Page 26 of Hoax and Kisses
I’ve really misjudged him, haven’t I? This man keeps shedding layers, and the more he does, the more I want to stick around to discover what’s hiding beneath the next one.
“I did come in to get flowers, but I didn’t know you were that busy. You don’t have to bend your rules for me.”
He gestures toward another table where a variety of fresh flowers are already set out. “I’d love to create something for you. What do you need right now?”
I blink. “Need?”
His lips curve into a ghost of a smile. “Flowers have meanings. They’re not just pretty things to look at. Some are for love, others for healing. Depends on what you’re after.”
I’ve never viewed flowers that way. I rarely paid much attention to how they made me feel or what they meant, except for the fact that I’ve always associated them with my mother.
So I suppose they bring me peace.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” I finally say. “What do you think I need?”
He arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m scared this is gonna backfire on me, Zoey.”
Shivers spread across my skin, prickling down my spine. The way he says my name, like he’s taking his time to taste it on his tongue, makes my knees wobble.
I’m weak. I’m so weak.
“Promise it won’t.”
“Okay, then.” He moves around the space with ease, plucking stems from vases. He pauses for a moment, his gaze flicking between two sorts of flowers like he’s deciding which ones would suit me the best. Finally, he grabs a handful of pink and white lilies, then some lavender. The rest I don’t recognize.
When his selection is made, he lays the flowers in the middle of the table and arranges them. Watching him work is mesmerizing. His fingers shift with grace and care, as if this is second nature for him and he could do it in his sleep.
Wow. Not gonna lie. This is doing it for me.
“I see you found your way to more comfortable clothes,” he says, focused on his task.
I frown. “My clothes are comfortable.”
That makes him pause. He looks at me like he’s calling bullshit.
“Okay, yes,” I sigh. “This is definitely a better option for here.”
That pulls a chuckle from him. Then he’s back to work. “It looks good on you.” He keeps his attention riveted on the stems, as if I shouldn’t take his words as a compliment.
Even so, my pulse kicks up a notch.
He wraps twine around the bundle of flowers, then holds it out to me. “Voilà.”
I take it and turn it from side to side, admiring his work. The foliage woven together with flowers in shades of pink reminds me of summer mornings. “It’s beautiful, Matt. Thank you.”
His gaze on me is a physical caress. I keep mine on the bouquet, giving him time to take whatever he needs from me.
“What kind of vibe did you go for, then?” I ask eventually.
“Why don’t you tell me?” He nods to the bouquet. “How do you feel?”
I bury my nose in the flowers and inhale the multitude of scents until my muscles loosen and the knot in my throat—one I didn’t realize even existed—dissolves.
“Relaxed.”
Finally, I look up, finding Matt watching me. An emotion flits over his face, but I’m not fast enough to decipher it before it’s gone.
“Lavender and freesias for calm when your days get too intense; lilies for confidence, when you need that extra boost; and alstroemeria for support when you feel alone,” he says, his voice soft.
