Chapter 3 The Moon Lily Flower Shop
The Moon Lily Flower Shop
Dom
“Caramel Macchiato—large with only one shot, please.” I pull out my wallet and quickly tap my card to the reader.
Blythe’s face lights up with a grin. “Coming right up!”
She grabs a cup, uncaps the black marker with her teeth, and scribbles my name and a bee-themed message before she spins toward the espresso machine to begin my order.
The morning sun spills through the large windows, turning the yellow booths into a soft gold.
Soft lo-fi music hums in the background, blending with the gentle clink of cups and the murmur of conversation.
A few customers linger in their seats, savoring the slow rhythm at the start of the day.
And of course, Mr. Toade is already on his third cup, glancing out the window occasionally and grumbling good-naturedly at the mug as if it personally offended him.
The soft swish of a door swinging open, followed by the soft thud as it closes has my head turning to see Jas emerging from the back room, holding a tray of mugs. Her eyes light up, when she sees me, lips curving into a smile.
“Hey, you,” she says, sliding the tray onto the counter. “Here for your end-of-week coffee fix?”
I smirk. “Just one shot, trying to cut back.”
She leans into the counter, curls falling over her arched brows. “You? Cut back? Since when?”
“Since my wolf decided too much caffeine can make him…twitchy.”
Her laugh bubbles out, bright and warm. “So, the big tough werewolf can’t handle a little caffeine buzz?”
“Apparently not.”
I can handle caffeine. My wolf can—to a point.
He'll prowl my mind like a caged predator, pacing back and forth. Or worse, every sense kicks into overdrive while my heart races like I’ve run a marathon.
My pulse already runs high, my body naturally warmer than most. Maybe it’s because I’m finally creeping well into my thirties, but too much caffeine makes me shift into a mess.
“Do you want me to pick up the pizza after I get off? Bring it to your place?” Jas asks while putting the mugs away.
I decline with the shake of my head, feeling my locs sweep against my face. Blythe steps beside Jas to hand me my coffee. I take the cup with a grateful smile, murmuring a thanks. The warmth from the cup seeps through the honeycomb-patterned sleeve, warming my hand.
“I’ll order the pizza when you’re off and have it delivered,” I say. I really don’t mind. Plus, Seren likes to help. Her version of "helping" means looking at the pizza menu, suggesting we try a new pizza, or maybe get one of each. A proposition I have to gently say no to every time.
Jas's lips part, and a quiet sigh slips free, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. I know she wants to feel like she’s doing something, even if it's one small thing, on the days I have Seren. I've got it covered, but Jas doesn’t want to burden people.
“Just focus on work, and after that we’ll eat.”
“You’re the best,” she says, stocking a few more mugs. “And can you also get their new stuffed garlic parmesan twists with the spicy marinara? Please?”
I nod in agreement before taking a sip of my coffee. “Way ahead of you.”
“Text me if you need anything, ok? Tell Seren I love her and I'll see you both for dinner.”
“Will do. I’ll see you later.”
She waves goodbye before greeting the new arrivals.
A blast of cool air greets me as I step outside, making my way toward my flower shop.
I need to get a good chunk of work done before school lets out, and Seren needs to be picked up from school.
There aren't enough hours in the day, especially with wedding arrangements still waiting and a few orders I need to handle. Business is good.
I take another sip of coffee before rotating the cup to see today's inscription.
Bee-lieve in yourself.
The shears hold steady in my gloved hands. I clip each stem at an angle, carefully removing any thorns or low-lying stems that can hurt the flower’s quality of life.
The butcher's block serves as my daily assembly line of floral prep. I pull a few stems from a bucket, one at a time, snip the stems, and set them aside for the arrangements.
I glance around in the silence, my eyes taking in the colors.
Roses in pastel colors, reds, yellows, and white.
Blue hydrangeas and tulips, the color of a sunset.
Carnations, irises, lilies, moon lilies, and other enchanted flowers.
Sunlight spills through the tall windows, glittering on the petals stretching in each sunbeam for warmth.
Rainbows dance across the floorboards. The walls are painted a soft sage green.
Artificial wreaths with silk flowers are propped up on wall-mounted shelves near potted succulents and long vine plants.
A shelving ladder occupied with small potted plants balances in the corner, leaning against the wall, draped in fairy lights.
