Page 23 of Flash

I bark out a laugh. “Alright, I’ll go. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Lewis.” I sit up and take his chin in one hand, leaning down for a slightly harder kiss before standing up and gathering my clothes.

I’m not sure, but while I zip up my jeans, I’m pretty sure Lewis whispers, “I hope not.”

Chapter 8

LEWIS

“I just can’t figure him out.” I sigh, my hands working on muscle memory to tie a bow around the bouquet in my hand. Rowan and I have a nice system going where he gathers the flowers I need, and I make sure they’re exactly the way I like, then tie the expensive silk ribbon around them. Who the hell has a dozen bridesmaids all with their own bouquet is beyond me, but whatever, it’s their wedding and I’ll happily take the money.

“Because the sex is good?” Rowan clarifies in his most pointedly bland tone, the one he’s perfected after many years of indirectly calling me out on my bullshit.

I huff and carefully fiddle with the next arrangement. “No, spectacular sex I can understand.” God, spectacular is an understatement. The memory of his intense, claiming kiss while he fucked me within an inch of my life fills my mind for the millionth time in the past few days and my cock starts to swell immediately. I shake my head sharply.

“Yeah, so walk me through the issue again,” Row says.

I set the bouquet down and run my teeth along my bottom lip while I try to think of a way to explain it that won’t sound insane. Of course, this is Row, and no matter how I try to frame it, he’s going to see all the festering insecurity beneath my excuses anyway.

“He’s too amazing. He has to be a serial killer. It’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes any sense to me.” I drum my fingers on the counter. “He let me blather on about plants, so far he hasn’t played any mind games at all, and after the best sex of my entire life, I pretty much kicked him out and he just smiled and kissed me.”

I set the bouquet aside, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I recount the details to Rowan for the third time this morning. I spent the first few days after our last hookup picking it all apart in my head, looking for a moment that I might have ignored at the time, some sign that Arrow is full of shit, and came up with nothing. By the look on my best friend’s face, I don’t think he’s about to help me dig up any of the skeletons in Arrow’s closet either.

“Hmm, yup, sounds like a sociopath,” he says.

“You’re no help,” I grumble. My spool of ribbon is almost empty, so I stoop to open the cabinet under the counter and pull out the bin to find more of the right shade. Instead of ribbon though, the first thing I see when I open it is a small pink rubber duckie. “That’s weird.” I pull it out and set it on the counter.

“Where did that come from?” he asks.

I shrug, digging through the bin until I find the ribbon I need, then pushing it back inside and standing up. “No clue. Maybe a little kid tossed it in there when I left it open on the counter at some point.”

“It’s kind of cute.” He picks it up and sets it on top of the cash register, then hands me the next bouquet.

I take it and start to carefully arrange each flower. “Maybe I’m overthinking things.”

He snorts. “You?”

I roll my eyes and flip my middle finger at him. “No, seriously though. This is meant to be casual, which means the whole point is that I don’t really get to know him and there’s no opportunity for him to play stupid games or fuck me around.”

“Uh-huh,” Rowan murmurs.

“So, he probably has plenty of flaws I’m just not seeing. And it doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to know who he is behind those brooding silver eyes. Knowing what he does for work or how he spends his free time isn’t going to make the sex any hotter, and that’s all that matters right now.” I frown, babbling more to myself than to my best friend as I fiddle with the next bow, untying and retying it a few times until it’s just right.

“If you say so,” he says, handing me the next bouquet.

“I do.” I inject an air of finality into my voice that doesn’t quite manage to settle in my chest.

I reach for my scissors so I can cut the next length of ribbon, but in the mess on the counter, I can’t find them. Luckily, I keep multiple spares. I pull open the drawer to look for another pair, frowning when I look down.

I pull out a blue and green duck and set it on top of the register right next to the pink one.

“This is bizarre, right?” I ask.

Rowan is the one who shrugs this time. “Like you said, maybe a kid did it. It’s not like either of us stand behind the counter at all times.”

“Yeah, good point.”

I find a spare pair of scissors and cut the ribbon I need, then keep on moving to the next bouquet, letting my mind wander while Rowan sings along under his breath to the soft rock station I have playing through the speakers.

We finish the flowers for this wedding and the afternoon passes steadily, with customers coming in and out and orders to fill. Arrow stays on my mind though. I rambled at him about my interest in plants, what would he info dump on me if I gave him the chance?

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