12. The Language of Flowers
The Language of Flowers
Braden
“ D ang it.”
Mina’s grumble reaches my ears, and I pop my eyes open, a slow grin spreading across my face as she tries in vain to wiggle from my embrace.
Naturally, I tighten my grip around her waist.
“Are you trying to escape?”
She sighs and relaxes against me. “If you must know, I have to pee.”
“You could’ve just said that, because what you’re doing right now is taking this fake fiancé thing to a whole new level.”
I swear, I can feel her blushing through those wooly pajamas. Then again, I’m damn sure she can feel my cock—and he’s wide awake and raring to go.
“Are you going to let me up, or should I keep struggling?”
“Guess that depends. Which would you prefer?”
Mina giggles and delivers a gentle elbow to my ribs. “Men aren’t the only ones with a one-track mind.”
“Tell me more.”
She wrests free and hops out of bed, tufts of hair sticking out from her ponytail. “My mind has a singular focus right now. ”
“And it’s not me.”
“For the first time, no. But I’m sure the pendulum will swing back in your favor in about two minutes.”
Mina scampers into the bathroom, and I roll onto my back with a chuckle, tucking my hands behind my head as I gaze around the room.
They didn’t spare any expense on the décor, but like the rest of the resort, it’s tastefully done. No doubt her aunt chose these rooms to make sure I knew the depth of her pockets—which is silly, really, because Bitsy is a local legend.
I don’t know the Farnsworth family personally, but I know of them. Everyone in Sparkwood does. They’re old money, and their names decorate everything from hospital wings to the town library.
It’s hard to believe Mina is related to them, although it’s clear the relationship is built on a bedrock of guilt and expectations.
It’s also clear that Bitsy is going to do her damndest to make my life hell this weekend—and I hate to admit how much I relish the idea.
People love to underestimate me. I’m quiet and reserved, at least compared to Ash, and my colorful lifestyle brings with it all sorts of preconceived notions—mainly that I’m a delinquent with two things on my mind: sex and trouble.
Bitsy didn’t expect me to be familiar with Grayson Industries, and I’d bet my next commission she’d swallow her teeth if she got a glimpse of my stock portfolio.
I learned a long time ago that the best way to win at life is to move in silence. Don’t let everyone in on your next move—because then they’ll do their best to sabotage it.
The less they know, the less power they wield.
And Bitsy Farnsworth loves to throw around her name, and money, whenever and wherever possible.
I don’t give a crap that she hates me . I do, however, take issue with her less-than-stellar treatment of Mina. The woman is pure, unadulterated sunshine, and her aunt doesn’t see it.
But I do.
Mina is changing everything, and it’s not like she’s trying. Hell, she practically wore a blanket to bed, complete with cartoon animals.
And yet, that only upped my attraction.
I realize I’m going to have to take the lead after our late-night garden misstep, but that’s fine. It allows me to set the pace and ensure Mina experiences all the facets of love.
Not that I’m in love… or anything.
But I like her a whole damn lot. And I want her even more.
Plus, she was right. She is a great sleeping partner, even though I plan on razzing her about her nonexistent snores.
Way too much fun not to drop a few white lies, just to see her blush.
Mina walks out of the bathroom and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “All better.”
Guess it’s my turn. I swing my legs out of bed and stretch, working the kinks out of my neck.
Mina’s cheeks go pink. Again.
A glance downward explains everything. Still ready for action.
“Hey, I warned you.”
“Right.” She looks away, her tongue sweeping across her bottom lip.
Not helping, sweetheart.
I have two choices: grab her and make use of my morning wood or take matters into my own hands—literally.
Fuck, I hate my decision. But I stopped her the other night because I wanted it to be special. And a quickie with her bent over the dresser while I nail her from behind doesn’t exactly qualify.
Hot as hell? Absolutely .
Romantic? Not even close.
Besides, we have to face her aunt today, and Mina’s already rattled.
“Give me five minutes,” I tell her.
No, I don’t jerk off in the bathroom—though it’s tempting. But in a pinch, an icy shower does the trick.
I stroll out, running a towel over my head as a final shiver rolls through me.
“Are you okay?”
“Cold shower.”
Mina’s eyes widen at my disclosure. “That sounds awful.”
“At least I’m awake now. No coffee required.” I toss the towel aside and drink her in as she stands by the mirror. “Damn, but you are beautiful.”
