Page 13 of From Nowhere

“Are you always a smart-ass?”

I smile. “Yes.”

He rubs his fingers over his lips to hide his smirk.

“No one’s at my place tonight. Why don’t we go there, and you can dry your clothes in my dryer?”

He squints. “How far is that?”

“A mile or so.”

He nods. “What’s the address?”

“Ozzy. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I’ll get your vehicle wet. Besides, riding might help me dry out. Except ...” He unzips his jacket and pulls out yellow wildflowers that are droopy and a little squished. “I had them in my hand, but when it started to rain, I had to shove them into my jacket, which, in hindsight, is stupid because flowers can get wet.” He hands them to me.

“You brought me flowers?” I reach for them. “No one’s ever ...” I pause, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Given me flowers. Except when my brother died.”

Ozzy frowns. “Are you serious?”

Giving him a sheepish grin, I nod.

After a beat, he pulls a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket, but it’s stuck together. When he opens it, there’s nothing more than giant blotches of blue ink. “Uh, well, it was a note about the flowers. But I’ll just tell you, even though you probably already know.” He lifts his gaze. “They’re glacier lilies. After the snow melts, they are one of the first to bloom. And they are edible. But you don’t have to eat them.”

Flying gives me butterflies, the really good kind. No man has given me flowers or butterflies—until now.

“Oh!” He holds up a finger and smiles. “And I picked six for you because six is the smallest perfect number. The next perfect number istwenty-eight, but I stuck to a more manageable number and ethical harvesting.”

I’m speechless.

“So”—he clasps his hands behind his back—“I’ll follow you home?”

I shake it off, this surreal feeling. “Um, I’ll text it to you so you have it in case I don’t drive slow enough and I lose you.” I send him my address.

“What about dinner?” he asks.

“Pizza delivery?” I suggest.

Ozzy nods. “I’ll order it. What do you want on it?”

“I’ll eat anything.”

“Every man’s favorite line,” he says.

I dig my key fob from my purse and pause when his words register.

A shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Sorry. Too soon?”

I roll my eyes. “See you in a bit. Try to keep up.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says with a wink while bringing his phone to his ear.

I chuckle, walking toward my RAV.

After parking in the driveway, I run into the house, deposit the flowers in a mason jar (since I don’t own a vase), and ensure everything is picked up in my room. Will he be in my room? I don’t know, but a girl should be prepared.

While I’m shoving the last of my dirty clothes into the white wicker hamper, there’s a knock at the door. “Coming!” I steal sweatpants and a T-shirt from Will’s room and jog down the stairs to open the door.

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