5. Emma
CHAPTER FIVE
EMMA
“Who’s at the store?” Aaron asks while I’m still reeling from the other things he’s said. I’m soaking wet, but it’s not cold, which is somehow worse. Everything feels hot and drippy, and that’s good for plants, but not so much for humans.
I blink. “Uh, Tahlia came by after school for a few minutes.”
And she can’t stay forever , I remind myself. I glance over to the row of shops that line the back of the park, and my floral shop is a couple down. The rain has slowed into a misty drizzle, and I just want to go home, shower, put on my fluffiest set of joggers, and curl into bed with my phone.
Aaron’s face darkens, and I’m sure he’s about to go into Venus Fly Trap mode again. “What are you doing tonight?” I blurt out .
He lifts his chin slightly, those brown eyes so pretty. “You are not asking me out on a date.”
“I…” I trail off, because I was going to suggest dinner. But the way his eyes shoot lasers at me makes my throat dry right up.
“I’m stuck in consults all afternoon,” he says. Then he looks down at his sopping clothes. “Maybe I should reschedule.” He only lifts his eyes, those eyebrows also cocking up. “I only have a few more days—well, nine—until I have to be out of Liam’s hair, and my house isn’t exactly ready for me to live in full-time.”
“But you’re living there,” I say.
“Partially, yes,” he says. “I don’t shower there, because I’m not quite done with the bathroom.” He slicks his hands through his hair again, and then down his beard. And holy vines and cherries, he should be arrested for what he’s done to my pulse.
And thinking about him showering?
Puppies , I practically shriek to myself. One if by land, two if by sea.
M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I .
“So I need to spend all my spare moments at my house,” he says. “But I can order whatever you want for dinner, and maybe you could just come…hang out.”
“No,” pops out of my mouth before I can think too hard. Or at all.
Aaron’s cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. “Sure, no. Okay.” He’s been stuck over against the far railing of the gazebo, and he starts toward me.
I realize what I’ve said, and I dart in front of him. “I mean—I don’t mean no.” I flatten my palm against his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles that his wet tee shows me.
His eyes meet mine. “What do you mean then?”
“I meant, I’m too old to hang out with men. We’re not fourteen.”
“I’d like to see you,” he says.
I give him a coy, flirty grin. “We’re seeing each other right now.”
“Are you going to respond to what I said at all?”
I swallow my smile. So many things blitz through my head, and it’s hard to seize onto just one thing so I can say it. “I don’t want to be friends either.”
Pure hope enters his expression, and he searches my face, his eyes darting left-right to each of mine. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “But, Aaron, I’m…” I sigh, because how does one sum up all of their dating failures in just a few words?
His fingers slide between mine. “If I can arrange it, maybe you could come by the house after you close up, and I’ll stop working to have dinner with you.”
“I don’t want to cause you a delay.”
Aaron leans closer, his eyes falling closed as he takes a deep breath. “You’re worth it.” He straightens and ducks his head again. So not a bad boy.
I squeeze his fingers. “Are you going to be the golden retriever or the Doberman?”
A slow, sexy grin slides across his lips. Oh-so-kissable lips, and I rip my eyes away from them. “Depends on how my consultations go.”
I return his smile. “So you’re a moody canine.” As I stand there in this leaky gazebo, the rain petering to nothing, holding hands with Aaron, I realize I’ll rearrange anything to drop by his house that evening.
“I’ll text you about what time tonight,” he murmurs as he releases my hand. “I have to get back and get things rescheduled.”
“I need to get back too,” I say.
“I can catch you up on the Spring Fling tonight too.”
“So it’ll be a working date,” I say as I fall into step beside him, he takes my hand again, and we go down the steps to the path.
“It’ll be a talking date,” he corrects me. “And we’ll talk about the Spring Fling and the weddings and…whatever else you want.”
Whatever else I want.
A kissing date?
I shove the thought away, because the fear threading through both chambers of my heart tells me it might not be healed enough to start kissing hot and handsome handymen for real .
We reach the gate that leads to the back of our shops, and Aaron slows. He still wears a slightly Doberman-like look in his eye as he glances over to me. He pulls his hand away, and says, “I’ll text you back.”
“Mm-hm,” I say. “You better.” I give him a spicy look of my own, and then head for the back door of the floral shop. I don’t need to make a fool of myself more than I already have, and I feel like the whole world has grown eyes and is watching me as I walk back to the shop.
When I reach the back door and open it, I glance over to the hardware store bay. Aaron’s not there, so not watching. Still, my lungs still feel like they can’t get enough air, and there’s no way I can keep working in my wet clothes. I’ll be frozen to the bone in a matter of minutes inside Sir Chills.
Tahlia is perched on the stool behind the cash register, and she drops her phone as her eyes widen when she sees me. “What on earth happened?”
I look down at myself, horror moving through me when I see the color of my bra through my cream-colored shirt. “Yes, I’m wearing a pink bra,” I say.
And surely Aaron saw it.
Then I ask, “How long can you stay? Long enough for me to run to the Big House and change?”
Tahlia cocks her head. “Why were you outside?”
She’s going to have so many more questions, and part of me just wants to vomit up everything, call an emergency roommate meeting where Tahlia will get out the pink fake-mic, and everyone will help me riddle through the past twenty-four hours.
