She reluctantly settles against my side, stroking her hand along Atticus’s soft fur. “You’re really dramatic sometimes, you know that?”
“But it got you to cuddle with me, didn’t it?”
She swats playfully at my chest. “Just this once.”
Her hand stays there, tracing absent circles through my shirt. I’m caught up in indecision. I need to find a way to keep Callie with me. I’ve tried for years to stop the nightmares, and nothing has worked until now. She’s become essential to me, and she doesn’t even know it. I need her, as sure as the Earth needs the sun.
Chapter 17
Virginity on a Silver Platter
?Man I Need - Olivia Dean
Callie
The scentof fresh flowers and greenery instantly surrounds me as I step inside Wild Oak Flower Co. The quaint shop is brightly lit, with picture windows that open out onto a view of Main Street.
“Welcome.” An older woman with a short grey bob and a pair of ratty overalls greets me from behind a long counter as she cuts into a stem. “Can I help you find anything?”
I scan the colorful displays of pre-made bouquets before my eyes travel to the big buckets of stems sorted by color. There’s a large wall of seed packets and a card-making station opposite a row of ribbons and other adornments.
“I'm hoping you have black-and-white anemones. Is it weird to buy flowers for a guy? I'm kind of new at this.”
“Flowers are for everyone, dear. They carry their own secret language.” She trails over to the wall of stems and plucksout the one I’m looking for. “Do you want to know the meaning behind these?”
She doesn’t wait for my answer as she pulls more stems from the bucket.
“They mean different things to different cultures, of course, but anemones are often used to symbolize anticipation and change. This white variety in particular is sometimes used to convey innocence and purity.”
Great—so I’m literally handing him my virginity wrapped up in a pretty floral package. I shudder. Maybe this was a bad idea.
As if sensing my indecision, she says, “Why don’t you tell me about your budget and what you want this to say, and we’ll go from there.”
“I don’t really have a budget in mind, maybe one hundred dollars? It was kind of a joke, but it evolved into a ‘thank you for taking care of me’ gift, I guess. He said those were his favorite.”
“We can add some sweet peas and roses to convey your gratitude while still using the anemones to round out the bouquet.” She flits about the room, gathering a variety of stems and fillers. My bank account is screaming at me, but at least I don’t have to worry about rent or gas this month.
By the time she’s done, I’m holding the most gorgeous bouquet I’ve ever seen, wrapped in brown paper with a delicate lace ribbon and twine holding it all together. The anemones stand out against a vibrant mix of flowers I couldn’t begin to name.
As I’m turning to leave the shop, I notice a for sale sign in the window. “You’re closing?”
“Retiring. Moving to Florida to be closer to my grandkids. Are you interested?”
“I have a black thumb, I’m afraid.”
She laughs. “I hope your special someone likes his flowers.”
“Thank you. I’m sure he will.”
I meet Olivia back at Rosie’s diner as planned and sit at the island as she restocks her grandma’s dessert case.
She glances at the bouquet and beams. “Those are gorgeous.”
“Right? I almost want to keep them for myself.”
“Technically, theyaregoing home with you. So at least you’ll get to see them every day.”
It’s not really my home, but I don’t have it in me to argue semantics. I bring the bouquet to my nose and inhale.
