Page 4 of You've Got The Love
I look up as I hear Bas’ truck pull in alongside the shop, and the butterflies in permanent residence in my stomach take flight, and the crackles under my skin get stronger. I tie off my bouquet and place it in its vase, so it gets a drink while I’m busy picking out the flowers we need for the next few days, and give my work bench a wipe down as I quickly check myself in the mirror.
“Oi oi,” Jess teases and grins at me.
“Sshhhh!” I stare at her with big eyes, biting my lips to hide my excited smile.
“Hallo, ladies,” I hear in his usual Dutch accent that I adore, making my eyes close as I relish the sound. Bastiaan Van der Meer is hands down the sexiest man ever to walk the face of the earth.
“Hallo,” I reply, grinning as I copy him. He’s taught me a few Dutch words, and‘hallo’is the easiest as it’s practically the same as the English ‘hello’, obviously.
“What’s new at‘Wild Ones’?” He asks, smiling his beautiful smile as he looks at the fresh flowers we’ve currently got on display in the shop.
“Not too much, Bas, busy as usual. How was the drive?”
“It was fine, unlike these stems you’ve got here. Who have you been buying from? Don’t say Ben,” he holds his hand over his heart, like I’ve wounded him. He’s so funny, I almost swoon. He turns me to mush like a teenage girl.
“I had to; we had nothing left. I’m sorry I had to buy from your mortal enemy,” I joke back. I’m sure he gets better looking each time I see him, and the smile he gives me honestly makes me weak at the knees, so I have to lean on the worktop to make sure I don’t fall into a heap in front of him. I would die.
“Tea?” He offers as he moves in close, gently moving me by placing his hands on my hips. I swear I stop breathing as I nod silently up at him. He’s so tall and broad, he makes me feel small, which is something that rarely happens with a man, as I’m tall for a woman at 5’8”, and I love it. It feels like time slows as he crowds me to get by.
“Thanks, B-man, don’t mind if I do. I need two sugars this time. I’ve just been hit with an epically gross dick-pic,” Jess tells him seriously, shaking her head as she finishes pouring water carefully into her‘aqua-pack’arrangement—a hand-tied bouquet that stands freely in a bubble of water—making us burst into laughter.
“Wow. Men really do that, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve seen more dick in pics than in real life at this point, and sorry to say, they aren’t the best things to look at. They wouldn’t win any beauty contests, that’s for sure; no offense, I’m sure mini-B is up to par,” she replies, giving him a wink.
Bas and I continue to laugh at her as she pulls a face, and I watch him flick the kettle on and prepare our mugs. I love that he feels so at home here, that he can just help himself to a cuppa.
I grab the cake box from earlier, open the lid and slide it next to the mugs on the side so Bas can see. I watch his profile as he smiles, his dimple shows up, which makes me smile in return.
“You spoil me, Amber. Thank you,” he gently glides his hand around my waist and gives me a sideways squeeze.Fuuuuuuuck. I know I’m flushing; I can feel my ears are red hot. Sometimes I hate being so pale; my skin shows all my emotions.
“Oh, it’s nothing, just a little treat for being on the road for so long, and I know you love a Chelsea bun.” I give him a small smile as I plate up his treat.
“So, was the dick-pic from a new date, or someone she already knows?” Bas enquires about Jess’s x-rated picture message.
“Oh gosh, now I really don’t want to eat my donut,” I laugh. “A new date, she went out with him once, made it plain she wasn’t interested, but he thought sending a pic of his‘dong’as she calls it, would sway her into going for another date. But that wouldn’t sway you into anything apart from never turning on your phone again and possibly burning it!” I give him big, serious eyes as my lips flatten.
“That bad?”
“Oh yeah, plus the pose he was in has scarred my retinas for life,” I say dramatically.
“Boss, the florist in London who placed the funeral arrangement order with us just got back to me and said the man was adamant that it was for the same address as the actual florist, and the arrangement didn’t require a message card. The mobile number he left doesn’t work. What the fuck?” Jess asks as she looks over the order form again, like it will give her some answers.
I just stare at the funeral wreath of blood red roses, not understanding why someone would send this to me. I mean, it must be a mistake. It can’t be for me. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and a feeling in my tummy that I really don’t like. I hope this has nothing to do with Dad. I’ve got to call him.Urgh.
“What’s going on, Amber? Why has someone sent you a funeral arrangement?” Bas demands, looking taller and broader somehow.
“I’m going to pop upstairs and call my dad. Sorry, Bas, give me a minute,” I say, distracted as I grab the deliverynote and start to walk past him. He grabs my hand to stop me, making me spin round and look at his big hand engulfing my much smaller one. His hands are rough, like a real man's hands; you can tell he works with them. My eyes trace up his arm to meet his gorgeous blue eyes. His eyes usually hide a lot of his emotions, but right now they are raging blue seas.
“Why are you calling your dad?” He questions with a frown; his body is stock still.
“Erm, he… knows a lot of… bad people,” I try to explain without explaining. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” I let go of his hand and immediately feel a sense of loss, before I run up the stairs and unlock my front door.
I run to the bag of burner phones that Dad insists I call him on every week, which I keep in my bedroom wardrobe. I find it ridiculous as I’m out in the public eye, I don’t hide away how he’d like me to, and I have my name given to me at birth, so I wouldn’t be hard to find. I rip open the bag, dump the phones on my bed, and then grab one, powering it up straight away. Impatiently, I pace next to my bed as I wait the few seconds it takes to turn on and then dial Dad’s number. I’ve had to memorise every single mobile number Dad has ever had since I was a little girl. It’s a habit I've developed with my close circle of friends, though they're not aware of it.
I just know this is something to do with the club, it’s the only thing it could be. I love my dad, but I know who he is. I know what he does and the kind of people he associateswith. That life would never be for me. I sit next to the pile of phones and listen to the dial tone as I look out of my window, willing him to answer. I hang up and instantly ring again. I feel a cold sweat covering my body, and I can feel my heartbeat starting to pick up its pace.
“Yeah?” I hear Dad's voice, gruff and low. He sounds pissed off, but that’s kind of his way.