Another part of me wants to figure things out on my own, and a third part of me shouts about how much work I have to do, not only for the shop, but for the upcoming weddings.
And now, I’m going to have to put in an extra rose order and prep those for the singles event I don’t want to do.
“Aaron needed some air,” I say, and I turn to go back to my office to get my keys. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes,” I say, since I have to drive twenty to the Big House, and then twenty back.
“Get ready to talk,” Tahlia calls after me. “Lizzie’s going to stop by with pizza so we can help you get caught up on orders.”
My stomach drops to the soles of my feet, and I want to rage at Sir-Chills-a-Lot for forgetting to remind me I’d asked my roommates to come in for a couple of hours tonight. I won’t be able to go to Aaron’s after that, not without a major to-do. And not if Lizzie’s stopping for pizza.
“Okay,” I say as I duck into my office. It’s not until I’m halfway to the Big House that I realize what I agreed to.
Get ready to talk.
“Great,” I mutter, but maybe it is great. Maybe I don’t need to keep everything bottled up, only confessing to my walk-in refrigerator, and wishing That Special Someone will come into my own flower shop and buy me the arrangement of my dreams.
When I get back to the shop, Lizzie’s car is parked against the fence, and I jump out and hurry inside. I didn’t eat lunch, and the scent of marinara and extra cheese greets me the moment I pull open the back door.
Lizzie and Tahlia are laughing, and that also lifts my spirits. “Hey,” I say breathlessly as I arrive in the front of the shop. Lizzie and Tahlia both sober, and they exchange a glance with one another that makes my throat close.
“What?” I look from Lizzie to Tahlia and back.
A long moment of silence fills the shop, wherein I move over to the box of pan pepperoni pizza and take a piece. “Someone better say something.”
“Aaron came over,” Lizzie says like she’s saying it rained earlier.
I freeze with my favorite food only a couple of inches from my mouth. My heartbeat crashes against my ribs, and I force myself to take a bite. Cheesy and herby goodness meets my taste buds, and I moan.
Tahlia smiles and hands me a napkin.
“Okay,” I say. “So Aaron came over. So what?”
“He seemed a little put out that I’d brought dinner.” Lizzie raises her eyebrows.
“Seemed surprised to see us here at all,” Tahlia says, and she’s the worst at nonchalance. Everything is chalant for sure.
“I, uh, didn’t have time to text him.” I take another big bite of pizza to buy myself some time, but Lizzie is well-versed with this tactic, and Tahlia teaches junior high. They so have me beat.
“Yes, he barked something about how he’d forget about dinner, and he’ll text you something about the dates for a meeting?” Lizzie steps over to me and takes the half-slice of pizza in my hand. “Emma. Stop eating and tell us what’s going on.”
I swallow and wipe my face very deliberately. Then I say, “What’s going on is that dealing with Aaron is like riding a roller coaster.”
“That man likes you,” Tahlia says.
“Yes, he told me this afternoon,” I say, lifting my chin and tossing my hair over my shoulder.
“Oh,” Tahlia says. “I wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge it.” She looks over to Lizzie, who takes a bite of my pizza, the traitor.
I sigh, deciding I better just get everything out. I take my pizza back from Lizzie, glare at her, and say, “Fine, Aaron and I had planned a little date tonight after work, and I just forgot I’d asked you guys to come help.”
“We can reschedule,” Tahlia says.
Lizzie nods, still chewing her pizza.
“No,” I say. “I have to get all the arrangements done for tomorrow and Friday, so I can spend my time here working on the wedding.” I look around at my cozy shop, my safe space, everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Hey,” I say. “Someone got the ‘You’re Succulent’ arrangement.” I smile, pure happiness moving through me. I step over to the empty spot on the shelf and move the other arrangements so it doesn’t look like there’s an empty space there.
“Who got it?”
“Just some guy,” Tahlia says over the top of Lizzie, and I turn in time to see them exchange another glance. I don’t even care at this point.
I finish my pizza and say, “Let’s get going, because maybe I can still make it to Aaron’s for dinner.”
“Take two minutes to check your phone,” Tahlia says. “He muttered something about that on his way out too.”
My throat tightens as we all move toward the back room where I make the blooming magic happen, because I did storm next door today and demand Aaron pay more attention to his device.
I pull my phone out, and my mouth goes dry as I see how many times Aaron has texted. Eleven.
“For the love of lavender,” I mutter as I start to read through them. Dates of the meeting. That he’s rescheduled his last two consultations. That he’ll order my favorite Thai for takeout that night. I just need to text him when I’m leaving the shop .
All the sweetness I’d expect from Mister Nice Guy Aaron.
After that, the texts turn Doberman-like as Aaron morphs into a thorny rose. I sigh, because while Aaron and I are friends and we’ve known each other for a while, he clearly doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.
So I let my fingers fly, telling him something I don’t tell very many people. I send that text, and then more, finally telling him I’m going to silence my phone so I can get my work done while my friends are here, and then I do exactly that.
“Sir Chills,” I murmur as I head for the cold room to work. “It would be great if you could get us out of here in time for dinner.”