When he was staring at another display, I looked down at myself, wanting to see what he saw when he stared at me. Damn, I wished I’d worn something cuter. Today I was wearing a pink, form-fitting t-shirt with our Blossoms and Vines logo across my chest.
I had on blue jeans and pink sandals. Nothing special. Nothing that should've earned the attention he kept giving me. Given the way his gaze kept raking over me, it was like he was seeing me with my clothes off.
Heat crept into my cheeks. Was he picturing Juliet's body every time he looked at me?Damn it.I should've worn my apron. At least it would've hidden my curves. My gaze flicked toward the hook where it hung.
If I suddenly put it on now, it would seem suspicious. So I left it where it was. Rome wandered over to another display, pretending to study the flowers there. Every so often, his eyes found me again.
The hope in his dark gaze chipped away at my resolve. I wished I could walk over there and wrap my arms around him. He looked like he could use a hug. I could really use one from him.
He shoved both hands into his pockets and faced the flowers again.So that was what he did when he was nervous.Rome was not a man who lacked confidence. Yet here he was, nervous, because of me.
I hated this. I hated what I was putting him through. But what other choice did I have? We were trapped in an impossible situation. No amount of wishing could change what had happened to Marcel.
No amount of love could erase the secrets standing between Rome and me. We were in a hopeless situation. All I could do was wait him out. And pray, he gave up on Juliet sooner rather than later. From the other side of the shop, Rome's voice drifted toward me.
"I know you don’t have a favorite flower. But if you had to pick one flower you liked best, what would it be?" he asked.
I smiled to myself. Placing my elbows on the counter, I rested my chin on my hands and answered honestly.
"I like flowers that represent love," I told him.
He watched me from the aisle. For a moment, neither of us spoke, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other as he considered my response.
"Flowers that represent love, huh? You mean roses?" he asked. "Aren't they the flowers of love?"
"Roses aren't the only flowers that symbolize love."
“What other flowers represent love?” he asked.
Before I could think better of it, I stepped out from behind the counter. Every instinct I possessed told me to keep my distance. Instead, I found myself walking toward him. When I reached his side, I stopped in front of a display of tulips.
"These areoneof my favorites."
He briefly glanced at the flowers before returning his gaze to me.
“What are these?” he asked.
"Tulips. They're strongly associated with love." My fingertips brushed lightly over one of the blooms. "Red tulips represent undying love, loyalty, and trust."
I moved my hand to another arrangement.
"Pink tulips symbolize perfect love," I told him. "And purple tulips, they represent eternal love." Finally, I rested my fingers against a deep black tulip. "And black tulips..." I whispered. "They're said to represent sacrificial love."
My throat tightened after those last two words.
Sacrificial love.
How fitting.
"Tulips are ideal when you want to express heartfelt emotions," I continued. "And romantic commitment."
Another round of silence settled between us. I became painfully aware of his gaze on me. He wasn't looking at the flowers. Instead, he was observing me cautiously as I gently touched a tulip’s petal.
His hand lifted, and his fingertips came to rest against the petal beside the one I was caressing. Our hands were so close now, they were almost touching. We were so close, I could feel the warmth emanating from him.
I kept my eyes on the red tulips.
And Rome... he kept his eyes on me.
