Nip it in the Bud (Bunch-A-Blooms 3)

“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it,” I say more to myself than him.

“It’s hidden. If you’re not looking for it, it’s easy to miss. Are you up for meeting there in say an hour?”

A million negative thoughts rise in my head. I tamp them down. It’s time to take a chance. Waiting by idly had gotten me a Dear John dismissal from Ross. Drew is actively interested in me and putting in the effort.

“I can do that.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you.”

“Me too,” I admit softly. We hang up, and I can’t help but feel a little giddy. I’m getting ready to have ice cream with a sweet guy who I know wants more than to get in my pants. I move to my room and rifle through my closet, coming up with a soft pink T-shirt dress, and a pair of pink sandals. It hits all the three c’s—casual, cute, and comfy. It’s perfect for a kind of date outfit. I grab my oversized floral purse and head out the front door.

Not wanting the girls to make a big deal out of this If things don’t pan out, I keep the meet up to myself. We’re meeting in a public setting, so I don’t feel I need an emergency out. It’s ice cream, how long could it take to eat if things turned bad? Feeling empowered, I head to the car with an extra spring in my step.

***

Drew

I can’t believe I’m actually nervous. I wipe my hands on my jeans as I wait for her to appear. I could wait until we’ve had a few more dates and delay coming clean, but I know how precious time is. I have a few months of downtime to do some recording before I’m back on the road. I can’t waste any of that if I hope to turn this connection I felt with her into something tangible that can withstand all the time I spend away. It’s been a long time since I attempted to date. Between the girls, my career, and the fact that long distance is like a plague to most people, it’s easier to stay single.

But there’s something about Willow that makes me want to try. So here I am, sweating bullets because I have a lot of baggage. It’s better to be honest upfront, so I have to tell her about my girls and let the chips fall where they may, but not before I enjoy at least one date with her. The door opens, and she steps inside, lit by the sunlight pouring through the door behind her forming a halo on her dark hair.

She’s gorgeous in a simple pink dress that covers everything but hints at the shapely frame beneath. Her legs are long with muscular calves, and her skin all but glows. I stand. She smiles, and walks over to the table to join me. The heart-shaped design on the backs of the chair suddenly seems less cheesy and more romantic.

“Drew, this place is adorable,” she says as she meets me halfway.

“And yet it doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

“Smooth talker.”

“Truth-speaker.”

“I think I see those word skills in use.”

I shake my head. “Nah, you haven’t seen anything yet. Since it’s your first time here, I’ll let you pick the seat.”

“The romantic in me can’t resist these chairs,” she whispers.

I hide my chuckle with a cough. “All right, ladies first.” I gesture toward the table and pull out her chair. Being the father of girls made me hyper aware of how I treat women. I was young and stupid when they were born, but I tightened up. I had no other choice. I push her back in and sit across from her. A few moments later a waitress in a pair of jeans and a crisp white T-shirt with a black apron approaches with two laminated placemat-style menus.

“Hi, I’m Rhonda, and I’ll be your waitress today. I’ll give you to a few minutes to look over the menu.”

“Thanks, Rhonda,” I say politely as I keep my eyes trained on Willow. Her eyes dance with mirth, and she exudes an almost child-like sense of joy and wonder.

“I love places like this. Where history is baked into every nook and cranny.” She peers around. “I can just imagine girls in poodle skirts, and boys in button ups and crisp khaki pants lined up. Ha, or maybe on the other spectrum. Bad boys with slicked back hair, white T-shirts, and denim jeans.”

“You like bad boys, Willow?”

She snickers. “No. I like men who can handle their business.”

Her answer sends something like hope running through me. Women say they want a nice guy, but in reality, we finish last often.

“I like to hear that.”

“Did I strike you as someone with a penchant for bad boys?”

“I never assume. That’s why I’m asking.”

“It’s never been my thing.”