by Elsie James
“Juni,” I say, “you should go too. I can finish your list so you can have extra time to beautify for your speed dates.”
“I would rather you beautify with me and finally rip the tags off of that green dress we bought last summer,” she says.
“You heard her,” I laugh. “I have perfect flowers to find.”
When I get home that night, Michael’s words dance through my head on repeat. Go watch him play baseball? Was he serious? Why would he—tall dark and handsome Greek god in a dirty but somehow sexy baseball uniform—want me to go anywhere with him?
For that matter, I’m a successful business owner and CEO of my own life. Why would I want to go anywhere with Michael, a flower delivery man who spends his time going to trivia nights? Well, probably because he is handsome, charming, and has the best biceps I have ever seen. But, that’s beside the point. The whole thing is unfathomable.
I step across my barren front yard. Silence hits me as I unlock my tiny piece of paradise. I love it here. Of course, there are a few things I would like to do eventually. One day, I’ll put pictures on the walls and plant flowers in the window boxes. But, those things will come with time. I’ve only lived here for six years, after all. For now, I need my fuzzy pajama pants and my pink cupcake graphic tee. I slide into bed with my phone without bothering to turn on any lights in the house and pull up the search engine.
Where will I find a nursery crazy enough to sell me all of their Prodigal Posies?
***
The shop is surprisingly quiet on Juni’s days off. When she asked me for a job here at Petals, I knew she would be brilliant. Her designs are loud and quirky, just like her.
I take advantage of the calm in the shop. I spend my morning calling every nursery within thirty miles of Peony Pointe, but no one is up for the task. The flowers are too rare, too delicate, and too hard to transport. I told Ainsley it was impossible. I am starting to think I was right.
GB Nursery is the only relatively local place that I have not called yet. I pick up my phone to dial their number and hesitate. I don’t want Michael to think that I’m calling because I want to talk to him. Although, a part of me does want to talk to him. I take a deep breath. This is my job. Any responsible business owner in my position would put their hormones aside and make the call. So, that is what I will do.
But first, I make myself a cup of tea. I pace in and out of the cooler. I practice what I want to say. Looking at the impeccable placement of each stem, I imagine Michael walking into the cooler.
If he were here, would he push the door open? Would he be shirtless? Ooooh, would he be naked? Would I be naked? Would my hands run themselves along his washboard stomach? Would my panties get wet? I stop myself.
“Hello, GB Nursery.” Although I have only heard it once, there’s no mistaking his voice. It is Michael. Why is their delivery man answering the phone?
“Um.” I clear my throat awkwardly into the phone. “Hello. My name is Jessa Reece. I am the owner at Petals.” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Should I assume he knows who I am?
“Hey, sweetheart, calling to take me up on that baseball game?”
“What? No Michael, I, um, no I am not. I…” I stammer. Caught completely off guard, I take a breath to collect myself. Michael is just a person, a regular business contact. “I’m calling because I need Prodigal Posies for an event. I can’t find them and I need...,” I breathe in through my nose. Please don’t think I’m crazy. “2500 of them.”
“Oh.” Michael doesn’t sound concerned.
“Why are you answering the phone, anyway?”
Michael laughs. “We’re family at GB. We all pitch in where we see a need. The phone was ringing, so I grabbed it. Jessa, I would love to take care of you. Consider it done.”
Wait, what? I cannot believe what I am hearing. To say I’m surprised is an understatement. It sounds too good to be true. “You have 2500 Prodigal Posies, and you are going to sell them all to me? Don’t you need to check with a manager?”
“Jessa, we have the flowers and they are all yours.”
“It is hard for me to trust, well, anything. But, I’m trusting you. You can really make this happen?”
“When I make a commitment, I always deliver. But, I do have a stipulation.”
“Alright,” I say cautiously. I hold my breath. My heart sinks into my stomach.
“I need to personally oversee the transaction. This includes the delivery of the flowers and their transportation to the event. Of course, I will need to approve the design to ensure they will stay alive through the end of the night. And, you will have to come out to the nursery to confirm that what we have will work for you.”
