Page 2 of Forget me Knot
“I know my stuff,” I shoot back. “These babies know who’s boss.”
He chuckles, and we settle down, working side by side in comfortable silence, just the snip of shears and the hum of my makeshift melody. It feels cosy and natural, like we’re two pieces of the same puzzle that happens to be a bit frayed around the edges. He is an alpha of few words, but he knows how to get my blood racing. He is my oldest friend in the world with benefits that make my pussy fill with slick at the thought of him between my thighs.
“Looking good, Lily,” he says after a while.
I wonder if he’s talking about the garden or me. But I don’t press, just savour the compliment and the easy company.
“Thanks, Jack. You’re not so bad yourself,” I murmur, risking a glance his way. His skin is flushed and has a soft smile that makes me want to do more than just plant flowers.
When the bell above the door jingles, I’m elbows deep in a sea of petals. I straighten up, brushing a stray lock behind my ear as I rise to meet a guy with a bowler hat as I step back into the shop.
“Morning!” I greet him, plastering on my brightest smile as I pull off my gloves. “I’m Lily Bloom, how can I be of service?”
“Good day,” he starts, tipping his hat like he’s just stepped out of a time machine. “I’m in dire need of your expertise.”
“Hit me,” I say, leaning against the counter, intrigued by this character who seems to have wandered out of a Sherlock Holmes novel.
“It’s my sister’s graduation,” he explains, “and she’s rather unconventional. I need something that screams ‘congratulations on your degree in cryptozoology.’”
“Ah,” I muse, tapping a finger on my chin. “Unconventional, you say? How about a bouquet that could double as a Bigfoot lure?”
He chuckles, adjusting his hat. “If you said you had that, I’d be all over it.”
“‘Fraid not, but let’s think outside the box. Or vase, for that matter.” I walk over to the rows of blooms, feeling the tickle of inspiration. “We’ll start with some snapdragons—because dragons, obviously.”
“Brilliant!” he exclaims, warming up to the theme.
“Then we’ll add some monkey orchids because they have little monkey faces.” I pick a few stems, their peculiar blossoms grinning up at us.
“Ha! She’ll love it!” His eyes light up, and it’s clear he’s enjoying our brainstorming session as much as I am.
“Let’s throw in some green trick dianthus for texture—it looks like moss or something you’d find in an enchanted forest,” I suggest, plucking a fluffy bunch from the cooler.
“Perfect! It’s like you’ve walked right into her imagination,” he says, now fully invested in my vision.
“Lastly, we need something unexpected... Ah!” I spy the delicate tendrils of a climbing vine. “Black-eyed Susan vine. Looks charming, but has a hint of mystery.” I twine it around the growing ensemble.
“Miss Bloom,” he declares with a dramatic flair that matches his attire, “you are a true artiste.”
“Please, call me Lily,” I reply, grinning as I secure the arrangement. “And you’ve got yourself a one-of-a-kind cryptozoology graduation bouquet.”
“Thank you, Lily. This is precisely why I came here,” he says, his bowler hat bobbing as he nods approvingly. “Your reputation is far and wide.”
My smile freezes, and I gulp back the sudden mouthful of saliva. “Oh?” I croak. “Where are you from then?”
“Carlisle,” he says.
“Oh, you’ve come quite the way today.”
“Like I said, your reputation for being a floral genius precedes you, Miss Bloom. The flower lady with a penchant for the peculiar.”
And we’re back to Miss Bloom?
My skittish nerves take a sudden leap to the forefront, but I keep smiling because that’s what I do. However, I may take a small sidestep to the left to surround myself with the pungent scent of roses to try to mask my scent as much as possible. Reason numero uno why I have this shop where I’m surrounded by flowers, essential oils, and scented candles night and day. “Well, thank you for the kind words. I’ll have this ready for you in just a few minutes.”
He wanders around the shop, sniffing this and sniffing that, pulling away from a Venus fly trap that nearly takes his nose off. Giggling and relaxing a bit, knowing I’m covered in floral scents galore, I finish up and ring up the cost on the till.
Bowler man pays, and with another beam, he tips his hat again and leaves me to calm my racing heart.
