Page 54 of Bloom

Taking a step back from the cheek-kissing, compliment-giving man, I flinch when I bump into a broad, warm chest. Eyes momentarily closing, I inhale a steadying breath; of course, Hunter is bearing witness to this… God, thismating ritual. This unwanted, and what will undoubtedly end up being unfruitful, set-up.

Of freaking course.

I start to mumble an apology—for bumping into him or for subjecting him to another one of my many humiliating moments, who knows?—and move aside, but I shut right up when a hand lands on my hip.

Holds me in place.

Wrecks my composure a little more.

Uh.

Okay.

I will my flushing skin to calm the hell down as I focus on the only man not flustering me to death—instead, he's only making me imaginehisdeath. “Aldo, you remember Hunter.”

“I remember him.” My friend smirks, and his impending demise becomes a little more graphic. “I didn’t realize you were friends.”

Hunter pats my hip bone. “We are.”

Do I relax a little? I’m pretty sure I do. I think I relax a lot, actually. And I think a silly little voice in my head is going to be chanting‘we are! We’re friends! He said so!’for an embarrassingly long time.

Aldo’s hum is curious, his eyes promising we’ll discuss this later, his mouth opening to say God knows what, but I beat him to it. “We’ve gotta go,” I blurt. “Busy day.”

I don’t give Aldo a chance to stop us; I just grab Hunter’s wrist and tug until he follows me, blindly waving goodbye to the two Italians without looking back. “Nice to meet you!”

I hear them return the sentiment before there’s a rapid-fire burst of Italian. Only catching the wordragazzo, I frown. Boy? That’s odd. I distinctly remember Aldo insisting Hunter to be the opposite.

We pass half a dozen stalls before I deem us a safe enough distance away. Hastily releasing Hunter, I step away as much as the crowd ebbing and flowing around us will allow, flexing my tingling hand and offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

Hunter’s blank expression gives nothing away.

“Aldo’s not usually that…” Weird? Lie. Pushy? Another lie. Hellbent on ensuring I’m not doomed to a life of solitude? Three for three. “He’s a really good friend.”

I frown when Hunter grunts. I thought we were past the barely-verbal non-answers. The avoidant eye contact, too. I try to sway into his eye line, but it remains focused back the way we came.

“And the other guy?”

“Uh.” I shift from one foot to the other. “We’ve never met before.”

All I know is he’s a handsome—confirmed—nice boy—unsure—who was raised right—nothing to substantiate that claim, but nothing to refute it either—and thinks I’m beautiful.

“Anyway.” I lighten my tone and try to steer the conversation in a direction that doesn’t make me want to burrow into the ground. “You ready to shop?”

Finally gracing me with his gaze, Hunter smiles. A tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but a smile all the same. “Lead the way.”

By the time I finish my rounds, The Roberto Incident is but a blip in an otherwise good day. I’m beaming, freakingbeaming, as we wander back to my truck, my arms full of the best flower crops yet this summer.

And I beam some more when I glance at Hunter, equally laden down—a huge, intimidating man cradling a bunch of roses? Definitely beam-worthy. Red roses, to be specific, since I let him choose. In fact, a lot of today’s haul is various hues of red because I figured letting Hunter pick some stuff out would make up for the hours spent trailing me.

“Thank you,” I say softly once we’re inside the truck, seatbelts buckled, backseat a sea of fresh blooms, engine started. “I know that was kind of boring.”

Hunter slumps in the passenger seat, propping his forearm against the open window. “I wasn’t bored.”

“You seemed a little bored.”

Not, like, rudely bored or anything. Just... I don't know, a little distant, maybe? He was his usual quiet self, which is nothing new, but he seems less tuned in than usual. Normally, I can tell when he’s listening. He’ll let me yap on and on and on without making any real contribution to the conversation, but I know he’s paying attention.

Today, I wasn’t so sure.

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