Page 21 of When Wildflowers Bloom

She tells Bo something about her plant, but I’m not sure what. My ears, eyes, and internal organs have all turned to some kind of sludge.

It’s only once Mabel’s, “Hubba, hubba. What have we here?” registers in my ears that I can function again.

Her walker scrapes against the concrete floor of the nursery as she gives Bo a red-toothed grin while she circles him like a shark.

“Mabel, this is Bo and his beautiful daughter, Lucy,” I say.

She eyes Bo like he’s the highlander of all her wildest fantasies.

“Mabel, it’s nice to meet you,” he says, reaching out his hand with a handsome smile that carves dimples into his face.

When she takes it, she looks at me. “Birdie, you’ve been keeping secrets from me,” she murmurs, holding his hand for much longer than necessary. “We might need to read some of that lumberjack erotica I was telling you about.” Her eyes slice back to Bo and she bites the air.

His lips press into a line—he’s either terrified or amused—and I squeeze my eyes shut. This woman—no filter or shame.

“On that note,” I say with a slight laugh. “Mabel and I have to get going.” I hold up my plant. “Lucy it was nice mee—”

“We’re going for ice cream next door if you want to come with us.” Her little voice cuts me off as she tugs Bo’s hand, begging. “Please, Daddy!”

My eyes meet his. There are a million and one reasons why I donotwant to do this.

Mabel doesn’t care or wait. “I love ice cream, lead the way, dollface.”

The decision is made.

Bo smiles, but it almost looks forced. Like he’s as unsure about this as I am. If he’s thinking what I’m thinking, then we’re both thinking: that night in the minivan ruined my life.

Lucy’s walk-skip stride and Mabel’s scraping walker lead us to the registers, out the doors, and across the parking lot to the ice cream shop. The door opens, greeting us with the aromas of waffle cones, coffee, and too many sweet things to name.

While everyone is distracted looking at the menu on the wall, I pull it up online and find they have a raspberry sorbet with minimal ingredients. Juice, sugar, and water. It’s as close to perfect as a dessert can get for me.

At the register, Mabel, Bo, and I all pull out our wallets.

“Mabel, please, my treat,” Bo offers.

“Bo y—” Before I can finish, Mabel is in fullforce.

“I have no problem paying for a Mountain Man like you.” When she wiggles her eyebrows, I give Bo a look that says,don’t bother. He listens, slipping his wallet into his back pocket.

“Well, I have no problem eating an ice cream bought for me by a woman likeyou,” he says, giving her a wink that earns him yet another saucy look from her.

Treats in hand, we find a picnic table outside. I’m quiet as Mabel tells Lucy mostly PG-version stories of her life. But when she starts with, “One time I was in Scotland, and I met a man…” I cut her off.

“Lucy, why don’t you tell us something about you,” I say, shooting Mabel a warning look that she scoffs at.

Once Lucy starts talking, she never stops. She tells us about every kid who was in her first-grade class and who she hopes she is with in second grade. When Bo gets ice cream on his beard, she tells us about how he always gets spaghetti noodles in it too. When she notices the tattoo at the neckline of my shirt, she tells us that her dad has tattoos on his back. I hide the fact my mouth waters at this visual, but it earns a sensual, “Ooh la la!” and lengthy wink from Mabel.

“Lucy Goosey, you can’t tell these ladies all my secrets,” he says to her, giving her a playful nudge before taking a lick of his ice cream that makes her giggle.

“Speaking of secrets,” Mabel says, white sheen of vanilla covering her lips as she pulls her notebook and pen out of her waistband. “Would you say you prefer top or bottom, Bo?”

Oh my God!

My jaw nearly hitsthe picnic table.

“Mabel!”I hiss, but she ignores me, eyes staying locked on Bo.

Instead of shying away, he grins, props his elbows on the table, tucked hair falling in front of his ears, and his brown eyes dance.

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