Chapter 7 #2
The first time I came in, drenched, freezing, and tired, I didn’t pay attention to anything but Matt and her.
Now? Damn, the place is cozy. The store isn’t big, but it’s warm and welcoming, with fluffy pink couches scattered throughout the sage-colored space.
A few readers are tucked into their own little worlds in the comfy armchairs, while others browse the shelves in search of their perfect find, their soft murmurs blending with the rustle of pages.
Lola stops in front of a collection of colorful spines. “What’s your spice level?”
I open my mouth, but quickly snap it shut. Finally, I say, “My what?”
“Spice level. I’m sorry, you might not be familiar with that term. Are you comfortable reading sex scenes?”
“Oh.” Cue the warming cheeks again. “Um… I’ve never thought about that before, but I guess, yes.”
Lola’s lips curve upward. “I’ve got just the thing to get you started,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, while she rummages through the shelves. “There.” She pulls out a thick book with a half-naked man on the cover.
I blink at it, then gape at her. “You want me to read this ?”
She pats my shoulder, her expression sparkling with mischief. “You’ll thank me later. This one’s got the perfect balance of steam and plot. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and…” She leans in and cups a hand to her mouth. “You’ll definitely need a fan and charged batteries.”
Winking, she presses the book into my hands.
“Let me know what you think when you’re done.” She’s already striding to the counter. “Or when you want to talk about the scene in chapter fourteen.”
I stare after her, the book hanging from my hand.
And then I laugh.
The genuine sound catches me off guard. It’s been a while since I’ve felt the serotonin boost that comes with it. “I’ll keep you updated.”
Did Rosie really send me here for a book rec, or could she have magically known that Lola would be exactly what I needed today?
“Any other plans for this afternoon?” Lola asks, settling behind the counter.
I drop the book on it and dig my wallet out of my purse.
Just as I slide my card out, she lays her palm gently over mine.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”
I frown, still holding the card. “Are you sure? I can pay.”
Smiling, she waves it off. “I know you can. It’s not about that. Consider it a welcome-to-town gift and your official introduction to smut.”
Bewildered by her generosity, I tuck my wallet back into my purse. Guilt stirs in my chest, and I rub the spot where it settles, easing the discomfort. Bonding with the locals has been surprisingly effortless. Once they learn the real reason I’m here, I doubt they’ll still think the same of me.
“Thank you,” I say, pushing the feeling away. “I’m strolling around town today, following the list Rosie made for me. I can’t believe how nice everyone has been so far. Well, minus when I first arrived.”
Although Matt definitely made up for it.
“Pine Falls is magic like that,” Lola says softly. “That’s why it’s always packed during tourist season. It has a way of pulling you in and forcing you to take a break from your life.” She places the book in a tote bag and holds it out to me. “And who wouldn’t want to escape for a bit, huh?”
With a grateful nod, I take it. “I guess you’re right.”
Maybe it’s the town, or maybe it’s Lola’s easy confidence, but this moment feels important. I just can’t put my finger on why.
“Thanks for the book and the chat,” I say as I head for the door. “ And for introducing me to a new genre.”
Lola grins. “Oh, sweetie. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
Something stirs in my gut, as if her lighthearted comment struck true. She doesn’t know the half of it.
My last stop of the day, according to Rosie’s list, is Daphne’s Wildflowers. When I pause in front of it, I suck in a breath. It’s beautiful.
The expansive windows built into the lavender-painted wood facade are decorated with dozens of carefully arranged flowers. The shop’s name is written on one of the windows in cursive lettering, partially covered by a waterfall of ivy.
Outside, in front of the entrance on the cobblestone street, there’s a chalkboard sign with a neatly handwritten message.
Bouquet of the day: Wildflower Daze.
Phone out, I snap a photo of the store with the chalkboard sign and send it to Mom.
Zoey
Seems like a store right up your alley.
She reacts to the photo with exclamation points.
Mom
You have to send me the address! I’ll stop by when I get home from Norway.
Leaving tonight for my research seminar and won’t be reachable for the next few weeks. Hope your dad isn’t being too hard on you. Love you, honey.
I send her a heart and lock my phone. At fifty-five, my mom still strives to learn more about her passions. I admire her so much for it. To be honest, I wish I were more like her in that department.
