Love in Bloom (35 page)

Bobbi's smile was smug. “He is now.” She pulled one of the flower-tipped pens from the cup by the cash register and began to idly fiddle with the petals. “How long do you think a person should wait to get married?”

“You barely know the guy,” Hope protested.

“I know, but I think he's the one.”

“You thought that about Jason.” She also thought that about her first husband and several men after him. The last thing Bobbi needed was to end up with the wrong man again.

“I told you. I was thinking with my head and not my heart. You know, Mom and Dad are coming back in August.”

“To look for a summer home on the lake, not to plan a wedding.”

“There's nothing wrong with killing two birds with one stone.”

Hope pointed a stern finger at her. “Don't even think it.”

Bobbi looked highly offended. “I didn't say I was going to.”

“You didn't have to. I can read your mind.”

“Well, it's a quick read,” Bobbi quipped and stuffed the pen back in the mug.

What a strange flower love was, Hope thought. In the heat of passion it could grow like a weed. But no weed was as easily killed. Maybe finding the right person was more like looking through a flower shop and trying to decide what to purchase. Which scent did you prefer? What plant could you keep alive? What would look nice in a vase on your dining room table or living room coffee table? What went with your colors? It was easy to be attracted to many different arrangements, but in the end you purchased one. Sometimes she worried that Bobbi was fickle when it came to men, but maybe Bobbi wasn't so much fickle as simply shopping, making sure she got what she really wanted.

Maybe Jason was shopping, too. But interested in her? No. Couldn't be.

Yet, the next day, there he was again. “My secretary wanted to know what kind of flower that was. I forgot.”

“Gerbera daisy,” Hope said. She grabbed a piece of scratch paper and wrote it down. “Here, so you can remember.”

He slipped it in the pocket of his jean shirt. “Thanks.” He casually looked at his watch. “It's almost lunchtime. Are you hungry?”

Her? Suddenly, she could barely breathe, let alone think about eating.

“You do eat, don't you?”

“Only mealtime and in between.”

He smiled. “Well, then. Come on.”

He wasn't interested in her. Why would he want to go to lunch with her? “Why do you want to go out to lunch?” she blurted.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Because I'm hungry?”

Just then, Duke walked into the shop. “Bobbi here?” he asked Hope.

As if drawn by radar, Bobbi came out of the back room. Hope watched as a huge smile blossomed on her sister's face. It was a different
expression than Bobbi had worn when Jason showed up. That smile had been all about the thrill of the chase and had sparkled with excitement and speculation. This one held something more, something deeper, something rather like contentment. How had she gotten there so fast?

“Hi,” she purred.

“Want lunch?” Duke asked her.

“Sorry, man, you're out of luck,” Jason informed him in a voice that held not even a hint of sorry. “Somebody's got to hold down the shop and Hope's already leaving.”

Duke bristled, but before he could say anything, Bobbi said, “You guys go ahead. We'll stay here and order takeout. In fact, Duke can help me in the back room.”

Duke's hackles went down instantly and he grinned at Bobbi. “Okay.”

“Come on,” Jason said to Hope as if that settled everything.

He escorted her out of the shop and down the street to the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and chocolate chip cookies ushered them in. The espresso maker was getting a good workout, and the gurgle and whoosh as Amber made lattes served as background for the crowd of people visiting at tole-painted tables scattered around the room. They ordered sandwiches made with Sarah Goodwin's popular herbed bread, then moved on to order their drinks. Hope felt her cheeks warming under Amber's speculative look as she set them on the pickup counter.

They snagged the last vacant table. Jason slung an arm over the back of his chair and regarded her. “So, are you ever going to tell me what that poem was about?”

He said it teasingly, so she forced her voice to be light. “Just thoughts about love and life.”

“Whose love and whose life?” he countered.

“Who knows?” she said, and became engrossed with her coffee.

“You're an interesting woman. You and your sister are polar opposites.”

“I guess we are,” she mused. “I wish I were more like her.” Had she just said that out loud? Sheesh.

“Yeah? How?”

So many ways.
“Oh, her looks, her charm, her energy.”

He shrugged. “You're not so bad yourself, you know.”

Which is why the minute you saw Bobbi I became invisible?
Hope kept her mouth clamped shut.

He leaned forward. “Okay, I'll admit, when I saw your sister, all my brains fell out,” he said, as if he'd just read her thoughts. “But you want to know something?”

Not if it was going to be more about how smitten he'd been with Bobbi. Perversely, she said, “What?”

“I'm not sorry things ended with us.”

Hope raised an eyebrow.

“That's for real. And no hard feelings. Even though you two did a number on me, I think I get why you did it.”

He did? Hope forced herself to close her dropping jaw.

“I helped my brother cheat on a test once.”

He was comparing her helping Bobbi write clever poems and cards to him aiding and abetting his brother in cheating? “I don't think—” she began.

“Civics. He was flunking it. And he was getting D's in everything else. Never turned in his homework—had senioritis real bad. All of a sudden, it dawned on him what a dumb shit he'd been. He wanted to graduate. This one teacher was the only one who wasn't going to cut him any slack, even if he turned in all the assignments he'd missed. It all hinged on this one test.” Jason shook his head. “Old man Meyers wasn't the sharpest pencil in the school drawer. He gave the same test every year. It never occurred to him that kids would figure that out.”

