Chapter 8 #2
“Why’d you say yes?”
“To what?”
“To all of that.”
“I couldn’t say no.” I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling sick at the thought of letting someone down.
“Why not?” He shoves his hand in his front pockets, looking the picture of nonchalant, as if there’s nothing hard about saying no to people when they ask something of you.
I blink. “How would I even do that?”
“Do what?” The lines on his forehead deepen as he frowns.
“Let someone down. Tell them no.”
“Easy. You just say no.”
“That’s not easy.” I shake my head. “Just like asking for help isn’t easy either.”
“We can talk about how you can say no later.” Connor’s shoulders rise and fall as he blows out a long breath. “For now, we’ll focus on asking for help. I’m already here—just tell me what you need.”
“It’s not that simple.” I wring my hands together.
“Just hit me with it.”
I let the words fly out of my mouth in one breath without questioning them, scared that if I think about them too much I’ll never ask. “I need someone with a tow hitch to help me go pick up a flower truck that I bought, but it’s an hour drive away.”
“That’s not so bad,” he says, but I continue.
“The truck is a little rough, so I also need someone to help me figure out what parts might need replacing without getting seriously upcharged by the people at a shop.” I lean closer to him and whisper, “You know, like when I go in for an oil change and leave with a new air filter and blinker fluid.”
He stares at me blankly, like he doesn’t have a clue in the world what language I’m speaking.
Wonderful. If I continue sharing everything I need help with right now, maybe it’ll make it easier for me to ask someone to actually help later on.
Because there’s no way I’m asking Connor to spend hours every week with me.
That sounds like a recipe for a broken heart.
“Anyway, I want to make sure she runs smoothly, and she needs a serious facelift, if you know what I mean.” I nudge his arm with my shoulder like we’re co-conspirators.
“A good paint job and logo should fix her right up. And then there’s the whole matter of getting a new canopy to cover the back of the truck and buying some wood stands for the galvanized metal vases that will hold the flowers and bouquets I’m selling.
All of which I need someone to help me shop for.
It’s a whole ordeal. Oh, and did I mention that my goal is to have the flower truck ready to open so that my first event can be at the Dogwood Festival in April? ”
I smile sweetly, but I’m sure my eyes look a bit crazed. I know it sounds like a big ask.
There’s another long stretch of silence before Connor says, “Why do you keep calling your truck a ‘she’?”
“After everything I just said, that’s your question?” He offers the barest dip of his chin. “I’m naming the business Sunshine Blooms, so it’s not like the truck can have a masculine name.”
“You name your vehicles?”
I shoot him a look. “You don’t?” Let’s just say, if we were in a staring contest where the goal is to show no emotion, Connor would win, hands down. “Scratch that. For a minute, I forgot who I’m talking to.”
He rolls his shirt sleeve up and glances at his watch. “How late is the place where you bought the truck open?”
“Five. Why?”
Connor slides his sleeve back down and shoves his hand back in his front pocket. “If we leave soon, we should be able to make it in plenty of time.”
“Oh.” I shake my head vehemently. “I wasn’t asking you to take me to pick it up.”
“How many other people do you know that have a tow hitch?”
None. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
“I’m sure I know someone.” My voice comes out an octave higher, making me sound more unsure than the confident woman I’d rather come across as to him.
“I’m already here, and my truck is out front.”
“I guess you could just drive me to pick her up, if you really don’t mind.” I drop my gaze and rock on my feet. “I can figure out the rest, though.”
“I’m pretty good with my hands,” Connor says, and my eyes immediately move to his pockets. He clears his throat. “Er, handy.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I can build things.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“Mallory already volunteered me,” he interrupts. “I don’t mind helping on my days off. On one condition.”
I raise an eyebrow. He’s not one to ask much of people, so this has to be good.
“You let me help you learn how to say no.”
“I know how to say no.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re good at setting boundaries. You can’t tell me you’re actually enjoying trying to make those?” He gestures to the failed monkey balloon animals.
I purse my lips. No. I hate it. It makes my hands smell like latex for the rest of the day, no matter how many times I wash them. And tying the little knots hurts my fingers worse than the occasional thorn prick I get when working with flowers.
“That’s what I thought.” He crosses his arms, and I ignore the way the cotton material of his shirt pulls tight across his chest this time. “Do you even know what you like to do? Or do you just do whatever someone asks of you?”
His question feels like a gut punch. Emotion rises in my throat as tears sting my eyes, but I fight to shove it down. “I’m not sure,” I admit, my voice shaky.
“I’ll help you with your flower truck if you let me help you learn how to set boundaries. Learn what you like.”
My eyes drop to his lips. There’s one thing I know I’d like for sure: the feeling of Connor’s mouth on mine.
“Do we have a deal?”
“What are you getting out of this?” The arrangement all sounds a little one-sided.
“I like projects.” Connor shrugs. “Plus, it will keep me busy, which will give me a reason to tell my mom why I can’t go out with all the single daughters of her friends or a lady at church or her grocer. Basically, no dates. Really, you’d be doing me a favor, but it’s up to you.”
The thought of him not having the time to go on dates with another woman would definitely be an added bonus.
I look at him for a long moment before waving my hand and heading up the creaky stairs in our Victorian home to my bedroom.
“Come on. If you’re going to offer to help me, you may as well have all the information. ”