CHAPTER 3
Unexpected Visits
Kathy — POV
Kathy didn't think about him the next morning.
At least, that's what she told herself.
The shop opened like normal. She watered the plants, checked the fresh delivery, rearranged the roses near the front window. Everything was routine. Predictable. Safe.
No strange men in expensive coats.
No quiet voices asking about apologies.
Just flowers. Just work. Just another day in Hood River.
By noon, she almost believed it.
Almost.
The bell above the door rang.
Kathy looked up automatically, expecting a supplier or a regular customer.
Instead —
him.
The same man from yesterday.
Same coat. Same calm posture. Same careful way of standing like he wasn't sure how much space he was allowed to take up.
But this time, something was different.
He looked like he already knew where he was.
Like he had been here before.
Kathy blinked once. "You're back."
It slipped out before she could stop it.
His eyes met hers.
A pause.
Then a small nod. "I said I would come back."
That was true.
He had.
Kathy straightened, trying not to react too much. "People usually don't keep flower promises."
"Maybe they should," he said.
That made her pause.
Then she shook it off lightly. "Okay... mister serious."
That earned the smallest flicker of a smile.
He stepped closer, but not too close.
Still careful.
Still controlled.
"You're busy?" he asked.
Kathy glanced around the shop. "Not really. Depends on your definition of busy. I'm always kind of busy."
"Good kind or bad kind?"
She raised a brow. "Both."
That got a quiet breath from him. Almost a laugh again. Almost.
She noticed that.
And for some reason, it made her feel a little more comfortable than she expected.
"So," she said, leaning on the counter, "did you come back for more lilies or more apologies?"
He thought about it for a second.
"Neither," he said.
Kathy narrowed her eyes playfully. "That sounds suspicious."
"I came back because I said I would," he repeated.
Honest. Simple.
But not the full answer.
Kathy studied him again.
There was something about the way he spoke that felt too controlled. Like he was choosing every word carefully, even when the question didn't need it.
She decided not to push. Besides, she had learned long ago that men with secrets were like wilting hydrangeas — pretty from a distance, but a lot of work up close.
Instead, she grabbed a small cloth and started wiping the counter. "Alright, Brad."
He blinked slightly.
"You remembered my name," he said.
"Well, you didn't give me much to work with," she replied. "Just 'tech guy' doesn't help in real life."
A faint smile.
"It's Brad," he confirmed.
"Cool. Brad," she said casually. "So, Brad, are you here for flowers again or just wandering into shops now?"
"Flowers," he said.
Then after a beat: "Maybe both."
Kathy laughed softly. "That's not very specific."
"I'll choose when I see them."
"That sounds like a dangerous way to shop."
"It works for me."
She shook her head slightly but found herself smiling. He was strange in a quiet way. Not loud or chaotic. Just... unfamiliar.
Like someone trying to learn how normal life worked by observing it closely.
She moved to the buckets. "Same kind as yesterday?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Apology again?"
A pause.
"No," he said. "This time... just flowers."
That surprised her more than she expected.
"Just flowers," she repeated.
"Yes."
"Okay," she said slowly. "That's new."
She began preparing a simple arrangement — mixed seasonal flowers this time. Soft colors. Nothing dramatic. Her fingers moved with practiced ease — snip, turn, place — a rhythm she had learned from her aunt twenty years ago.
As she worked, she felt his eyes occasionally drift to her hands, then away again.
Not staring.
Observing.
Like he was studying something he didn't fully understand.
"So," she said casually, breaking the silence, "do you always just walk into flower shops and buy things without a plan?"
"No," he said.
"That's comforting."
A small pause.
"I don't usually come back," he added.
Kathy stopped tying the ribbon for a second. "Ah. So I'm special now?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them slightly.
It sounded like flirting.
But she didn't take it back.
Brad didn't react the way she expected.
He just looked at her for a moment.
Longer than normal.
Then said, "I don't know."
That honesty hit differently.
Kathy cleared her throat and handed him the bouquet. "That'll be —"
He already had his wallet out.
Of course he did.
Same calm efficiency. Same lack of hesitation.
Still strange.
When their fingers brushed again during the exchange, it happened faster this time.
But she still felt it.
And judging by the way he paused just slightly —
so did he.
"Thanks," he said.
"You're welcome."
This time, he didn't leave immediately.
Instead, he looked around again.
But not at the flowers.
At her.
"You work every day?" he asked.
"Almost," she said. "Unless I can't afford not to."
That slipped out more honestly than she intended.
Something shifted in his expression at that.
Not pity.
Not judgment.
Something quieter.
Attention.
"You run it alone?" he asked.
"Pretty much," she said. "My aunt owns it technically, but she left me in charge. I like it that way."
"Why?"
Kathy shrugged. "Because it's mine. Even if it's small."
He nodded slowly, like he understood more than he said.
"That matters," he said.
Kathy leaned on the counter again. "You sound like someone who doesn't have many small things in his life."
A pause.
"I don't," he admitted.
There it was again.
That honesty that came too cleanly.
Too carefully.
Before she could respond, he looked toward the door.
"I should go," he said.
But again —
he didn't move right away.
Kathy noticed.
Of course she did.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Probably."
Another silence.
Not awkward.
Just... lingering.
Then he finally turned.
The bell rang as he left.
And the shop felt different again.
Not in a loud way.
Just slightly warmer.
Kathy stood still for a moment, watching through the glass.
He stopped outside again.
Same habit.
Same pause.
Like he was thinking too much about something simple.
Then he walked away.
Kathy exhaled slowly.
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "That's definitely not normal."
Normal with a capital N. Normal that made her check the door twice for the rest of the afternoon.
But even as she said it, she didn't feel uneasy.
Just curious.
Because whatever he was...
he wasn't like anyone she had met before.
And worse —
he was already coming back in her thoughts without trying.
She shook her head and went back to arranging flowers.
Trying.
Failing a little.
To ignore the fact that she was starting to look forward to the bell above the door more than she should.