She’s a vision. I’ve always been a sucker for sundresses, and Mina’s rocking the hell out of this pale green number. It shows off her legs—and I’m pretty sure they’re the greatest set on the planet.
Mina smooths her skirt and shrugs, releasing a nervous laugh. “You really think it’s okay? I have no idea how to dress for something like this. The dress is secondhand, which I’m sure Vanessa will point out as soon as she sees me.”
“Nope. You’re not doing that.”
“What?”
I step behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Putting yourself down. You need to own how incredible you are.”
“Except I’m not, Braden. I’m terribly ordinary.”
The worst part? She believes it. And that’s unacceptable.
“Want to know what I see?”
She scrunches up her face. “Probably not.”
“Too bad.” I run my hands along her arms, her skin soft and warm beneath my palms. “I see a vibrant, determined woman who worked her ass off for everything. You deserve all the accolades, even if the world’s been stingy in giving them. You’re a fighter, Mina.”
“Am I?” Her lower lip trembles, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I feel like a fraud. And a coward.”
“That’s where I come in. I’ll help you be brave until you can do it on your own.”
She exhales a shaky breath and nods. “Thank you.”
I press a kiss to her cheek, lingering for a moment to breathe her in. “Also, I forgot to mention—you have the most gorgeous legs. Just saying.”
That does it. She giggles and turns, wrapping her arms around my waist. “That’s obviously my most important quality.”
“Definitely,” I snort. “So, what’s the plan for today? What quests does Bitsy have in store for us? Jousting? Perhaps a duel?”
Mina laughs and waves her hand. “That would be less painful than what she has planned. Of course, you get a pass for the morning.”
“Really? How come?”
“Aunt Bitsy booked Vanessa and me with a wedding dress stylist.”
“You’re trying on wedding dresses?”
She rolls her eyes. “She claims it’s bonding time, but let’s be real—it’s time for her to pick me apart. One of her favorite pastimes.”
“That won’t happen. I’m going to be there, too.”
Mina shoots me a skeptical look as she grabs her purse. “Men don’t normally tag along for dress shopping.”
“I’m not most men. Who knows, I might even find you the perfect dress. Show them all up.”
“It would be nice to have a buffer between Aunt Bitsy and me. I’m well aware I’m not living up to her expectations.”
“What did I say about putting yourself down? Don’t make me whip out some old-school discipline on you, Mina. ”
“What does that mean?” That flush creeps into her cheeks again. She knows damn well what it means—she just hasn’t experienced it. Yet .
I loop an arm around her shoulder, barely hiding my grin when she initiates the kiss. “Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it.”
“So says you.” She pauses, resting her hand on my chest. “I wish all men were like you.”
“No way. Then I’d have too much competition.”
“Trust me—there’s no competition.”
She’s right. By the end of today, everyone at the expo will know exactly whose rings she’s wearing.
I know people spend a crap ton of money on weddings, but this is next-level.
The main ballroom is a flurry of activity, the numerous French doors propped open as vendors spill onto the stone patio and grassy areas.
Every facet of the wedding industry is here. Hell, maybe every company.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration—but this is twice as large as the tattoo expo in Vegas, and that’s saying something. Granted, the extracurriculars differ slightly. Here, it’s champagne and discussions about tying the knot. In Vegas, it’s beer and a far different variety of knots.
Guess where I feel more at home?
But then I spot a table labeled Build Your Bouquet off to the side.
Now this, I can get behind.
“How much time do we have?” I ask Mina, steering her toward the booth.
“About fifteen minutes. Why? ”
I motion to the sign. “Let’s start here. Have a little fun.”
Mina cocks her head, a sprinkle of laughter in her voice. “Really? You’re into flowers?”
I shoot her an exasperated look. “How many greenhouses do I have on the farm? I grew up around plants. Know pretty much every variety of flower.”
“So, you’re a floral genius, huh?” She taps her chin and gives me a playful hip check. “Why don’t we test that theory?”
“Bring it on, beautiful. I’m ready. Home run all the way.”
She exchanges a sunny smile with the florist before pointing to a pink flower. “What’s this?”
“Too easy. Peony.”
She throws up her hands in mock surrender. “Let’s kick it up a notch then, Mr. Big Shot. What’s that one?”
Talk about tossing me softballs. “Iris. Seriously, give me something harder.”
She purses her lips. “What kind of iris?”
