Page 17 of Eye of the Hurricane
I pull into the parking lot of this flower shop; an unfortunate mix of gravel and sand. Still, I park the car and head for the flower stand.
The sign above the stand looks like sun-bleached driftwood painted with a baby blue that is almost fully faded. The sign reads “Dahlia’s Flowers & Seeds.”
When I walk through the open doorway, the whole storefront is no larger than a living room. The aroma of floras is overpowering, but pleasant. There’s a woman behind the cash register who looks to be no younger than seventy-five. She’s short and overall, tiny. I can’t quite place it but she just looks like she’s meant to be in a place like this.
“What’s the occasion?” she asks, making her way from behind the counter and over to the walls of flowers. Her voice is hoarse, but soft.
“A date, kind of.” I can’t help but chuckle at how silly that sounds. “It’s a long story.”
“If you’re unsure of the situation, can I suggest a mix?”
“Yeah, I’ll take all the help I can get. Never bought flowers for someone before,” I admit. A soft smile tugs at her mouth.
“Must be special if she’s the first girl you’ve bought flowers for, hm?”
“She’s a friend of mine. She’s never been on a date. It’s more like a practice date,” I explain. She just hums in response and gives me a half-hearted nod, like she doesn’t believe me one bit.
I give the woman the okay to pick the flowers for me. I follow her mindlessly as she picks a flower here and there from each type. By the time she takes them up to the cash register, it’s a full-on bouquet.
She lets me pick out what color wrapping to put them in, I pick yellow. She lets me pick a ribbon to tie around it, I pick the one patterned in sunflowers. The finished product is a bouquet of pinks, blues, purples, and oranges wrapped up in a sunny yellow paper with sunflower ribbon holding it all together.
“Thank you so much…” I pause to read the name on her tag. “Dahlia.”Of course.
“I hope you’ll come back and buy her more flowers.”
“Me, too.”
The drive to Katherine’s house leaves my pulse thumping through my entire body. I don’t quite know why. Maybe my heart didn’t get the memo that this date is fake.
I feel silly knocking on her door with grocery bags in one hand and a big bouquet in the other. I look like I’m either here to court her and ask her father for permission to take her out for a night on the town. Or like I’m her deadbeat of aboyfriend here to apologize for cheating on her for the thirtieth time.
All the thoughts about how this might look disintegrate the second she answers the door. She’s in a solid red, floor-length dress, with the thinnest straps I’ve ever seen. It wouldn’t be a Katherine Graeves outfit without the matching red heels and the silver jewelry with red accents.
“You brought flowers?” The usual attitude and playful indifference is absent from her voice. It’s soft and full of something sweeter.
“It’s your first date. You deserve flowers for your first date,” I tell her. A smile so subtle it’s almost invisible tilts at the edge of her cherry lips.
“You look stunning, if it isn’t obvious.” I hold the bouquet out to her and she takes it without hesitation. She steps out of the door frame, making room for me to come in.
She offers a hundred times to help me as I’m cooking in her kitchen and I start to get the vibe she’s got a real problem with letting someone else be in control. Every step of the way, she leans against the island and watches me intently.
I pay more attention to her than the food I’m cooking and I hope that when we sit down to eat, the flavor doesn’t show it. She’s distracting enough as is but in this red dress and smiling at me across this kitchen? I’m a goner.
As I wrap up the last couple of touches, she sets the table. She has a full kitchen table which is odd considering it’s just her and her cat living here. Maybe she has family that visits a lot. Although, given the stories I’ve heard of her mom, I wouldn’t guess it.
Even though her kitchen table is big enough to seat eight, she sets the table for us to sit on one end, directly across from each other.
“So, is this the Ares Dawkins special? You cook dinner and bring her flowers?” she asks, sitting across from me.
“I’ve never brought someone flowers. Actually, now that I think of it, I’ve never cooked dinner for a date either. Just Ravyn and Audra.”
“Why go all out for a fake date?” She doesn’t meet my eyes as she asks, looking at her plate and pushing her food around, instead.
“Someday, you’re going to have all of the things you’re reaching for and when you do, you’ll find the time for relationships. I want you to know what you deserve when that happens,” I tell her.
Blush spreads across her cheeks, kissing the bridge of freckles that stretch across her nose. A smile dares to tug at her lips but she quickly pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it.
She finally takes a bite of the chicken and alfredo. As soon as it touches her tongue she rolls her head back, moaning. The sound that leaves her mouth and the look of pure bliss on her face goes straight to my cock.