When I push the boutique’s door open, I’m greeted by the soft ambient music playing and a multitude of scents wafting through the space.
But the sight in front of me is what stops me in my tracks.
With his back to me, working on a bouquet at a table behind the counter, a leather apron wrapped around his waist, is a tall man with dark blond hair tied into a bun.
Oh, god. I’d recognize that hair anywhere.
I freeze for a moment, my heart racing against my ribs, my throat dry. Then I finally croak, “Matt?”
He snaps upright and spins around, his mouth hanging open. “Zoey? Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Taking a stroll. What are you doing here? Do you work at the store?”
He removes his gloves, sets them on the table, and I’m definitely not staring at the way his sleeves are rolled up at his forearms. Or how his hands grip the edge of the counter when he comes to stand in front of me.
Seeing them in person after dreaming about them for the past week is hitting me harder than I expected. Damn it.
“This is my store.”
I snap my attention to his face. “You own Daphne’s Wildflowers?”
A glint of amusement dances in his irises. “I do. Are you surprised?”
My chest tightens a fraction. “Yeah. I don’t know. I thought you were more the cutting-wood-in-the-forest type or that you built stuff with your…” I lower my focus to where he’s still gripping the counter, heat rushing to my cheeks. I clear my throat. “Hands.”
Matt follows my gaze. “I get that a lot. But yes, this is my shop, and I’m the florist.” He nods at the flowers on the table. “Would you like a bouquet? I don’t usually take same-day orders, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He punctuates that sentence with a wink, and my pulse skips.
I have a hard time maintaining my composure around him, and it’s becoming an actual problem.
I’ve really misjudged him, haven’t I? This man keeps shedding layers, and the more he does, the more I want to stick around to discover what’s hiding beneath the next one.
“I did come in to get flowers, but I didn’t know you were that busy. You don’t have to bend your rules for me.”
He gestures toward another table where a variety of fresh flowers are already set out. “I’d love to create something for you. What do you need right now?”
I blink. “Need?”
His lips curve into a ghost of a smile. “Flowers have meanings. They’re not just pretty things to look at. Some are for love, others for healing. Depends on what you’re after.”
I’ve never viewed flowers that way. I rarely paid much attention to how they made me feel or what they meant, except for the fact that I’ve always associated them with my mother.
So I suppose they bring me peace.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” I finally say. “What do you think I need?”
He arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m scared this is gonna backfire on me, Zoey.”
Shivers spread across my skin, prickling down my spine. The way he says my name, like he’s taking his time to taste it on his tongue, makes my knees wobble.
I’m weak. I’m so weak.
“Promise it won’t.”
“Okay, then.” He moves around the space with ease, plucking stems from vases.
He pauses for a moment, his gaze flicking between two sorts of flowers like he’s deciding which ones would suit me the best. Finally, he grabs a handful of pink and white lilies, then some lavender. The rest I don’t recognize.
When his selection is made, he lays the flowers in the middle of the table and arranges them. Watching him work is mesmerizing. His fingers shift with grace and care, as if this is second nature for him and he could do it in his sleep.
Wow. Not gonna lie. This is doing it for me.
“I see you found your way to more comfortable clothes,” he says, focused on his task.
I frown. “My clothes are comfortable.”
That makes him pause. He looks at me like he’s calling bullshit.
“Okay, yes,” I sigh. “This is definitely a better option for here.”
That pulls a chuckle from him. Then he’s back to work. “It looks good on you.” He keeps his attention riveted on the stems, as if I shouldn’t take his words as a compliment.
Even so, my pulse kicks up a notch.
He wraps twine around the bundle of flowers, then holds it out to me. “Voilà.”
I take it and turn it from side to side, admiring his work. The foliage woven together with flowers in shades of pink reminds me of summer mornings. “It’s beautiful, Matt. Thank you.”
His gaze on me is a physical caress. I keep mine on the bouquet, giving him time to take whatever he needs from me.
“What kind of vibe did you go for, then?” I ask eventually.
“Why don’t you tell me?” He nods to the bouquet. “How do you feel?”
I bury my nose in the flowers and inhale the multitude of scents until my muscles loosen and the knot in my throat—one I didn’t realize even existed—dissolves.
“Relaxed.”
Finally, I look up, finding Matt watching me. An emotion flits over his face, but I’m not fast enough to decipher it before it’s gone.