“Now we’re talking.” Yeah, I’m showing off—but it’s fun to find something here that makes me feel like an insider. “Siberian iris. Symbolizes elegance and purity. Good enough description for you?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t know if you were right or not.”
The florist nods with a smile. “He’s right. On all accounts.”
“How do you know the meaning of flowers?”
Okay, that part is a little more embarrassing. Not exactly info you’d expect from the classic alpha male playbook.
I run my finger along the dark purple petals.
“My mom was obsessed with the meaning of flowers. The meaning of everything in nature. Growing up, she used to tell Ash and me stories about the fairy folk who lived in the woods beyond our house. Said they loved flowers and berries, so she always left some out for them.”
Mina places her hand on mine, her fingers delicate against my rough skin. “I believe her. That farm is magical. Then again, so are you. A man of many hidden talents.”
She doesn’t realize her innocent touch is damn near driving me mad.
Trust me, I’ve replayed that night in the garden a thousand times. In those versions, I don’t stop. I give in to every instinct and take her among the flowers, with the stars above us.
Every time, she’s perfection. A woman with a heart too big for her chest, more beautiful on the inside than the outside—which is saying something, because she could bring Paris Fashion Week to a halt.
I’m dangling on the edge of control, and next time… we’re not stopping. I’ll kiss every inch of her until she’s shaking with need and begging for more.
“Braden? Are you okay?”
Mina’s voice pulls me out of my fantasy, and I adjust my pants, realizing no cold shower stands a chance against my libido. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Her wide blue eyes search my face, framed by lashes dark enough to be illegal. “About what?”
I could lie. Say something generic and steer us toward safe waters.
But I’m done playing it safe with Mina.
“You. And how absolutely stunning you are.” I face her fully, sliding my hands up her arms to frame her face.
She trembles as my thumb traces her lower lip, and I nuzzle my mouth against hers.
When she moans into the kiss, I shift the angle, deepening it, pulling her close as she rises on tiptoe and tangles her fingers in my hair.
Jasmine and honeysuckle fill the air, blending with the scent of her skin. I cradle her head, greedy for more and not giving a damn who’s watching.
My tongue slides against hers, promising without words all the ways I plan to make her mine .
All the ways I’ll protect her from those who want to hurt her.
I break the kiss with a huff, resting my forehead against hers. “I needed that.”
“So did I,” the florist mutters with a grin, fanning herself. “You two are… something.”
“You really are a man of many talents,” Mina whispers, brushing her fingers across her kiss-swollen lips.
I grab a daisy from the table and tuck it behind her ear.
“What does this one mean?” she asks, checking her reflection in the mirror.
I brush her hair from her neck and kiss the delicate skin there. “Happiness. Beauty. Perfection. Basically, you.”
She flushes and nudges me with her shoulder. “That tickles.”
“That’s the point. And Mina? I’m just waiting for the right time to show you all my talents. So I hope you’re prepared, because I plan on taking all night with you.”
She turns, ready with a smile—but it drops.
Shit. What did I say?
Mina clears her throat and pastes on a polite grin. “Good morning, Aunt Bitsy.”
I huff out a sigh as the moment evaporates.
It’s game time.
Turns out, dress shopping isn’t nearly as painful as it sounds. Probably because Mina in a wedding gown is a religious experience.
Bitsy, true to form, tried to pick her apart—especially with the first couple of dresses. The first looked like Little Bo Peep , and the second, per Mina’s own words, made her look like an earthworm stuck in its casing.
Truly terrible choices.
But Mina just laughed and grabbed the next gown off the rack. The one I picked. Sleek, streamlined, and designed to keep the focus exactly where it belonged—on her gorgeous face.
Damn, she looked good in it.
Not fake-fiancée good. Real good. The kind of good that makes you forget this whole thing is a charade.
We even got roped into a photo shoot by the boutique owner, tux and all. Mina clutched my arm and smiled for the camera like she actually belonged there.
And for a second, I let myself believe she did.
But the best part? Mina had fun. Even if a few of the dresses missed the mark by a mile.
By the end of the appointment, even Bitsy was laughing. She made a comment about how refreshing it was I bucked tradition, unlike Vanessa’s fiancé, who was off playing eighteen holes at Aurum Ridge.
And that’s where I screwed up.
I let my guard down. Thought we’d turned a corner. Thought Mina was a lock for the studio.
Too bad it couldn’t last.