Page 38 of Bloom

Instinctively, my heart drops to my stomach.

“What was Hunterreallydoing on his knees?”

Choking on a relieved laugh, I shake my head as I get to my feet. “I should’ve kicked you out with Mark.”

12

There’s a lot of work to do around the ranch.

Yet he spends most of his day thinking about bright pink BandAids.

The smellof beer and pretzels greets me as I shove open the door to Bishop’s.

I would’ve preferred not to return a mere forty-eight hours after scraping my dad off the pavement outside, but Tommy called. Let me know that along with his dignity, my dad left his wallet here. And because I’m a spineless wimp who can’t say no, I came to get it.

Head down, I walk quickly to the bar, ready to get this over with; I’ve had a really, really bad couple of days, and I’m not in the mood to pretend I haven’t. Behind the counter, there’s a guy polishing glasses, and when he sees me, he smiles, one hand lifting in a wave. “Hey, Line.”

“Hi, Tommy.” I remember him now; hewasone of Jackson’s teammates. I remember him always being nice to me. I remember my friends thinking he was hot. I can’t say I noticedat the time, but they weren’t wrong; with sandy blond hair and pretty green eyes, he’s the kind of pretty that’s almost too perfect. “The wallet?”

“Straight down to business.” Tommy chuckles. “Eager to get out of here, huh?”

I wince apologetically. “Sorry. Busy day.”

“You work at Bloom, right?”

I nod, nervously fiddling with the edges of the bandages covering my palms—pretty pink ones with an orange flower pattern so the sight of them makes my chest ache a little less. The edge of one curls upwards, the stickiness lost, and as I get distracted trying to smooth it down, I miss whatever Tommy says next. “Sorry, what?”

Unoffended by my absentmindedness, he smoothly repeats himself, “I said you look good.”

Liar, a voice in my head snorts.

“Thanks,” my actual voice chokes out, my cheeks surely bright red so I duck my head to try and hide them. “You too.”

I watch his elbows hit the counter, feel the shift in the air as he leans towards me. “I do, huh?”

Is he flirting with me? It sounds like he’s flirting with me. I almost laugh out loud—of course, he’s flirting right now, while I’m here collecting my drunkard father’s forgotten wallet two days after he was tossed out of here by the flirt himself. Seriously, the universe has a hell of a sense of humor.

Just once, I’d like to not be the butt of the joke.

“You know,” he keeps going, stooping to try to get in my eyeline again. “I always had a crush on you in high school.”

He’s messing with me. Or the universe is messing with me. Or a secret third party is messing with me; a reality TV show host is about to pop up with a camera shouting‘gotcha’at any moment. Or I’ve misheard him, misunderstood him, which is why I stutter, “What?”

Apparently, Tommy finds my flustered state amusing because his mouth stretches even wider. “I liked you. But obviously, you were with Jackson.” He leans in even closer, dropping his voice to a murmur. “But you’re single now.”

He’s not asking, yet I clarify anyway. “Uh-huh.”

“You free Friday night?”

My mind goes blank, any and every word in my vocabulary evaporating.

I think Tommy senses my panic. Straightening up, he lazily raises his hands, palms out. “No pressure. If you’re free, you’re free. If you’re not, you’re not. It’s okay.” One hand drops to reach beneath the counter, producing a napkin and a battered piece of leather I recognize as the wallet I bought Dad for Christmas at least a decade ago. Setting both down, he fishes a pen out of his back pocket and scribbles something on the napkin before sliding it towards me. “If you don't call, I’ll take the hint.”

Like a deer in headlights, I look between the ten digits and Tommy, with his genuine, endearing grin. Briefly, I consider what would happen if I took his number. If I actually used it. If I went on a date for the first time in years with someone other than—

“Jackson. Hey.”

I blink out of my reverie, and into a nightmare.

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