“Micah Bloom,” Ms. Dorian said, her eyes pinging back and forth between us avidly. Whatever my mother thought, no one in O’Leary was unaware of our rivalry, and I imagined The Dragon wanted to stir up trouble. “What are you offering at your booth today?”
“My sister Leandra and I are giving out a Gerbera daisy to everyone who stops by,” he said, and I froze, remembering our stupid conversation in the van about those daisies and my suggestion about what could be done on them.
Great work, Constantine.Even flowers made me think of sex now, which was really fucking dangerous, given my job.
“Daisies,” Ms. Dorian said, surprise and approval in her voice. “Excellent, summery choice. Or were you perhaps harkening back to Fachanan O’Leary, the founder of the town, and his wife Margaret, commonly known as Daisy?”
Micah blinked, then blinked again. “I… I have to admit that’s just a happy coincidence,” he said. “But I’ve recently developed a special appreciation for Gerbera daisies.”
And then he shot me a look that lasted no more than an instant but told me he remembered the same conversation.
Goddamn.Did he deliberately try to make me crazy?
“Do you have any flowers, Constantine?” Ms. Dorian asked.
“No,” I said. “No, we’re, uh… harkening back… to the… agricultural heritage… of the town with a seed planting demonstration,” I said smoothly. I sketched an oval in the air. “Tiny seeds. So full of…promise.”
Micah’s eyes narrowed.
“You Rosses always add a nice variety to the festival,” The Dragon said. “Don’t you think, Mr. Bloom?”
Micah turned around to move forward in line, but spoke over his shoulder. “Oh, yes. Constantine is all about variety. Something new every week.” He shot me a glance. “Isn’t that right?”
I narrowed my eyes. Was he talking about…?
He winked and my eyes opened in shock.
For weeks—fuckingweeks—the man hadn’t so much as alluded to sex around me. He’d shot down every silly innuendo, and returned to being professional and kind, and it hadkilledme. I’d really thought something had changed out there at the marsh, but apparently, I’d misread him. Again. We’d worked together mostly in silence because I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that wasn’t me blurting out, “Oh, Jesus, you’re hot,” and begging him to fuck me.
But now suddenly he’d decided to be all flirtatious and innuendo-y right here? In front of The Dragon? And he saidIwas provoking? Dude, I was provoking like a cute and tiny puppy.Hewas provoking like a ballistic missile launch.
He gave me a bland look and added, “I know you pride yourself on always having…fresh stock.”
I summoned my brightest smile. “Nothing wrong with trying new things, Mr. Bloom. Better than letting your stock getoldandstale, right?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Dorian said importantly. “People expect freshness.”
It looked like Micah was biting the inside of his cheek, and when his eyes met mine over The Dragon’s head, it felt like we’d formed a bridge of understanding across the churning waters of insanity that was life in O’Leary.
God, I hated him sometimes.
“Mr. Ross always delivers freshness,” Micah agreed solemnly. “Sometimes I look across the aisle at the Ross booth and think, ‘So. Fresh.’”
Unbelievable.But Ms. Dorian smiled like she still thought we were talking about flowers.
“Right back atcha,” I said. “Really.Insanely. Fresh.”
Micah turned around to order his burger and Ms. Dorian patted me on the shoulder. “So good to see you becoming friends and putting aside your rivalry for the good of the community,” she said.
“Oh, Mr. Bloom and I aren’t rivals,” I said brightly. “I like to think weinspireeach other.”
Ms. Dorian frowned and turned around just in time to order her own burger. I ordered Theo’s, dumped half a pound of ketchup on the thing, and started walking back to the booth along the path on the far side of the festival, near the vendor parking lot where we’d left Theo’s car earlier in the day.
It was hot as hell. The sun was nearly overhead now, and beneath the smell of fried food, I could smell the grass practically cooking beneath my feet. In the distance, sunlight glared off the cars in the parking lot, and a part of me wanted to just get in Theo’s car and drive away—from the festival, from the town, from my past, frommyself.
I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been when Micah caught up and casually strolled alongside me, close enough that I’d be sure to notice him and far enough away that no one would think we were walkingtogether.
“Walking fast, Con,” he said around a mouthful of burger. “Trying to escape?”
