I wasn’t even a third of the way down the ridge when I’d decided exactly what flowers would be in Maverick Wright’s next arrangement. Every dead flower out of the garbage can. I gunned my engine around another curve, my blood boiling as I realized my dad had been right all of these years.
Some people were just lowdown, good-for-nothing, moral cretins. And Maverick Wright was at the top of that list, but I wasn’t too proud to take his money. I didn’t know and didn’t give a shit what he wanted all the damn flowers for, but I would continue to take his cash with a smile on my face, and clutching my steering wheel the entire way home.
I punched the radio in search of a station, only to find the service in this godforsaken no man’s land had let me down. I froze when a soft mist landed on my windshield as the road opened up to the bare cliff’s edge. I slowed, careful to take the turns extra slowly as I came around one of the tightest corners before it opened into the famous sunflower field. I tapped my fingers on the wheel, thinking a man must really love sunflowers if he was willing to plant a field that big every year.
By the time I was down the ridge and pulling into the parking lot of The Flower Patch, the mist had turned to a constant drizzle. I slipped into the shop and began pulling all of the sunflowers I had available. I paused as I looked in the garbage can, more tempted than I cared to admit to fish a few of the faded roses out, but instead, I found an elegant black vase—the most masculine thing I could find—and began filling it to the brim with shades of sunflower.
I tucked small red ones into the bright yellow, highlighted it with shades of sunset orange and deep blood-red. The bouquet was beautiful by all standards, too pretty for him, that was the truth, but the arrangement was so tall it practically dominated the small flower shop counter. No way could he complain about the size this time around.
Eyes on the fading light outside, I retraced my tracks, tucking the sunflowers into the car and starting my engine to point myself back up the ridge and Maverick Wright. I didn’t know if I had it in me to face the dominating force of a man again, but I wanted to keep the lights on another month, so brave the beast I would.
My tiny car climbed up Lovers Ridge again, my bald tires spinning once on a curve because the mist and rain had left the edges of the road eroding. I groaned, thinking how stupid it’d been to drive up here just to deliver him the biggest, ugliest bouquet I could muster, when really I was only putting my own life in danger.
I passed the sunflower field, glad I’d at least picked out mostly dark and dreadful for a dark and dreadful man. The big fat heads hung heavy on the stalks, and turned away from the setting sun now, they just looked more pathetic than inspiring photo opportunities. I shook my head, thinking some people were just better left alone.
As I turned the final corner and turned the steep hill up to his driveway, heavy evergreens loomed. They dominated the driveway and my vision just like the man that lived beyond them. I said a silent prayer that the gravel of the road wouldn’t wash out while I was up delivering this dumb order. It would be just my luck that I’d get stranded on the top of a mountain with a caveman. I didn’t have time for it, which is why getting in and getting out was my only priority.
I pulled to a slow stop in the same spot I’d parked before, cautiously coming around the edge of my car as my eyes scanned the workshop I’d found him in earlier, and what looked to be a hand-hewn log cabin beyond. It was ironic, really, he had the most beautiful view in Cherry Falls, but he carried storm clouds around with him all day.
Just as I unbuckled the sunflowers from the passenger seat and turned with the armful in my hands, I saw a small window upstairs light up, filling with steam a moment later. “Shit.”
If I had to guess, that tiny window looked like a bathroom, and the big man inside of it had probably just stepped into the shower. I took in the pristine silence, inhaled the pine-scented air and let the mist off the bay roll over my cheeks. This place was serene, probably not bad at all outside of the company.
“Here goes nothing.” I took the steps quietly, approaching the cabin door, ready to knock and run, leaving the flowers on the doorstep, when the sound of music washed over me. An older song I’d heard my dad listen to a thousand times, one he always stopped on when it came on the radio. The sappy chorus, sweet and slow and crooning about being the inspiration for everything felt ironic.
I tapped on the door softly, surprised when it opened easily. My eyebrows shot up, my feet walking ahead of me as I crossed the threshold and came into the homey, almost warm household. “Hello?”
My eyes tracked around the space, registering the curling stairway that led to a loft. Jon Secada crooned on about love and being together; I was enamored with Maverick Wright’s life in front of me. I took another few steps into the kitchen and set the vase of flowers on the nearby table. Something smelled delicious, bubbling softly from the stove, and pictures decorated the walls. A flagstone fireplace dominated one wall in the living room, but a wall of photos flanking the other side drew me closer. A baby, sleeping sweetly in her dad’s arms, tiny little pink cap on her head that announced the name:Aspen.
My eyes continued to trail through the years, pictures of Maverick and his daughter as she grew on vacation, fishing in canoes, and running through the rows of sunflowers. One picture dominated the mantle, two smiling faces shining out, if I squinted just right I could almost make out the cocky twinkle in the man’s eyes that matched the one I’d seen in Maverick’s earlier that night in his garage.
My fingertips walked across the soft wooden mantle, hovering at the seashell picture frame that contained the happy couple. A sigh of guilt that I’d run this man ragged in my head earlier washed over me. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Can’t for the life of me figure why you helped yourself to my home in the first place.”
My heart stopped at the cold words.
I clamped my lips together, cold terror running down my spine as I spun, eyes on the floor. “Since when did the devil listen to Jon Secada?”
“The devil?” He laughed. “You don't know half of it, little girl.”
“Don’t I, though?” My eyes hardened.
“You don’t know shit,” he hissed, eyes finally seeking out the sunflowers that dominated his small kitchen table. “Why did you bring those?”
“Bring what? The flowers?” I shook my head. “I thought you’d like them, ya know, the field and all.”
“Don’t ever bring me sunflowers.” He yanked the vase off the table and swung the door wide, throwing them full force out on the porch. They crashed on the top step, water splashing and blooms spraying across the steps.
“You’re an asshole, Maverick Wright. And don't everlittle girlme again.”
His eyes nailed mine, one eyebrow rising in challenge before he clutched at the door frame and seethed, “It’s dark, you shouldn’t be up here. It’s more dangerous than your immature mind can fathom.”
I gnashed down on my teeth until it hurt, stomping down the steps and kicking the stupid man-vase as I went, the sunflower petals strewn across his steps and front yard like there'd been a wedding.
“Maverick fucking Wright. What a nightmare.”
“Can’t wait to see what kind of shit you bring me tomorrow!”
