“You don’t have—”
“Yes.” He pushed Armi firmly out of the way. “I do. Now get out of here and let me do my thing.”
Shooting him a guilty look, Armi left him on his knees, picking up lettuce and tomato from the floor. It took several trips to the kitchen along with some cleaning spray to wash away the smell of food and beer, but he finally finished and returned all the food to the kitchen, dumped the bottles in the recycling, and rebagged the chips. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the space.
“Hayden? Are you still here?” Footsteps pounded on the stairs.
“In the living room,” he called out and turned. “Wow. You look…really good.”
Pink bloomed on Armi’s cheeks, and his blue eyes sparkled. A crisp, white button-down with a black stripe was tucked into dark jeans. “Thanks. My razor broke, so I didn’t shave.” He rubbed the stubble covering his jaw. “Does it look bad?”
Bad? Does Armi truly have no idea how hot he is?
“No. The opposite. Do you have a bottle of wine or something to bring with you? If not, you still have time. I can run to the liquor store for you.”
“No, his wife, Marianne, loves my roses, so I promised to bring her some.”
“Perfect. Could you show me which ones?” Hayden had no idea why he asked, but it was worth it to see Armi’s face brighten.
“I’d love to. I have some beautiful hybrid teas that just bloomed or are about to. Follow me.”
Immediately, when Armi started to speak about his roses, his whole demeanor changed. His shoulders straightened, and his voice rang with strength. If he could be like that all the time, there’d be no problem at the office.
They passed through the kitchen to the greenhouse, and Armi picked up a pair of shears before continuing on to a colorful grouping of rosebushes.
“They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen colors like this.”
“They smell as delicious as they look. Go ahead.”
Hayden leaned forward to the first bush—a lemony yellow with a tinge of red around the edges, which were like velvet under his fingers. “Ohhh, that’s a beautiful perfume.”
“Now this one next.” Armi pointed to the coral blooms with streaks of yellow and white. “What do you think of these?”
“Even sweeter. And the colors…I didn’t know you could have so many different ones in the same rose.”
“It’s what I’m trying to accomplish. I love working with them.” He frowned. “My father used to call it ‘grubbing in the dirt.’”
As the light faded from Armi’s face, Hayden again cursed the man for crushing Armi’s spirit. “Well, I think it’s an awesome hobby. My mother always corrals my father into helping her with her garden, and he pretends not to like it, but I used to see him on his own, going through the garden to make sure none of the leaves on the bushes had those black spots. He didn’t want her to do it herself and get pricked by the thorns.”
“That’s very sweet. They must love each other very much.”
“They do. They’ve been married almost forty years.”
The droop of Armi’s soft mouth tempted, and Hayden wished he could kiss all his problems away. And though his dick perked up at the idea, Hayden dismissed the thought from his mind. He’d quickly learned that as quiet and unassuming as Armi was, one touch from him and Hayden was gone. They’d end up naked.
Idiot. That’s not the visual you need right now.
He blew out a long, frustrated breath.
Armi pulled on a pair of heavy gardening gloves and picked up the shears. “That’s an anomaly in my world. Almost no one stays married. My parents divorced when I was a kid, as did Trevor’s.” He snipped and picked off the thorns, and even with his hands covered by the thick canvas, Hayden could see the tender care he took with the stems. “Do you mind holding these while I cut more?”
“Of course not.” He took the two long stems and smelled the fragrance of their blooms. He watched Armi collect more flowers until he held a dozen roses of different colors. Armi stripped off the gloves and wiped his face with a paper towel.
“Come on. I have to wrap them.”
In the kitchen with his flowers, Armi showed none of the hesitancy in his everyday life at the office, moving with purpose and care as he wrapped up the long green stems and fragile petals. There was no fumbling, and Hayden pictured that firm hand around his cock.
Christ, get a damn grip.
