“Wait, you’re the florist, too?” Tom hated how surprised he sounded.
“What?” Cypress smiled, clearly amused. “I don’t look like a florist?”
“Uh, no. I mean…” Tom didn’t have a single decent thing to say.
You look like you should be naked all the time and oh, my God. This is getting bad. Brain, shut up. Just shut up.
“It’s okay,” Cypress said, quickly smoothing over the bump with a bright smile. “I don’t think you look like an embalmer, you know.”
“I don’t?”
“No,” Cypress confirmed. He leaned in, slowly, and there was a little flash of mischief in his dark eyes.
Tom couldn’t explain it, but the energy between them had instantly shifted from a casual chat to something else. His heartbeat was starting to pick up, and there was an unmistakable hunger in Cypress’s expression. Tom couldn’t believe it was for him, and the open air of the garage suddenly felt too hot.
Tom gulped, prompting, “Well, what do I look like?”
Cypress’s lips parted to answer, teasing, “You look like—”
A phone rang, interrupting.
Tom couldn’t possibly quell his disappointment, offering a patient smile in reply to Cypress’s apologetic grimace as he answered the phone.
“Doyle’s Flowers,” Cypress greeted cordially, his handsome face wrinkling up in obvious irritation.
Tom knew then their little chat was over, politely taking a few steps back so Cypress could finish his phone call in peace.
“No,” Cypress said, his tone stern, “he cannot have any of my damn cake. His sugar has been way too high.”
Tom wondered who HFG was talking about—maybe he had a kid? A dog? Either way, this seemed like a private conversation. He waved and turned to the door, making to leave. He’d finally learned HFG’s name, and he considered this to be a win.
He was startled when Cypress reached out to grab his shoulder, flinching at the strength behind his grip. He let himself get pulled right back in, staring up at him expectantly.
“Stay,” Cypress commanded under his breath, certainly keeping his voice down so whoever was on the line wouldn’t hear him.
Tom was surprised at how easy it was to obey. There was a stubborn part of himself that wanted to argue—who did HFG think he was, bossing him around like that? Tom wasn’t a pet.
They barely knew each other.
And yet…
Tom really didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Good boy,” Cypress whispered, glancing away as he redirected his attention back to his phone. “I will come over there right now if he doesn’t quit.” His hand was still lingering on Tom’s shoulder. “Okay, good.”
Heart now drumming in his ears, Tom melted beneath Cypress’s touch. His hand was warm, firm, and his nails were so neat and well-trimmed. It was a strange thing to focus on, but he had to do manicures to help get deceased people ready for viewings, and he noticed little things like that.
It was also impossible to escape how good Cypress smelled being this close to him; it was something warm, almost fruity, maybe his lotion or his cologne. It was a new scent, and Tom was dying to know what it was.
Oh, and getting hot and bothered because Cypress had called him a ‘good boy’? That was new, too.
“Yeah, I’ll be by later. If there is any cake missing, tell him I’m gonna know it was him. Thank you. Love you. Bye.” Cypress finally hung up and sighed.
“Everything okay?” Tom asked as casually as he could.
“Stubborn relatives with diabetes and unattended cake is a disaster waiting to happen.” Cypress smiled, but it was strained. “Sorry about all that, but I gotta go.”
“Oh, right.” Tom nodded, missing Cypress’s hand the second he let go. “Of course. You’re still working, and I need to get back, too.”
