Chapter 12
12
ALEX
L ooking around the huge workshop, I’m stunned by just how many kinds of greenery and different shades of green are packed onto the shelves. Leaves of every shape and tone. Vines…baby trees…some odd slightly twisted spikes with yellow edges.
Everything is so fresh and alive. Maybe I really have had my head buried in my work if I’ve never noticed that indoor plants truly are energizing.
I love that Jasmine has a job where she’s surrounded by nature and beauty. Where she’s in control of the work she does. Where she’s genuinely happy.
That’s all I want: for her to be truly happy. Which might mean I’ll need to ramp back my workload. No more zoning out for weeks at a time – even if it means hiring more staff. We certainly can afford it, after several great years in a row.
Wandering along the shelves, I wonder what kind of plants will end up in my office. I hope I get that tall one with the airy leaves, it’s fun. Stepping closer to it, I feel something shift near my waist, then there’s a dull thud.
Looking down, my heart sinks when I see that I’ve knocked one of Jasmine’s twisty spiky plants off the workbench. Dammit. It’s fallen right out of the pot, with its bare roots on the chilly floor. That can’t be good.
Think fast. Fix this.
Bending down, I lift it gently, checking to see how the others are set in their pots. I carefully straighten it in the center and replace the soil around it. It feels kind of dry. Maybe these were about to be watered? It takes a minute to get the pointy leaves standing relatively upright, but at least the roots are tucked into the dirt again.
I hear a gasp and look up to see Jasmine staring at me.
“I’m so sorry.” I scoop a few last handfuls of soil into the pot and straighten up. “I turned to look at that fluffy tree and my elbow hit this little guy. He fell right out, but fit back in the pot pretty well, I think. The roots were exposed for a minute, but I covered them up as fast as I could. Is that…bad?”
Her bottom lip quivers. Is she blinking away tears? Now I’m seriously worried. “I… I didn’t kill the little guy, did I? I thought that plants were sturdier than that.”
“They are. It’s fine.” She takes the plant from me, setting it back on the bench and popping in a bit of extra soil. “It shouldn’t have exposed roots for hours, or they might dry out. But half a minute is totally okay.”
I sigh with relief, then examine her expression. “Then why do you look so upset?”
Her breath is shaky. “Look, I don’t know how to be in a relationship, or read people, or tell people what they want to hear, or any of that.”
“Sweetheart, all I want from you is honesty.” My lips drift across the top of her hair. “Please. Tell me everything.”
She laughs awkwardly. “I… I was worried that you’d be unable to deal with the dirty parts of my job. And, you know… the messy parts of life. Like if a toilet breaks, or a baby needs its diaper changed, or a toddler is eating mud.”
“Oh my God…” I hug her close, running the heel of my hand up and down her back so my dirty fingers don’t touch her shirt. It feels like my chest has been unzipped. There’s room to breathe, now that I know what the problem was.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I promise, I’m only a clean freak at work.” I kiss her hair again. “And in restaurants. Hospitals. Okay, at the dentist too. Places where it really should be extremely clean.”
I step back, pointing to a big gray bin of dark stuff. “So… What’s this?”
“Coco coir – shredded coconut husk. You mix it with perlite and soil to make a lighter potting mix so plant roots don’t get waterlogged.”
“Do you need some help mixing it? You helped me at my work. Fair is fair.”
“Sure, thanks.” She points to the next bucket. “Two handfuls of that needs to be mixed into the black tub.”
“What is it?”
Jasmine grins, watching my eyes carefully. “Mix of chicken and sheep manure. We have a couple of huge composters in the back – a few local farmers drop off the good stuff for us in exchange for flowers for their wives.”
This is clearly a test. I plunge a hand into the mixture without hesitation, crumbling the dark fertilizer. “Full of nitrogen, right?”
“Yup.”
I blow her a kiss. “Then let’s get dirty, baby.”
Over the next half hour, I learn all about the different potting mixes for various kinds of plants, how to repot, tamp the soil down, and water them thoroughly. All the while, I carefully make zero effort to keep any part of myself dirt-free.
Once we’re scrubbing our hands in the industrial sink, I trail a wet finger along Jasmine’s neck to push her hair out of the way before kissing right under her ear. “Thank you for telling me what you were worried about, baby. I really appreciate it. Now I know what to work on with you.”
“You really want to work on…” Her fingers wave between the two of us, splashing a few water droplets on the front of my shirt and hers in the process. “This?”
“This, as in, we are a couple and this is happening, and I think we’re going to be great for each other?” I nod. “Heck yeah.”
Her expression shifts. “Um, Alex,” she says softly, “I can tell what a plant needs by glancing at it. But, like I said before, sometimes I’m not so good at reading people. So please always feel free to just tell me if you think I’m missing a point, okay?”
“Done.” My lips brush her forehead. “Jasmine, I have all sorts of big mushy romantic feelings for you that I’ve never had before. It might take some time to sort them out.” I swear, a shiver runs through her as she stares up at me. “Do you feel the same way, baby?”
The second she nods, my lips descend to hers. She sighs as I caress her, then she realizes I’m drying my hands on the butt of her jeans. She does the same with my dress pants, leaving both of us laughing.
“We’re going to be so good for each other,” I say softly, pulling her closer. “I’m too obsessive. Type A in every way, as Carol always says.”
“Hey, when was the last time you sent Carol flowers?”
“On her birthday. Why?”
“Without her ordering you to de-stress, you wouldn’t have had an excuse to talk to me. Let’s go put together a bouquet for her.”
“Anything you want, gorgeous.”
I’ve done many odd things in my life, but choosing from various kinds of big square-ish roses is a first. But I think Jasmine appreciates the attempt even if I don’t know what a gerbera daisy is, or if it goes with lilies and those weird ferny branchy things.
Jasmine teaches me the code used when describing an arrangement. If it looks traditional and proper, florists call it “classic”. If it’s weird or offbeat, it’s “funky” or “eclectic”. Something old-fashioned or mismatched gets categorized as “rustic”.
Her mother and sisters are lovely, and seem thrilled that Jasmine and I are clearly together.
I can’t help noticing how often people come into the shop just to chat with Dahlia, not to buy anything. She’s just as friendly, but the light in her eyes always dims after people leave without her making a sale.
Once I pay for the bouquet we’ve designed, Jasmine joins me outside the shop. “Once you get all of the plants arranged however you like at my company, you’ll come every week to care for them, right?”
“Yes. We’re still figuring out our corporate program, so I’m sorry, I don’t know what the rates are yet.”
My hand waves dismissively, then tucks around her waist. “Whatever it ends up being, I want to be sure I’m paying full price. No boyfriend discount or anything.” Her expressive eyes light up. “You like the word boyfriend, baby?”
Her chin tips up and down quickly. “I…yeah… I had no idea how much.”
“Good. Does my lovely girlfriend have a business card?”
“There’s the store card. Shall I grab one for you?”
“Actually, no. Let’s wait until you have your corporate program set up. Hopefully you’ll add a page to your website dedicated to it. I have a lot of connections around Kingsville. I’ll personally message everyone and recommend you.”
Her hand flutters over her heart. “Oh, I can’t ask you to?—”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. I want to secure the future of your family business.” I smile. “That’s totally separate from the future of us, by the way – which, I hope, includes me picking you up in an hour for dinner at my place?”
Jasmine’s arms circle my shoulders as she pulls me in for a kiss, making the cellophane of the bouquet I’m holding crinkle. She nods to the arrangement. “I hope Carol likes them.”
“She already likes you, and that’s the real point.” My lips brush her ear. “So do I. See you soon.”