Page 3 of Forget me Knot
Serves me right for thinking that cloud was white and fluffy, the fucking cloudy bastard.
The door opens again, and I look up quickly, but then smile.
“Hey, Lily, how’s business blooming?” Fred, the local baker, quips as he holds up a brown paper bag of freshly baked goodies.
“Hey, Fred. Blooming great, thanks,” I shoot back, giving him a mock salute. He lets out a loud guffaw and I feel at easeagain now that the familiar is around me. “What did you bring me?”
His grin widens as he places the bag on the counter. “Got your favourites—a couple of almond croissants and a fresh loaf of sourdough.”
“Oh, Fred, you spoil me,” I say, reaching into the bag and pulling out a croissant. The almond scent mingles with all the floral notes in the shop, creating an oddly comforting bouquet.
Before he can respond, another customer walks in—a regular named Mrs Thompson, who always buys chrysanthemums for her garden club meetings.
I wave to Fred as he creeps out in an over-the-top pantomime that makes us both laugh.
“Morning, Mrs Thompson!” I greet her brightly.
Mrs Thompson’s wrinkled face brightens up as she spots me at the counter. “Morning, Lily dear!”
“How’s your garden coming along?” I ask Mrs Thompson as she peruses the rows of chrysanthemums, her fingers trailing delicately over the petals.
“Oh, just splendid,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “These beauties you recommended last week are thriving. I swear they look happier each day.”
She selects a vibrant bunch of yellow chrysanthemums and places them on the counter. “Another meeting today?” I ask while wrapping the flowers in tissue paper.
“Indeed. The ladies were so impressed by these last time, they insisted I bring more.”
I smile, handing over the bouquet. “I’m glad to hear it!”
Mrs Thompson pays and waves to me and I lean against the counter to finish off my croissant, glad of the few minutes’ breather.
When I hear footsteps behind me, I turn to see Jack step in, and the sight of him is like a jolt of caffeine straight into myveins. He’s all sweaty from working in the garden, his t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places, showing off the muscles that hours of pruning and digging have carved.
“Hey, Lily,” he says with that half-smile that always sends a tingle down my spine. His voice is deep, the kind that makes you want to hear him whisper dirty somethings in your ear.
“Jack.” I try to sound casual, but it’s hard when every time he walks into the room, it feels like someone has turned up the thermostat. “How’s the herb garden coming along?”
“Thriving,” he replies, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His movement releases a wave of his scent into the air, and it’s all I can do not to swoon. That alpha scent of his is not just hot; it’s Sahara Desert at high noon hot.
“Good, good,” I manage, focusing on the flowers in front of me rather than the man who’s making my heart race. Jack moves closer, and the earthy tones of soil and rain wafts around me.
“Need any help?” he asks, eyeing the floral chaos on my workbench.
“Sure,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “Can you grab some of those peonies over there?”
He nods and strides over to the bucket of blooms, his movements confident and sure. I watch him for a moment, admiring his rippling muscles.
Suddenly, with the nerves from earlier and him being near me now, I find myself in a bit of a situation. Slick has made my knickers damp, and I press my thighs together. When he turns back to me and moves in closer, his nostrils flare.
“Now?” he asks with a sexy smile.
“I could do with a break,” I murmur.
“Me too.”
Waddling to the front door with my thighs still squeezed together to flip the sign and lock it, I return to him, and he grabsmy hand, leading me upstairs to my flat without another word. Oh, how I do love the strong, silent type.
Chapter 2