“So, you fed your brother the answers.”

Jason nodded. “I'd just graduated the year before, still had a folder full of tests and papers stuffed in my closet. We found the test and Joe wrote the answers on his leg. Meyers never got the connection between Joe's itchy leg and all those correct answers on the test.” Jason shrugged. “He aced the test and squeaked by with a D. Went to junior college and brought up his grades. Then he transferred to a four-year college and graduated cum laude.”

“The ends justify the means?”

“Only when you want to help somebody you care about,” Jason countered. “It was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. At the time though, it seemed like the right thing to do. Good thing our parents didn't find out,” he added. “I don't think they'd have agreed.”

“Probably not,” said Hope. “And I'm not sure that you can equate helping your brother cheat on a test with me helping my sister write some poems.”

“Did you help her or write them for her?” he countered, cocking an eyebrow.

Hope's cheeks began to sizzle. “She just didn't want you to think she was dumb.”

“I don't. She's pretty smart, really. She should have gone into advertising.”

“Where people lie for a living?” Hope translated.

“Where people are good at creating an illusion, so other people will buy what they're selling,” Jason amended.

“I guess we all do that,” Hope said, running a finger around the rim of her mug. “Men buy fancy cars they can't really afford and women wear makeup and buy push-up bras.”
Or get implants.

Jason hoisted his coffee mug in salute. “Well, then, here's to false advertising.”

Which was what she was doing right now. She was out with this man, pretending they could advance from a truce to a relationship. They couldn't. At least not the kind he'd want. No man was ever going to see her naked.

Amber called out that their sandwiches were ready and Jason went to pick them up, but Hope no longer had much of an appetite.

“Speaking of advertising,” he said as he set her plate in front of her.

Let's not, she thought.

“You don't advertise at all. What's with that?”

She shrugged.

“Many a flower is born to blush unseen?”

“And waste its sweetness on the desert air,” she finished. “I'd forgotten that poem.”

“Me, too, until just now.” He studied her. “So, is that you?”

She shook her head, trying to ignore the sudden heat in her cheeks. “I don't think my life is wasted.”

“Maybe not so much wasted as not finished,” he suggested. He pointed at her with his coffee mug. “You seem to spend a lot of time worrying about other people. What about you?”

“I'm fine. I'm happy just the way I am.”

He let the subject drop with a nod and a bite of his sandwich.

After that, they stuck to small talk, chatting about great places to hike in the area, favorite food, and favorite books. And that was fine, until Jason said, “You know, my folks would love you. You're the real deal,” and she knew it was time to end lunch.

She pushed her chair back. “I've got to get . . .”
Away
. “Back to work.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

“You know, I'm running out of people to buy flowers for,” he said as they walked back to the shop.

“You'll have to switch to chocolates.”

“So, I'm thinking maybe you should just go out with me this weekend. Not dancing,” he quickly added.

“Bobbi's the dancer, not me.” There had been no need to tell him that, really. They weren't going to go out. “I'm busy,” she added. She had to garden sit for Millie.

“Your sister could watch the shop on Saturday,” he suggested. “We could go for a hike.”

“Thanks, but no. I think we're better off not starting anything.”

“I wasn't asking you to marry me.”

“I know.”

“I just thought you might like to hang out,” he persisted.

Men weren't into being friends. They always wanted to be friends with benefits. “I don't think that would be a good idea.” Before he could press her further, she added, “I don't have time in my life for someone.”

He frowned, but he said, “Okay.”

Good. That settled it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

J
ASON DIDN
'
T SEEM
to get the concept of taking no for an answer. He came into the shop every day that week, each time with some new flimsy excuse that led to him hanging around to talk. The company's bookkeeper was having a bad day and needed flowers so she could get payroll done. He wanted to buy some of those red daisies to plant at his duplex. He'd killed the daisies— overnight—and needed more.

“You can't afford this,” Hope informed him as he set an iced coffee on the counter for her. If only Bobbi hadn't gone to lunch with Duke, then she could have hidden in the back room and let her sister shoo him away. It was a very interesting coincidence that Jason had taken to waiting until she was alone in the shop and couldn't escape his visits.

“I think I can manage an iced coffee.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “All these flowers?”

“So I like flowers,” he countered. “Anyway, how do you know what I can afford?”

“I'm psychic.”

“You're confusing. Were we connecting when we went out to lunch or not?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I told you . . .”

“Bullshit. What you told me was bullshit. Why don't you want to go out with me? Give me one good reason.”

“My reason is none of your business, okay?” Her unhappiness made her voice sharp.

He stood there for a moment, frowning. Then he shook his head and said, “I don't get you.”

“You're right, you don't,” she said. And he never would because she couldn't bring herself to share the intimate details that made up this new and far from improved Hope Walker. So, she stood there silently, sending off enough chilly vibes to turn him into a snowman.

He threw up his hands. “Okay, if that's the way you want it, I give up.”

Still, she didn't say anything.

Instead, she watched him leave, tears in her eyes. All the flowers seemed to wilt. Even Audrey looked droopy. “Hey, guys, I'm sorry,” she said after the door closed after him. “It was for his own good.” Then she went into the back room and had herself a big pity party.

Which she was enjoying immensely until Bobbi crashed it. “What's wrong?” she cried, rushing to Hope's side.