Page 86 of The Floral Arrangement

“Okay, now it feels like you’re just grasping at straws. If you’re worried about the farm, then just take things slow with her. But from what you’ve said, she’s actually been a huge help with the farm so far. And on the age gap, if she was twenty, I’d be more worried. But she’s in her thirties and has her shit together. Don’t kid yourself that you’re much more mature than her.” There was a pause and then Matt yelled, “You idiot!”

I did a double-take, my brow furrowing. “That’s a bit harsh.”

Matt laughed. “Sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. Someone just cut me off. Look, I’m nearly at work, but please don’t dismiss the idea of dating out of hand. I really think it could be good for you.”

My neck prickled. “I don’t even know what she wants. She might think the whole thing was a huge mistake.”

“Well, you’ll only find out if you talk to her.” The turn signal clicked again. “Sorry Roz, I’ve just arrived. I’d better go. I’m already a few minutes late. But I can talk later tonight if you want.”

“Thanks. I’m so glad Mel is okay. Tell her I said hi and to stay safe.”

I hung up with Matt and turned toward the farmhouse, making my way back through the orchard.

I passed a low branch full of blossoms. The image of me trailing my mouth slowly down Olivia’s delicate neck to her collarbone, drinking in her faintly floral scent, slammed into me, leaving me slightly winded and full of desire. Goddamn, I wanted her. And I missed her.

I groaned. As I’d said to Matt, I didn’t know what Olivia wanted.

I stepped out of the orchard and back onto the dirt road. The domestic bliss of the weekend—cooking and eating together, watching movies together—had fueled my assumption Olivia wanted a serious relationship. But we were also friends. And those activities were also things that friends did. I bit my lip. Was there a chance we’d unwittingly fallen into a friends-with-benefits situation?

My step lightened. That could be the answer. We could still hang out together, still sleep together, just without the risk of our hearts being broken. If we went into it knowing it wasn’t going to last, that it wasn’t anything serious, surely we’d be more prepared when it ended, right? It wouldn’t need to be for long, just until the infatuation we were feeling wore off. And then we could drop the benefits bit and return to just being friends.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

OLIVIA

“Come on,”I muttered under my breath as I crouched down on the grassy lawn at Prue’s vineyard, holding a tent peg steady with one hand while the other hand lifted the hammer. I needed the arch to be nice and secure. The last thing I needed was for a gust of wind to knock it over, taking out the high-profile bride and groom in the process. I could just see the news headlines now:Breaking news: Floral arch kills happy couple moments before exchanging vows.I gritted my teeth. The hammer made contact with the peg, but instead of driving into the ground, the peg fell down for the fifth time in a row.Goddamnit.

I glanced around. Lines of empty white chairs covered the lawn, ready for the wedding later this afternoon. A few feet behind the arch, rows of grapevines stretched out, their bright-green leaves unfurling after a winter of dormancy.At least no one’s around to witness my ineptitude.

Usually, I enjoyed wedding setup, but today, everything seemed to be going wrong. I’d forgotten the chicken wire and had to rush back to the shop to get it. An hour ago, I realized I’d underestimated how many lilacs would fit in the large vases inside the venue and had called Dana in a panic asking if she had any more I could use. As a result, I was running short on time.

I wiped the back of my hand against my forehead. Even after not having seen or heard from her for five days, Roz was still throwing me off my game. All week, I’d been having flashbacks to our weekend together, triggered by the smallest of things. Sitting on the couch, an image of me writhing on it under Roz’s naked body would strike me out of the blue, sending tingles shooting to my core. Opening the front door to Sapphire Blooms, the sensation of being held against it by Roz’s firm hands would hit me. A woman’s voice faintly resembling Roz’s would bring back memories of Roz murmuring “good girl” in my ear. And then I’d remember Roz’s abrupt disappearance. If I hadn’t been struck by a particularly vivid, high-resolution image of Roz reclining on the chaise lounge while I was packing, I was sure I wouldn’t have forgotten the chicken wire.

I took a deep breath, lifted the hammer and swung it down again.

“Fuck!” Pain shot through my finger as the hammer smashed into it, sending tears welling in my eyes.

Blinking furiously, I examined my finger. A shadow fell over me.

“Are you okay?”

My heart leaped so ferociously I wobbled and nearly fell.

I knew that voice.

Brown work boots appeared, a foot away from where I crouched.

I knew those boots.

I looked up to see Roz peering down at me, her brow furrowed. Forget butterflies, my stomach felt as though it was bursting with winged unicorns, flapping wildly and poking me with their horns. I’d been thinking about this moment since Sunday, but I still wasn’t prepared for it.

I swallowed. “I think so.” I bent my finger. “It still seems to be working. What are you doing here?”

“Good. You need working fingers… to do your flower arrangements.” Roz crouched down next to me.

I resisted the urge to inch closer to her, to breathe in her scent I’d dreamed about every night, to run my thumb down her jawline, put my hand on the nape of her neck and pull her lips to mine. I sunk my teeth into my lower lip instead, avoiding direct contact with Roz’s eyes.

“I’ve got the lilacs in the van,” Roz said. “And Dana said you were sounding a little stressed, so I’m also here to help—if you need me.”

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