Page 12 of Bloom

“So, is there a flower that meanswe should totally meet for coffee?”

His eyes met mine, his cheeks a lovely blush. “Not sure there is.”

“What about a flower that saysdinner sometime?”

He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth, still fighting a smile. “I think chickweed meanswe should meet again, but it’s not specific to coffee or dinner.”

I looked around his shop. “Do you have any chickweed?”

“No,” he said. “But I do have a phone number. Which I believe you already have.”

“I do. And there’s another coincidence, because so do I. Have a phone number, that is. I should totally give it to you.” I shrugged. “In lieu of chickweed, that is.”

“Oh, of course. In lieu of chickweed. A fair exchange.”

And then we stood there just smiling at each other again until Lina came through the door, holding a rather large arrangement of flowers. It seemed to spur Keats into work-mode. “Right. The flowers you wanted. We should probably do that.”

“We probably should,” I said, ignoring the way Lina was trying not to watch us. “So what are the chances of getting one of these by Friday?” I showed him a picture on my phone. “In an ornate pot, and it needs to be bearing fruit.”

“Oh, wow. You really do have obscure requests.”

I chuckled, enjoying the moment of him standing close enough to look at my phone screen. He smelled so good...

“That’s a kumquat,” he said. “I would need to make some phone calls, but it’s not impossible.”

“Awesome. And I’ll also need two arrangements: one of red orchids, definitely no white, and the other arrangement of apple and magnolia blossoms. I was thinking for a table display.”

“Okaaay,” he said slowly. “I’m going to assume there’s a cultural significance.”

“You would assume correctly.” I sighed. “My client is showing an exclusive residential suite to some Chinese business partners. To anyone else, these flowers and the kumquat plant will just be pretty. But these people will get the significance. They mean prosperity, success, and wealth, and are like a token of goodwill.”

“You like flowers with meaning, huh?”

I thought about that for a second. “It seems I do. Though to be honest, I didn’t until my awful ex got into the whole floriography thing, as if he was some knowledgeable guru.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s probably into reading tea leaves this week, so whatever. And the cultural significance thing and knowing which items speak to which person is more an art of gift giving and knowing your client and what they need, which is my area of expertise. It’s what I do.”

“I’m impressed,” he said quietly.

It made my heart knock against my ribs.

“So can you do it for me?” I asked. When his wide eyes met mine, I realised how that sounded. “The flowers and the kumquat tree, I mean.”

“It should be fine,” he said, amused. “I’ll make some calls about the tree and let you know. Though I’ll need your number for that.”

“Smooth,” I said, taking his business card from my wallet for his number, and I sent him a text.

Hey

He took his phone from his apron pocket, read the message, and met my gaze. “Hey.”

I blushed.

I freaking blushed.

“I should change your name in my contacts,” he said, thumbing his screen. “So I don’t accidentally ask one of my suppliers out for dinner.”

The butterflies in my belly swooped and somersaulted. “Yes, that’d be a shame.”

He spoke slowly as he typed. “Lin. Den. A-cres.”