My mouth drops open and I move my hand to cover the speaker on my phone. I exhale sharply as my face flushes with relief. Is that all he needs from me? Of course he can oversee the transaction. I tap my pen rapidly against the counter. Who wouldn’t want to ensure that a flower that valuable was taken care of properly? And who wouldn’t want to see more of Michael?
Michael has saved the day. Charming, alluring Michael has come through for me. An invisible weight floats off of my shoulders. My body aches with relief.
“Michael, thank you. I accept.” Excitement bubbles through me.
Chapter 3: Michael
I’ve asked Jessa for a date on four different occasions now, but who's counting? She just has no idea how happy I could make her. She needs me to show her. Trivia nights, pub crawls, and baseball games seem to not be her things. So, I made Jessa an offer she couldn’t refuse. She agreed to a lunch date to talk about the design for the Prodigal Posies. But, I don’t plan on talking about flowers.
Jessa slides into the red leather booth at Cindy’s Diner. Her long hair is tied into some kind of knot on the top of her head. Her white shirt has a round neck, and when she moves, I catch tempting glimpses of cleavage. I want to bury my face in it.
Without thought, I move the place settings onto the same side of the table and slide into the booth next to her. Jessa looks surprised but not uncomfortable. She scoots towards the wall to make room for me. But, I’m not interested in creating space between us. Undeterred, I move closer to her until our legs touch. I breathe in her sweet scent. The fullness of her thigh on mine makes it hard to focus on anything else.
“So, let’s talk design,” Jessa says.
“Hold on, sweetheart, let’s talk lunch first. I’m starving.” I open the sticky plastic menu and place it between us on the table. “So, what will it be?”
Jessa smiles. “I think I will have the chocolate chip cookie.”
“Right, but what about actual food? You know, protein?”
“Ugh, if I have to.” Jessa orders a burger but asks the waiter to bring out the cookies before the meal. Just another thing to love about her.
“You know, I love that you order real food. I dated a girl once who had the world’s longest list of things she didn’t eat. Dairy, gluten, soy, wheat—pretty much anything besides air.”
“So, you had to kick her to the curb for her dietary restrictions, huh?” Jessa looks unimpressed.
“No, actually, I have this thing about always missing red flags in relationships. So, it took me longer than it should have to get out of it,” I say honestly.
“What finally did it?” Jessa asks.
I think for a minute. Then I decide to answer with a version of the truth because telling Jessa that my ex was an impatient gold-digger who hated all of my friends and family seems like it might kill the mood. “She couldn’t see my vision and she didn’t want to wait.”
The cookies arrive and we dig in.
“Hah! This is garbage.” The cookie is fine but I try to get a smile out of her.
Jessa looks at me with a smile. Nailed it. “This? It’s so moist. What's wrong with you? I love it.”
“Oh, I should have warned you when you ordered. My family has the best top-secret recipes. I could be coerced into sharing it with you, but we’d have to be nake
d.”
Jessa blushes and leans into me with a smirk on her face. “Noted. And for the record, I would love a copy of the recipe.”
We finish our meals. I successfully keep her from talking about the flowers even once. Instead, we talk about her life in Peony Pointe and her friends.
“Have you ever thought that you might be a little jealous of Ainsley’s freedom?” I ask. “Don’t you ever think about packing up and going somewhere? Not permanently. You know, just to have an adventure?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I always wish I had time to plant flowers in the empty window boxes at my house. I could create a view to look at while I drink my tea.”
“Planting flowers in a window box?” I’m not letting her off the hook that easily. “You gotta do better than that, sweetheart! I can do that for you in two hours.”
“I can do it. I grew up with just my mom. She had to work a lot. So, I learned very early on how to do things around the house. I will do it. I just haven’t had time yet.”
“I am talking about a big adventure.”
She swirls her water with her straw. A flash of frustration crosses her face. Jessa goes silent.
“What? Just say it.” I look at Jessa, confused. “Come on, tell me about your adventure.”
