The thought still brings a smile to my face.
After my last student is picked up, I head back to my classroom to double-check my lesson plans for tomorrow, a nonsensical action, really. My brain is entirely occupied by imagining the possibilities of the evening. Will we talk about books? Flowers? The startling ease with which we'd connected just two days ago?
Grayson reappears at my doorway as usual to wish me a good evening, a knowing glint in his eyes.
"Still basking in the post-rose glow, I see. Don't forget to leave a trail of petals, darling. For dramatic effect." He winks and disappears around the door jam dramatically. My chuckling follows him out into the hallway.
The idea of leaving a trail of petals is absurd. I mean, really, it's only a first date. But the image of a single flower, a quiet, bold declaration of my current mood, is far more fitting. My usual methodical packing devolves into a hurried shoving of papers into my backpack.
Stepping out into the brisk afternoon air, the scent of wet earth surrounds me, a welcome change from the classroom. The thought of Ben, his hands stained with earth and petals, waiting for me, feels like a promise.
Valentine's Day, coming up, might be just another day for most, a commercialized cliché. Still, for me, this Valentine's Day is shaping up to be anything but. It's a day that has potentially bloomed unexpectedly, much like the roses Ben was holding earlier.
My usual route to Peonies and Petals is familiar. I barely register the drive as my thoughts are consumed by tonight. Every corner I take holds a new possibility.
I replay Saturday, his smile, the way his eyes lingered on mine when I'd admired the vibrant wildflower arrangement he made. It wasn't about the flowers at all, but about the emotion that particular arrangement evoked not only in him, but all of us.
The wordless story that arrangement told.
As I pull up to Peonies and Petals, the warm glow spilling from the shop windows is an inviting beacon. When I see Ben through the glass entering the showroom from the back, my breath hitches. He's carrying a new arrangement. It’s elegant. Barrett takes it from him, and he's beaming from something Barrett is saying to him.
Whatever nerves I still had fluttering around in my stomach have officially left.
I turn off the ignition and exit the car, making my way to the front door, not wanting to delay seeing him in person for another second.
Chapter Eight
__________
Ben
"Alright, boys," Barrett calls to get our attention. Caleb and I have been talking and giggling about the silliest things while he shows me around the back workroom and where extra supplies can be found. "It makes my heart happy to see the two of you getting along so well already."
"I haven't been this excited to go to work in a long time," I admit.
"Aww, you lovies me already," Caleb teases before another round of giggles breaks free from both of us.
Barrett rolls his eyes at Caleb's silliness.
"We have several new custom order requests," Barrett says sternly, getting us back on track. And as fun and silly as we can be, I know Caleb and I both take our jobs seriously.
"Hit us with 'em, Daddio," Caleb says, and I don't hold back my smile.
Caleb told me that as long as we keep it professional on the showroom floor, we can have our fun in the back. So that is what we've been doing for the past hour.
Barrett explains the orders to us and then hands over the order forms before heading to the front of the shop, where he will be waiting on customers today and is likely to take more orders for Valentine's Day.
Caleb holds up the first order. I feel a surge of nervous energy as he rattles off the details. "It's a complex arrangement for an anniversary, a cascade of deep crimson roses and delicatewhite lilies. Do you want to help me with it? It might be fun to collaborate on this one." Caleb asks, and my heart jolts with excitement.
Perhaps having help with the first arrangement would be a good idea, so I can get a feel for his approach to creating something.
Caleb begins gathering stems with practiced ease. His movements are fluid and confident. I watch, absorbing every detail. When Caleb gets back to the workbench, the air is thick with the sweet, heady perfume of fresh blossoms.
A scent that I'm already beginning to associate with this new adventure.
Just as I'm done tying the bow around the base, and Caleb is swapping out one of the lilies that isn't as perky as he would like, the doorbell from the back door rings, causing me to jump.
Caleb giggles at me. "It's probably the flower order Barrett placed."
