He Loves Me Not (Bunch-A-Blooms 1)

In a town known as the sweetheart of Ohio, you’d think a flower shop would be a shoo-in for success. Especially one with a history like theirs. She’d inherited the shop from her namesake, Mildred Lambert. The tiny shop had been around for over forty years. They’d weathered economic downturns, a savage storm—which literally blew part of the roof off—and the competition that came from flower franchises that delivered, had online ordering, and a slew of staff who could whip up an order at the snap of a finger. The one thing they couldn’t tackle was the need for repairs, upgrades, and helping pay the hospital bills for her father, along with the nursing home fees for her grandparents at the same time.

“Marriage is supposed to be sacred.”

“I thought it was the union of best friends.”

“Really?” she asked dryly.

He gave her the little boy grin that always managed to sway her. “Come on, Petunia. If anyone could pull this off and actually co-exist happily, it’s us.”

“This is more than playing house. We’d be expected to be intimate …”

He scanned her body, licked his lips, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “We both know that won’t be a problem. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten—”

“Mas!”

She tried to calm her racing heart. Those months spent exploring each other’s bodies were etched into her brain. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh as she recalled the feel and smell of him. They’d been college roomies who foolishly thought they’d be able to keep sex and friendship separate. In the end, he had, and she’d struggled. Though she never told him. Instead, she latched on to a boy who was interested in her in class and ended their tryst on the grounds that she was now dating, and it wouldn’t be fair to Bryan.

“I—” The bell above the door jangled, and she said a prayer of thanks. “Can’t continue this conversation right now.”

He sighed. “Tonight?”

“Since it’s now Friday, yes, tonight. And don’t think you got away with waiting to the last minute to ask me about this. I know you.” She pointed her finger. “Now get out of here and let me do my job.” As best as I can after that proposition. Or proposal. Jesus Christ, Mason Patten just asked me to marry him.

“How are you doing today, ma’am,” she inquired, smiling at the middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and kind dark blue eyes.

“I just thought I’d have a look. I’m thinking of doing a centerpiece for Thanksgiving.”

“I can definitely help you with that. Do you want to see some samples of centerpieces we’ve done previously?”

“That would be great. But what about him?” She glanced at Mason, who stood a few feet away, with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, he was just leaving. Right, Mas?”

“Yep. I’ll see you later on tonight.”

She kept the smile pasted on and beat back the urge to strangle him. He had a way of bringing out the best—or the worst—in her, depending on the day. “I’m Petunia by the way.”

“I’m Mary. This is the first holiday where all the kids are coming back home, and I want to go the extra mile.”

“Floral arrangements have a way of adding a finished touch to decorations, don’t they?”

“Yes, exactly,” Mary exclaimed. Her smile grew, and she became animated as she spoke with her hands.

Petunia left the puzzle Mason had laid at her feet behind as she focused her attention on her customer. There were so many things flowers did. They improved mood, set tone, and added an extra something to events. For her, the phrase, ‘Say it with flowers’ was a very real thing. Growing up, she’d often been outdoors in the garden, picking vegetables, weeding flowers beds, and cooking with the produce the land had yielded. Some of her favorite memories from childhood happened in the kitchen with her mother and grandmother, or out on their land before they moved the plants for the store into the then new greenhouse that supplied a majority of the inventory they used. It cut down on cost and added a personal touch.

Before this year, the family always managed to keep their head above water. The thought of closing broke her heart. It was more than a store; it was a family legacy. How could she let it close when she had the means to save it? I can’t. The decision was made before she had time to talk herself out of it.

***

Mason

He scanned the living room with a critical eye. From experience, he knew Ms. Petunia Lambert ran a tight ship. She’d never let him shirk his duties around the house they’d rented in college. He had his cleaning and laundry days, as well as nights he cooked for them. It had been refreshing being held accountable to such mundane tasks. His mother had let him and his brothers get away with murder growing up, and once he left the house, he realized that attitude had yielded a heavy sense of entitlement and a lack of domestic skill. He cringed at the thought of his first incident with the washing machine. Pink T-shirts were not his thing. Petunia had laughed her ass off, and then she’d walked him through it step by step. She was always doing that—teaching, challenging, and helping him grow.

Born in the same hospital, a day apart thanks to my birth after midnight, to parents who’d met in Lamaze classes, they’d been destined to be friends. There wasn’t a time in his life where he didn’t have his smart-mouthed, intelligent, moral compass. He’d gone through a self-destructive, self-involved period that earned him a reputation he didn’t seem to be able to shake. Many had turned their backs on him, but she’d stayed. She never watered down her opinions on his ill-advised choices, but she stood by him. A man didn’t forget something like that.

Thoughts of his longest-held friend and one-time lover led to mixed emotions. She was like an appendage—necessary to function normally and remain happy. Every relationship she’d entered had filled him with fear. Once she married

and had children, he wasn’t sure where they’d stand. It made him sick to his stomach. It was selfish, but he never claimed to be a saint. At least this way he’d have more time with her. It was their last hoorah before they officially grew up and everything changed. The future made his stomach ache. Life without easy access to Petunia would be gray. He never let on to how dependent he’d become on her presence, or how any woman he dated never measured up to their months of bliss. Young and stupid, he hadn’t understood what he had until it slipped through his fingers and she was dating someone else. The sight of her caramel brown skin glistening with sweat, and sated from his loving was seared onto his brain.