Page 41 of Knot in Bloom
The phone rings again. Then again.
“I have to—” I start.
“No, you don’t.”
“It could be an emergency.”
He withdraws his hand with reluctance, and I immediately miss the fullness, the delicious pressure that had me right on the edge.
“This had better be life or death,” I mutter, reaching for the cordless.
“Sadie? Thank goodness!” Tessa’s voice cuts through the haze of arousal. “I know it’s late, but I just heard from Mountain Living magazine. They want to do a pre-festival photo shoot this weekend for some preliminary shots. Saturday morning.He needs three centerpiece samples and one larger installation piece for the photos.”
My stomach drops. “This Saturday? As in two days from now?”
“I know it’s short notice, but they’re flying the photographer in from Denver and this is the only time that works with his schedule before the actual festival.”
I stare at Caleb, who’s already reaching for his shirt with understanding. We have festival materials scattered everywhere, but nothing actually finished and photo-ready.
“Sadie? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Tell them yes. We’ll have everything ready.”
“Are you sure? Because if you need more time?—”
“No.” The word comes out stronger than I feel. “We’ll make it work.”
When I hang up, the weight of what I just committed to settles over me. A professional photo shoot means everything has to be perfect.
After I hang up, Caleb and I stare at each other across my disheveled shop. My bra is somewhere on the floor. His hair is thoroughly mussed from my fingers. We both look thoroughly debauched.
“Well,” he says finally. “That’s one way to kill the mood.”
I start laughing. I can’t help it. The absurdity of it all—nearly coming apart in his hands surrounded by festival planning materials, only to be interrupted by news that we need magazine-perfect arrangements in two days.
“This is not how I imagined this evening going,” I say, reaching for my sweater.
“Which part? The part where I almost made you come on your shop floor, or the part where we found out we need to create photo-ready masterpieces by Saturday?”
Arousal blazes through me at his casual reference to what almost happened. “Both.”
He stands, extends his hand to help me up. When I take it, he pulls me close enough to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
“We’ll figure out the photo shoot,” he says against my hair. “And we’ll finish what we started here.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” His arms tighten around me. “But right now, we need to figure out what makes the perfect magazine centerpiece.”
I press my face against his chest, breathing in his scent, trying to center myself in the middle of chaos.
Two days to create festival arrangements plus a 50th birthday celebration. And somewhere in between all of that, I get to explore whatever’s building between me and three wonderful men who actually want to take care of me.
Maybe I don’t have to have it all figured out. Maybe I just need to trust that good things can happen, even to stubborn florists who are finally learning to let people help.
Chapter 12
Reid