Her face grows uncharacteristically somber. She fidgets in her seat. “You know, It’s not that easy for me to just let you in Michael. I can’t even think of the last time I let myself dream that unrealistically.”
“I can go first,” I say, encouraging her. “I’ve always wanted to take a dive in the great barrier reef.” Her eyes are still distant. Come on, dream girl, let me in. I keep talking. “But, my adventures update by the minute. Now, I have always wanted to take a dive in the great barrier reef...with you...naked.” This brings her back to me. She rolls her eyes and leans a little closer. Her arm touches my bicep.
“Michael.” My name crawls slowly out of the corner of sexy smirk. Her eyes lock on mine and I can’t look away. I move my hand onto her thigh and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Come on, let’s hear it.”
She inhales. Why is this so hard for her?
“I have always imagined myself waking up in a tiny cottage with a huge garden on an English countryside estate.” Her words are timid and rush quickly out of her mouth. They are hardly audible. It's like she can’t bear to hear her own dream out loud.
But why? Fear of what? It can’t be judgment from me. I’m always up for an adventure. Is it fear that it won't come true? Because I can find a way to make this adventure happen for her.
“There you go. Now that is an adventure. You should go. Or, we could go.” Jessa needs me to push her out of her comfort zone. “What do you want to do first when we get there? Bike ride through the town? Explore the old streets?”
“Hmmm.” She hesitates. But she answers. “I guess I would find a proper tea shop with an uptight, posh owner and try every blend they have.”
I feel so satisfied when a smile spreads across her face.
“But how could I? My life is here. Petals is here. There are so many things I need to do before I go traipsing around an English countryside. My checklist is in perpetual overflow. That kind of adventure is out of the question for me for now.” Jessa is so intense. I love the fire in her eyes when she talks about her company.
My mind wanders when I think of the other ways she might direct her passion. She has so many things she needs to do? I agree. She needs to give herself to me right here. She needs to be pushed onto the table while I make her forget about her checklists. Jessa needs me to show her how it feels to lose control.
“Let’s start small. You’re taking Friday off so I can take you on a bike ride to the farmer’s market.” I don’t even get the last word out before she responds.
“Michael, I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” I ask seriously.
“I guess I just don't get it. Trivia nights, baseball leagues, bike rides...I mean, they sound fun, but they don't really matter, right? They’re just things to do when you’re bored, and I am never bored. I learned very early on to work hard and keep my priorities straight.” Jessa’s face flashes frustration and sadness. I think she might really believe what she says.
“Well, we will have to make an adventure out of our trip to GB Nursery next week then. I will pick you up at ten.” She’s riding with me, I don’t leave her any room to object.
***
I arrive at Jessa’s house to find her dressed for the occasion. Pink rain boots for walking the muddy gravel roads of the nursery and tight black pants show off her never-ending curves. Her oversized green sweater hangs off of one side of her shoulder, revealing a white strap of a tank top beneath. Her long hair falls perfectly straight down her back.
Jessa pauses as she climbs into my truck. “Thanks for doing this Michael. This event means so much to Ainsley. And to me too. Her father, Mr. Richards, has always been so kind to me. Over the years, he’s filled in for my own dad too many times to count. He never had to, but he did it anyway. I just want him to know I noticed and that I appreciate him.”
“Hey, I’ve got you taken care of, sweetheart.”
The GB Nursery parking lot is buzzing with its usual energy when we arrive. I grab Jessa’s hand and lead her up the dirt path to the entrance. We walk under the large, arched entryway. The cedar trellis is wrapped with waxy green Jasmine vines and white flowers in full bloom. Her eyes light up as she takes it all in. I am taking her in. The way her hand fits in mine. The way her hips sway with each step she takes. Her full chest. Her thick thighs. Every inch of Jessa’s curvy body etches itself in my mind. She comes alive among the flowers.
Jessa leans in for a hug. I’m happy to give it to her. When she lingers in my arms, what started as a comforting embrace turns into something else. Something hotter. When she looks up at me, I grab her chin and guide her mouth to mine. Her apprehensive lips land softly on mine. I part them gently with my tongue. Her body weakens when I lift her off the ground. Jessa’s hands on the back of my neck send shivers down my spine. My body aches with desperation for more of her touch. I want her right here. I take a deep breath and release her. I don’t know how much longer I can control myself around her.