From the colors of the flowers to the thick, sweet air, it’s perfect here during springtime with the rainy and sunny days. The sound of the rain and the presence of the flowers calm my wolf.
When most people think of a werewolf, they think of danger, violence, and aggression. Yes, my wolf can be all those things, but the flowers create a balance. A yin-yang relationship. At times, a wolf needs to know it’s okay to stop and smell the flowers.
I grew up in this shop. The whimsical cottage-like storefront makes it fit right in with everything else, as if it’s growing right out of the cobblestone street with flowers and moss embracing the brick.
Large potted wildflowers stand on each side of the door, welcoming each customer.
The wooden sign hanging above the entrance was hand-painted by my grandmother when she and my grandfather opened it.
The Moon Lily Flower Shop.
My mother carried it on, weaving the shop into the very fabric of Everly Hollow.
I find comfort in pruning the stems, tending to the soil, and arranging flowers into a beautiful masterpiece. Flowers are living, breathing symbols of cycles, just like my wolf knows the cycles of the moon—growth, death, and rebirth.
I grab a few vases from the shelf and fill them with water to start an order being picked up this afternoon.
Carefully, I arrange stems in the neck of the vase.
Roses, baby's breath, eucalyptus, tulips, and a few other enchanted flowers. Moon lilies and the Odette, a bloom much like the dahlia, are my favorites. Sure, one main reason is that they’re enchanted, but also the emotions they stir up in those around them.
Their fragrance alone can change a mood if necessary.
I cut a few new stems to add to the arrangement when my ears perk up. The shears in my hand freeze, the blade resting against the stem just shy of severing it.
The wolf in me knows the sound of the voice outside these walls. I chuckle under my breath, but I smell it—lemon, butter, and sugar.
The hinges of the door creak, and a wave of cool air flows in along with the sweet, tangy aroma of the lemon bars Garruk is dropping off.
“Back here!” I shout, listening to the sound of his shoes on the creaking floorboards as he follows my voice.
I tuck the last stem into place and slide the vase to the side, and he drops the container onto the table.
“What chaos inspired these? Not that I’m complaining about your stress baking.”
The orc shifts his large, sturdy frame against the butcher block, crossing his arms over his flour-dusted apron.
“I’m glad you find joy in my suffering.” He runs a large hand through his dark hair, his expression darkening as his mouth pulls downward against his protruding tusks. His green face is seething with anger.
“What did she do now, Garruk?”
Whenever Garruk and Poppy occupy the same room, the air crackles with tension.
They hate each other. No, loathe each other.
Whatever happened when she first arrived in town a couple of years ago remains a mystery to the rest of us.
And after the argument during the fall festival last year?
They’ve perfected the art of pretending the other doesn’t exist.
He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, before his face tilts toward the ceiling like he’s begging for some Goddess for strength and to possibly intervene.
“She’s launched a new idea," he grumbles. "Claims it was divinely inspired or whatever. Spring Pairings is what she’s calling this season’s theme. Some fancy drink with a matching baked good.”
I nod, silently urging him to continue.
“She’s selling them faster than she’s fucking making them.” He waves a hand, brushing the words aside. “And she made sure I knew all about it." His jaw tightens. "The smug little witch.”
His bakery had been Everly Hollow’s only option until Poppy arrived. She came, she saw, and she leased the vacant storefront on the other side of Four Lanterns and renovated it into a rival establishment, The Sugarplum Bakery.
“Garruk, you’re a great baker, but you can’t let this shit continue.
It’s going to eat you alive, man. You’ll be stress-baking constantly, and I’m not going to be able to shed off the pounds, no matter how hard I try, or how fast I run.
” I cut a few more stems before setting them aside.
“You will come up with something, just take some time to clear your head.”
He releases a heavy sigh. His shoulders loosen a bit, like maybe he’s realizing I’m right, and he can get a handle on this. I set the shears down, take off my gloves, and add them to the pile.
I roll up my sleeves, and my voice is softer than I intended. “What in all the realms happened between you two? You went from acid-covered insults dipped in sugar to you two unable to share the same space. Every time you two are in the same room, it feels like it might implode.”
“Nothing happened,” he says, gritting his teeth. “She just irks me.” He clenches his jaw. Anger once again settled deep in his bones. He won’t even make eye contact with me.