“Lavender and freesias for calm when your days get too intense; lilies for confidence, when you need that extra boost; and alstroemeria for support when you feel alone,” he says, his voice soft.
His words land too close. My stomach knots, and I look away before he can realize how true they’ve hit. How did he see the feelings I’ve been working so hard to keep at bay?
“Zoey?”
I meet his gaze. “How did you know?”
He shrugs, his mouth ticking up a fraction. “I’m good at my job.”
He says this like it’s every florist’s job to know exactly who their clients are and what they need, but the reality is that this man pays attention.
The bouquet turns heavy in my grip, so I set it down.
Matt’s eyes follow the movement, his expression dulling. “It backfired, didn’t it?”
“No, no. It’s just…” I rack my brain for a way to explain my spiraling thoughts that won’t make him follow up with a hundred more questions.
I feel too exposed, too vulnerable. Nobody has put me in this position in the last twenty years.
Alarms blare in every corner of my body.
So I do what I do best when the emergency response has been triggered.
I play it cool. I brush it off. “I didn’t know I was giving off this vibe. But thanks. It’s beautiful.”
Matt cocks one eyebrow. Dammit. For a moment, I brace for his usual wit and quick retort. But his expression smooths out, and he simply says, “I’m glad you like it.”
Thank god . I’m not ready for this level of scrutiny, especially from a man I know nothing about and didn’t expect to see again after…
He clears his throat. “I was about to grab a coffee. Do you maybe want to—”
His question is interrupted by a shrill ringing. On autopilot, I fumble for my phone. As I register my dad’s name on the screen, a loud clink resonates through the store.
I startle, eyes darting toward the sound.
Matt is already bending down, retrieving a pair of scissors.
When he straightens and sets them on the table, his face is unreadable, his mouth pressed into a firm, unforgiving line.
“Sorry, I need to take this.” I shoot him an apologetic smile and shuffle a few steps away. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hello, princess,” Dad booms. “How’s the trip going so far?”
My focus flicks to Matt. “Good, good. Been settling in before diving into work.”
“Any updates?”
“None for now. I can’t do anything until…” I glance at the man hovering nearby again and lower my voice. “The town hall. But I’ve been doing the rounds, chatting with locals and trying to get a good sense of the town.”
“Don’t get too comfortable with these people, Zoey. They look after their own. They wouldn’t know good business if it slapped them in the face. If they don’t get their tourism activity under control soon, their town will be a complete circus in no time. Trust me.”
A pang of guilt pokes at me. “I won’t. Don’t worry. Can I call you back?”
“You have more urgent matters to attend to? If you’re waiting for the assembly, I doubt you’ve got anything better to do than strategize with me.”
“I’m in a store,” I say, lowering my voice even more. “I can’t talk right now.”
There’s a pause on the line, followed by a sigh.
“Don’t disappoint me, princess. I met with the shareholders this week.
My retirement has been discussed, as well as my replacement.
They’ll be considering your ability to take over at the next meeting two months from now.
The hotel deal in Pine Falls needs to be done by then. ”
“Dad, I’ll call you back.”
I hang up before he can add anything else and walk back to Matt, who’s arranging another bouquet. “Sorry about that,” I say, forcing a smile. “Overbearing parent.”
He hums, his focus glued to his work. “No problem.”
“You were going to say something?” I hedge, a flicker of hope that I have no business feeling rising in my chest. “Before my dad called?”
“Nope,” he says, still avoiding my gaze. Then, “Actually, yes.” Finally, his eyes meet mine. They’re full of an anger I don’t understand. “Next time, maybe don’t pick up your phone while you’re in the middle of a conversation. It’s fucking rude.”
I gape, blinking.
“You think I’m the rude one? Yeah, okay.” I snatch a hundred-dollar bill from my purse, drop it on the counter, and grab the bouquet. “Thanks again.”
“You got it.”
I close the door behind me and inhale deeply, willing the fresh air to clear out the confusion swirling in my mind. What the fuck is his deal?
The wind has picked up, and the sun is setting, the temperature slipping into chilly territory.
I peer into the store, where Matt is working away, not giving me a second thought. Back to being an asshole, I see.
At least it’ll make it easier to focus on what I came here to do.
No more distractions.