“Go wander. I’ll grab a tractor. The Prodigal Posies are kept quite a ways down the road in the exotics greenhouse.”
Jessa's smile glows as she turns to explore the nursery.
I make my way through the crowd and pop my head into the main barn. “Hey ladies.”
Sierra and Cheryl lookup. “Hey, look who decided to pop in,” says Sierra. Cheryl with her wild grey hair and round glasses on the tip of her nose smiles at me from behind her cash register.
“How is she today?” I ask.
“Not too good, baby. She’s been wandering.”
The pit in my stomach aches. Lately, Gram has been having more bad days than good.
“But don’t you worry. Sierra and I have her covered. What are you doing here anyway? Checking up on us?” she asks with a laugh. Cheryl is old enough to be my grandmother and always has a way of making me talk.
“I brought a girl and I need to grab a tractor.” I grin at her.
“Ohhh.” She winks at me. “Keys are in the drawer.”
“I know. Thanks, Cheryl.”
On my way to the tractor barn, I look down the dirt road and see Jessa in the distance, standing at the entrance to greenhouse nine. Nine is closed to the public. I am surprised to see Jessa walk in anyway. I jog toward the greenhouse. What is Jessa doing? As I approach, I see a tiny woman with white hair standing next to Jessa. She wears a pale pink cardigan and a long white skirt. There is no mistaking her— it’s Gram.
“The Jeweled Kolibri blooms only once in its lifetime,” Gram is saying. “The timing cannot be charted. Only the flower itself knows when it will open. But, one thing is always certain. The magnificent bloom is always saved for exceptional people on exceptional occasions.”
I stand back and watch from the doorway in awe as Gram speaks with a clarity we haven’t heard from her in years.
“I’ve never seen a flower so intricate, it’s...magical,” Jessa says, wide-eyed.
They look together at the baseball-size bud on the end of a large, emerald green stem. The intricate, lacey petals layer tightly, one on top of the next. They shimmer when the light catches them. The fluorescent blue and purple ruffles on the outer edge of each petal gather together, forming jeweled waves that encircle the bud.
“I can’t imagine seeing it in full bloom. I wonder if I will ever have the chance.”
Gram continues, “You have an eye for quality dear. A single stem can cost a small fortune, and most people will never see it bloom in their lifetime.”
“I can see why it’s so expensive.” Jessa nods her head in agreement.
“It is the most precious of all the flowers in my nursery.” Gram gestures to the flowers that surround them. I feel a swell of pride watching the old woman in her happy place.
Jessa looks at Gram. “In your nursery?”
“Of course,” says Gram. “GB Nursery. GB is me—Gram Benjamin.”
Suddenly, the color begins to drain from Gram’s face as it has done so many times in these past couple years. “I spent my time...I spend days...now sweetheart my grandson...I can’t…” Gram trails off, looking apologetic and completely confused. I take a step forward but stop as Jessa grabs Gram’s hands.
“Gram.” Jessa speaks in a loud and calm tone and gently puts her hand on Gram’s cheek. “Will you sit with me for a little while?” One arm makes its way behind Gram’s back as Jessa guides her to the greenhouse bench. Jessa holds Gram’s hand. Gram smiles a vacant smile. Jessa thoughtfully gives her time and asks nothing of her. She nods at Gram and whispers, “You are exceptional.”
I watch the two of them on the bench for a long while. They’re so peaceful. These two women have my whole heart. Side by side, they are so different and yet similar in an odd sort of way. Two passionate, loyal, strong women. Both entrepreneurs. Both inspired by the flowers. Two women I love, each unwittingly holding me at arm’s length. Gram wants to be here, but her mind drifts in and out of time and space. She’s held hostage by her diagnosis. Jessa wants to be here too, I think. But, for some reason she won’t let herself create a life outside of her work. It’s like she is held hostage by her own ambition.