The bell dings and I stand up straight. A man in a cowboy hat comes in and goes straight for the coolers.
The greeting gets stuck in my throat because I’m too busy ogling him. He’s average height, ear-length dirty blonde hair poking out of his off-white straw cowboy hat. His beard is more like a five o’clock shadow, complementing his mustache, and that jaw looks like it could cut glass. He looks through the coolers, and my heart lifts as he reaches for the mason jar arrangement.
The cowboy inspects the flowers, then turns around, making his way to the counter, still inspecting the arrangement. When he looks up from the blooms, his eyes widen.
I almost take a step back asEverywhereby my favorite band, FleetwoodMac, plays.
Ignoring the extremely awkward look he’s giving me, I clear my throat. “Is this it for you?”
“Uh, yeah — yes, ma’am, thank you.”
I huff. “You don’t have to call me, ma’am.”
“Where’s Francesca?” he asks, glancing at my hands.
I enter the amount into the register. “Thirty one twenty, please, and my aunt is retiring. I’m uh — I’m running Paxton Flower Shop now.”
He hands me two twenties, and I push the button for the cash drawer. “Is she now?” he asks, still staring at me.
I look down to count his change, and when I go to hand it back to him, he’s already staring at me with a look that shouldn’t make my chest heat and my knees shake. But it does.
“Eight eighty is your change,” I rasp.
He holds his hand out and stuffs it in his pocket. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I squeak.
The corner of his mouth tips up, and I think he’s about to take his flowers and leave, but then he leans on the counter. “Were you at the Wooden Cowboy the other night?” he asks.
“I was … why?” I ask him.
Logically, I should be freaked out, but this is a small town, and there’s two bars.
“Oh, I think I saw you there,” he says, rubbing his chin.
The song ended, and it’s quiet. All I hear is his fingers rasp against his mustache connected to his scruff for the split second before another song pops on.
His green eyes pierce mine.
“Oh,” I puff, a little taken aback.This beautiful man noticed me.
This time Eric Carmen’sHungry Eyes.If I didn’t think God had a sense of humor. I do now.
“Maybe I should have introduced myself.”
I slip my tongue over my teeth to keep from smiling. “Maybe you should have.”Should I be flirting? I thought I was taking a break from all of this. But Mae,lookat him, and he’s flirting with you!
He shrugs. “That’s alright, there’s always next time.”
I snort. “How do you come to that conclusion? We already know each other now,” I ask him.
He stands up straight and grabs his flowers. “Well, I think there’s something to be said for first, second, andthirdimpressions.”
My hands tingle, and I smile at him. “Third time’s the charm, right?” I ask him.
He grins. “That it is. I have to get going, but I’ll see you around …”
“Uh, Mae.”
