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

“Not quite yet.” He glanced down, and she crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. He bent down the last few inches, and their lips brushed gently. As she slipped her tongue in his mouth, he moaned, shocked by her forwardness. His eyes lowered as he lost himself in the irresistible taste of Petunia and chocolate. They parted, and she grinned. “Yeah, now I’m avenged. I don’t know how you put up with her for so long. She’s so stuck-up and condescending.”

“I couldn’t see it until we went out with other people. Most of our time wasn’t exactly spent holding deep conversations.”

“And that’s why you never found anyone who stuck. You always let junior do the thinking for you.”

“You think so, huh?” He took his card and wondered what she’d say if he told her the truth.

“Unless you tell me otherwise.” She paused.

Shaking his head, he signed his name, then retrieved his card. “I have no pearls of wisdom to enlighten you with.”

“Ha. Thought so.” She tapped his nose. He bit at her finger, and she squealed, making him laugh. Her laughter was contagious. He chuckled, twining their fingers as he led her out into the night, filled with pride over the woman on his arm.

Step Three: Date and Date and Date some more.

Petunia

She walked into the store with a box of donuts in one hand and a carrier of large iced vanilla coffees. She was opening with Willow today, and despite the weeks that had passed, she still felt bad for making her friend feel like the last to know about her and Mason.

“Willow, are you here?”

“I am. Is that coffee? Oh my God, bless you.” She skirted out of the back room and took the carrier from her. “You know you don’t have to keep plying me with treats, right?”

“Yes?”

Willow rolled her large, doe-like eyes. “I’m not mad. I was hurt, for a second, but I know how fast things come together.”

She sighed. “Are you sure?’

“Girl, am I the type to humor someone?” Willow cocked her hip and raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Exactly. If you still want to bring goodies, I won’t complain. But I don’t want guilt gifts.”

Petunia barked a laugh. “Guilt gifts?”

“It’s what they are, isn’t it?”

“I plead the fifth,” Petunia muttered.

“Uh huh.”

Grinning, she asked, “Why are you so tired anyway?”

“I’ve been up late with Ross.”

“Cute, rugged, local woodworking artist who delivers to the shop?” Petunia asked, intrigued. She’d never missed the obvious attraction that existed between her and the older man. He had a thick head of graying black hair, angular face, and almost lumberjack-style that consisted of plaid, form fitting jeans, and boots. Given the fact that he chopped down the trees he used to make his projects, maybe lumberjack wasn’t a far-off description.

“Only Ross I know. He’s been working on some new pieces, something pitched more to women, and he wanted my thoughts as he worked.”

“So you’ve been spending a lot of time at his house I take it?”

“Yes. Is that a bad thing? I mean, I know we take work from him, but it’s not a conflict of interest, right?”

“No, I’m just wondering if he’s been keeping you up with his hands in other ways.”

“Not all of us have a secret relationship going,” Willow said with a laugh.