“Uh, thanks.” She popped back up, bandage in hand. “You want it?”
“For what?” I ran the pad of my thumb across my bottom lip, feeling for the bruise that I was sure would be there in the morning. “This ain't anything to worry about. All in a day's fun.”
“Fun?” She shook her head. “Not sure what kinda fun you're used to, but I guess to each his own.”
“Well, what would you call fun?” I rested a hand on the counter, leaning a little closer to her before catching myself. I backed away, realizing how dangerously good she smelled. I'd been choked by the sweet-smelling roses and carnations when I'd walked in, but she...she was wildflowers and mountain honeysuckle. I craved more of her but didn't dare.
“At this stage,” she glanced around the shop, “I'd say a big customer with a recurring order would be delightful.”
“Business that bad, huh?”
“No.” She squared her shoulders, eyes hovering on mine. “It's just...rental spaces in downtown Cherry Falls aren't exactly cheap.”
“Well, the alternative is Syn City.”
“Oh, I couldn't live there. I like open spaces, all that concrete and steel makes me claustrophobic.”
I gulped. “You and me both.”
She pressed her lips together, straightening her back and taking a few small breaths before she seemed to catch herself and glanced down at her feet. “Guess opposites can agree on some things after all.”
“Opposites, huh?” I leaned in again, this time close enough to invade her space. Instead of leaning away from me like I expected though, she cocked her head to the side, and eyes twinkling, said: “Can I take your flower order, Sir?”
I swallowed the laugh and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I'll take one of every flower you've got in this place, once a week for the next year.”
“Excuse me?” Disbelief shook her otherwise soft features.
“You heard me.” I pushed the small order tablet into her hands. “One of everything.”
“B-but, where would I deliver that many flowers to?”
“My house.”
“Your house?”
I nodded in confirmation.
“But...usually an order that big would go to a restaurant or a place of business or—”
“My home is my place of business.”
“Oh.” Her lips twitched as she began to doodle on the lines of the order form.
“Go on, write down: one of everything.”
“I know how to do my job,” she spit, obviously rattled.
I chuckled out loud this time. “Little Miss Flower Patch. Precious as a petal when she's annoyed.”
“I'm not annoyed,” she uttered defensively. “I just don't need to be told what to write down—I'll remember just fine.”
“What about my address? You need to know where to deliver them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She swallowed, finally moving away from the counter, picking up a pair of shears and trailing her long, pink-painted fingertips down the stem of a thorned rose. “I'll have to check my schedule.”
“You just said you wouldn't forget—”
“Right, well, if you're serious about your order, then that makes you my biggest customer.”
