Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fiona
I was sitting at Granny’s kitchen table, pretending to do homework, when my phone buzzed.
Jasper: Important question.
I stared at the screen with my pencil hovering over my calculus textbook.
Me: That sounds dangerous
I put the phone down and tried to return to the equation in front of me. Thirty seconds later, it buzzed again.
Jasper: Favorite flower?
I frowned.
That was the important question?
Me: Why?
Jasper: It’s for important research.
Me: What kind of research?
Jasper: The old ladies are taking a poll.
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Of course they were. I pictured the women at the Silver Shadows’ clubhouse sitting around with coffee while Jasper got volunteered to gather completely unnecessary information.
Me: Peonies and ranunculus.
His next text came quickly.
Jasper: That second one sounds made up.
Me: It’s real
Jasper: Favorite color?
Me: Green.
Jasper: Dark green or light green?
I stared at the screen, shaking my head.
Why did the shade matter?
Me: Deep green. Like pine trees after rain.
That felt oddly specific after I sent it. Like I’d handed him something instead of answering a question.
Jasper: Favorite candy?
Me: You’re asking a lot of questions
Jasper: I’m thorough.
That was one word for it.
Me: Chocolate-covered caramels.
Jasper: Noted.
I narrowed my eyes at the phone.
Me: Why are you noting it?
Jasper: No reason.
Me: Jasper
Jasper: Fiona.
I could almost hear the amusement in his voice.
Me: You’re impossible
Jasper: Yet you keep answering me.
He wasn’t wrong. I could’ve ignored him.
Could’ve told him he was being weird. Instead, I’d just given him my favorite flowers, favorite color, and favorite candy without making him work very hard for any of it.
He’d become so easy to talk to that I didn’t think about what to say. The answers just slipped out.
I put the phone down and stared at my calculus book.
Peonies.
Ranunculus.
Deep green.
Chocolate-covered caramels.
What the hell was he doing?
Three days later, on Valentine’s Day, I was wiping down the counter at the Creamery when the bell above the door chimed.
I looked up and a delivery driver stood just inside, holding a bouquet so large it nearly hid him.
My hand froze mid-swipe when the driver glanced around before spotting me behind the counter. “Delivery for Fiona Mitchell-Steiner?”
My stomach flipped. “That’s... that’s me.”
He came toward the counter and set the bouquet of peonies and ranunculus down. The soft pink and white petals topped long stems that were wrapped in a deep green satin ribbon.
For a moment I forgot how to breathe.
“There’s a card,” the driver said, pointing toward the small envelope tucked among the flowers.
Right! A card.
My fingers shook as I pulled the envelope free.
For Ma Belle. Happy Valentine’s Day.
There was no name on the card; I didn’t need one to know who had sent them.
Sugar appeared beside me and stopped short when she saw the arrangement. “Holy shit.”
“I...” My voice failed.
She looked from the flowers to me. “Who sent those?”
Before I could answer, the bell over the door rang again, and Georgie walked in. Of course he did because this was my life.
His eyes landed on me, then moved to the flowers. His entire face changed when he asked, “What’s that?” as he headed toward us.
I looked pointedly at the enormous bouquet. “Flowers.”
“I can see that.” He came closer, his attention narrowing on the arrangement. “Who sent them?”
Sugar stepped between us before I could answer. “Georgie. Leave it alone.”
He looked at her as if she’d suggested something completely unreasonable. “Leave it alone? Some guy is sending my baby sister flowers—”
“She’s eighteen,” Sugar interrupted, folding her arms. “And she’s allowed to receive flowers without you interrogating her about it.”
“I’m not interrogating—”
“You are.”
Georgie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know who sent those?”
Sugar didn’t flinch. “That’s not your business.”
“Like hell it’s not.”
“George.” Her voice sharpened, and even he seemed to realize he’d pushed far enough.
Everyone in Rosewood called him Georgie.
So when one of the women called him George, he knew they were serious.
“I said leave it alone. Fiona doesn’t need you hovering over her like she’s a child.
She’s an adult. She can handle herself.”
“Can she?”
My shoulders stiffened.
Sugar stepped closer to him. “Trust me on this. Let. It. Go.”
For a second, neither of them moved. Then Georgie looked at me, and some of the fight drained out of his expression.
“Fine.” His voice softened slightly. “Just... be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I promised.
He held my gaze another moment before turning and leaving without another word. The bell jingled behind him, and only after the door closed did I realize I’d been holding my breath.
Sugar turned back to me.
“You know who sent them,” I said.
It wasn’t a question; it felt more like a confession, but I wasn’t sure what I was confessing to.
Her lips curved into a small smile. “I have a pretty good idea.”
I glanced toward the door Georgie had just disappeared through. “Are you going to tell Georgie?”
“No.”
Relief came so fast my knees almost felt weak.
Sugar touched one of the petals, her expression turning more serious. “But you need to be careful, Fiona. If it’s the man I think sent these flowers—” She paused, searching my face. “He doesn’t do anything halfway. When he cares about someone, he cares completely. And that can be overwhelming.”
“I know.”
Her hand stilled against the flower. “Do you?”
Her voice was soft enough that the question landed harder.
I looked at the flowers. “I think so.”
Sugar studied me for another second, then nodded. “Okay. Just don’t let anyone, including Georgie, pressure you into making a decision before you’re ready.”
I nodded. She squeezed my shoulder and disappeared into the back room. My phone suddenly felt very heavy in my apron pocket. I pulled it out.
Me: The flowers arrived
Jasper: What flowers?
The innocent response nearly pulled a laugh from me.
Me: The ones with peonies, ranunculus, and dark green ribbon.
Jasper: Sounds like someone has excellent taste.
Me: Georgie wants to know who sent them.
Jasper: Tell him a secret admirer.
Me: He threatened to interrogate every man in Rosewood
Jasper: That should keep him busy.
I bit my lip.
Me: Did you send them?
The three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. Suddenly I was questioning everything I thought I knew.
Jasper: Do you like them?
My throat tightened.
Me: I love them
Jasper: Then yes.
I stared at the answer.
He sent them.
He’d really sent them.
I knew he sent them despite not signing the card. He was the only person I knew who called me Ma Belle.
Me: You didn’t have to do that
Jasper: I know.
Me: Why did you?
Jasper: Because you should get flowers on Valentine’s Day.
That answer was almost too simple.
Me: You probably sent flowers to several women
Jasper: Only two. The other one is my mama.
My heart tripped. He had sent flowers to only two women. His mother was one of them, and I was the other.
Me: You flirt too much
Jasper: Only with one woman.
I stopped breathing again.
Me: I don’t believe you
Jasper: One day you will.
I lowered the phone. One day. Not maybe. Not if. Jasper said things like that as if the future had already introduced itself to him.
I looked at the bouquet again. He’d remembered everything. Not approximately. Exactly. The flowers. The shade of green. Even the ribbon. Three days ago, I’d thought he was asking pointless questions. Now the answers were sitting in front of me.
That should’ve made things clearer. It didn’t. Because flowers were easy. Beautiful, expensive, thoughtful. But what did they mean? Was this Jasper being Jasper? Charming. Attentive. Good at making a woman feel special?
Georgie certainly thought so.
Sugar didn’t.
And I had no idea which one of them I believed.
My phone remained in my hand. I read through the messages again.
No joke afterward.
No little escape hatch.
That was becoming harder to dismiss.
I looked at the flowers again. Maybe the problem wasn’t figuring out whether Jasper wanted something. Maybe the problem was figuring out what I wanted if he did.
That answer was a lot scarier.