Page 37 of The Longshot

Dumbstruck?

Confused?

Intrigued.

“Wondering why you’re here.” I fiddle with my hands, having a difficult time maintaining a consistent level of eye contact with him. “That’s all.”

Ruby jumps back in, flashing me a curious stare. “You know, I was wondering the same thing. I didn’t know you had made a friend, Chelsie.” She folds her arms—impressed. “Especially not with the star of Crawfield.”

Gary smirks, egotistically brushing off the compliment with a wave of his hand.

I’m not so easily convinced.

I can tell that he’s used to this kind of response from people, not just that, but that he enjoys it. I’m confident he likes living in the spotlight, whereas I find my comfort as far away from it as possible.

“You’re too kind, Ruby,” Gary proclaims, his charm dialed up to a nine. “Really.”

Of course, he’s already on a first-name basis with my sister. Lord knows how long they’ve been out here talking without my knowledge.

“You know, you both should come to a game sometime,” he offers. “I’d love to get you guys tickets. I’ll even make sure you have the best seats in the?—”

“That’s okay,” I cut his overly generous proposition short. “We’re not interested.”

“Chelsie!” Ruby scolds me, whipping her head in my direction. “Speak for yourself.”

“What?” I shrug. “You’re mistaken, Ruby. Gary and I are not friends,” I tell her. “Besides…” I’m back to looking at Gary with my arms crossed. “I have no idea why you’d want to see me again.” I hone in on the shocked look on his face. “Was I not clear the last time we spoke? I’m not interested.”

Told you I’m not shy.

The room goes silent.

It’s so awkward. Thank gosh no one else is inside the bakery right now because if they were, they’d be getting a whole lot more than just a sweet treat from the display.

“You know what?” Ruby is the first one to speak up. “I’m going to finish up those biscuits I asked you to make earlier. Give you two some uh—space.” Ruby flashes me a look that reads be nice as she grazes past my arm and makes a beeline back into the kitchen.

Internally, I roll my eyes, yet despite my previous confidence, I can’t help but feel a tension in my chest as I fight the urge to look back at him.

The task is so hard it’s painful. He makes it impossible to hold out, and after another few seconds, I fall victim to the temptation. Thank God I do because the second I look back up, that's when I see it.

What was once hidden from my view is now held out in front of his chest, with a tender and apologetic smile on his face: Gary Wilkinson with a bouquet of flowers.

It takes me a moment to process the gesture until Gary motions the bouquet in my direction. “I came by to see you because I wanted to give you these,” he reveals, a slight huskiness in his voice, masking this underlying sense of anxiety I can see riding all over his face.

“Seriously?” I narrow in my confused stare—remorse coursing through my body at the thoughtful intention behind his visit. “You got these for me?”

Nervously, he nods, prompting me to accept the flowers from his grasp and tuck them into my embrace.

“Yeah,” he admits, a faint smile finding its way back onto his round lips. “At first, I thought maybe roses would be the way to go, but if there’s anything I’ve come to learn about you, Chelsie Windsor…” He takes a careful step forward. “It’s that my typical way of doing things doesn’t seem to be your cup of tea. So…” He teasingly bites down on his lower lip as he carries on. “I thought daisies would be the way to go. At least, that’s what Green’s Mum told me.”

I purse my lips together to suppress a smile, one he takes no notice of as he continues to ramble.

“Green’s my best mate on Crawfield,” he informs me. “He was one of the guys from the other day. Not the one catcalling, of course…” I can see him starting to get all flustered, his sentences now turning short and choppy. “I wouldn’t have allowed that. But his family owns a floral shop up the road. Maybe you’ve heard of them? Seen them? They’re called?—”

“Do you always ramble like this when you’re nervous, Gary?” I save him from his spiel, peering up from the bouquet after I’ve taken a deep breath of its fragrant scent, appreciative of his flower choice.

I’ve always loved daisies since I first discovered them growing alongside the field of my parents' property. Since then, they’ve somehow found a special place in my heart.

I told Simon that shortly after we started dating, hoping that it would serve as a subtle cue for any future dates or romantic gestures.

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