d like to make displays for events, weddings, parties, and corporate events. Something with a theme where I can create a range of structural pieces as well as matching table centrepieces. I’d really like to give events the wow factor.” I get carried away telling him some of the ideas I’ve had about architectural displays and overhead table arrangements. His smile returns. Its brilliance distracts me and I come to a stop mid-sentence.

“What is it?” he asks.

I run a hand over my face, smoothing my beard. I know it’s a thinking gesture but I watch as he tracks my movements, his eyes darkening slightly. It’s the first time he’s looked at me with anything other than just tolerating my presence.

“You were smiling.” Simple and truthful.

He leans forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees.

“You sounded so passionate about your job, I couldn’t help it.” He smiles again. “I rarely come across someone who seems to love their job as much as you do.”

This time his gaze lingers on me and I swallow at its intensity.

The moment is ruined by my stomach rumbling. I’ve been so busy delivering flowers for Valentine’s Day that I’ve not had a chance to eat lunch.

I wince slightly and he huffs a laugh. “Would you like to eat?”

We make our way to the buffet table and pile our plates high with food. As we’re heading back to our corner of the pub a mountain of a man steps into our path. Keith.

“Hello!” he booms at us, his astute eyes taking in that we’re clearly heading towards a table—together. “So glad you decided to join us.”

I see Nolan’s face close down, the scowl returning. I wonder why, but I’m given no time to ponder.

“Did the flowers find their rightful home?” Keith continues.

“Yes, thank you.” I make a move to walk around him. He seems friendly enough but I’m more interested in eating. Now I have sight of food, my stomach is roiling with hunger.

“Sorry Keith, I haven’t eaten all day and this looks delicious.” I raise the plate slightly to make my point.

“Of course. You two enjoy yourselves.” He waggles his eyebrows and stands aside and allows us to pass.

“Friend of yours?” Nolan asks as we sit, his brows so low they darken his eyes to near black.

“I never met him before today,” I say, taking a bite out of a sausage roll. “Do you know him?” He certainly claimed no acquaintance with Keith but his presence had an effect. I was pleased to see Nolan relaxing previously but now the tension is back.

“No, I only met him earlier.” Nolan puts down his fork and sighs a little. “I came over to see what was going on when he was decorating outside. I thought it might be a place to eat tonight. I said I was too busy.”

Ah, that explains it. “Sorry, did I keep you from something else?” He didn’t mention he had other plans.

“Only a microwaveable meal and a book.” His face eases and he relaxes again, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “You could say you saved me.”

I flick him a look as I lift a small pie to my mouth. There’s a glimmer of that intense look before it slides away again, leaving me a little warmer than I was before.

“So why didn’t you seem pleased to see him?” I ask, probing a little into his response.

“I just don’t like to be seen to be a liar.” His mouth briefly sets into a grim line.

I catch a glimpse of a guy who takes himself very seriously, probably a very successful businessman.

“Just tell him you had a better offer.” I give a little shrug and a smile, and somehow that works some magic on him and he actually chuckles. It’s deep and low, like a babbling brook on a summer’s day. I want to hear it again, over and over.

He glances across the pub and I follow where he’s looking. Keith is moving between people, greeting them, playing host.

“I bet you he’s the biggest gossip in this town,” Nolan says.

I giggle in agreement, and when Nolan swings his head back to me at the noise, his whole face has transformed into one of amusement. He’s handsome anyway, but with a relaxed look and a smile he’s breathtakingly gorgeous. I just stare at him for a minute before breaking off and applying myself to eating my dinner, my cheeks burning that I’d been caught staring at him.

He doesn’t say anything and we eat in silence for a few minutes, while I contemplate that he’s way out of my league and I don’t know what I was thinking of asking him out. Though I’m curious to know how someone like him could be single.

“So, did you find out who Pookie is?” His question startles me out of my reverie and I look up to see a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.

“I did. Grumpy Bear and Pookie are a lovely couple called Grant and Steve.” I cast my eyes around the pub which is now quite crowded. I spot them at one of the tables set romantically for two and point them out to Nolan.

“Do you think everyone knows their nicknames for each other?” he asks.

I press a hand firmly to my chest. “Well they wouldn’t find out from me—florist’s honour.”

“You told me,” Nolan says, smiling.

“To be fair, I thought you were Grumpy Bear.”

“I was certainly doing a good impression of one,” he says, and I wonder what it took for him to admit it.

“Keith says they met at this event one year. How romantic is that?”

Darkness skitters across Nolan’s face but just as quickly it’s gone.

“And they say romance is dead,” he says with a little sigh.

“I hope not!” I exclaim. “I’d go out of business.”

“Ah well, we can’t have that, can we?” He laughs and I laugh with him, delighted that I’ve managed to amuse him.

We continue talking, and I learn that he lives in Oxford and co-runs his own business with a friend, an American he met at university. That they’re an engineering solutions company, and part of why he’s in Larchdown is for a meeting on Monday with a potential new client. Though, given we’re less than twenty miles from Oxford, it doesn’t explain the weekend stay.

All too soon the pub calls time and we have to leave. We walk back across the village green to the cottage. He goes through the gate and I stop on the pavement. He turns to face me.

“Thank you. I’ll... um... be going.” I tilt my head towards my van parked on the street.

“Yes, okay.” He looks a little surprised. Was he going to invite me in? “Thank you, Uli. I had a lovely time tonight.” I guess no invite then.

“Me too.” I pause and he watches me. This is awkward. Is he waiting for me to do something? Say something? It’s not a date because, well, it’s not. So as much as I want him to kiss me, it’s clear he was just with me because he had nothing better to do.

“Well, good night Nolan.” I give a small smile and turn.

“Good night,” he calls after me. I open the door of my van and get in, and when I look back at the cottage the front door is just closing. I try to shake off the sense of disappointment. I admonish myself for thinking there could have been anything more, and take comfort from the fact I didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. I had the company of a very handsome guy, even if it was clear he wasn’t into me. I release a big sigh as I start the van and head home.