Page 13 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

I’ll leave out the part about how handsome that guest was. Don’t need to spark their overprotectiveness. It would take away the focus of the story. The fun of it.

Moving to my front counter, I clutter it with an array of tools—scissors, floral tape, and a collection of vases in varying shapes and sizes. Checking my computer for new orders, my spirits brighten at the sight of two new ones.

I start with a burst of sunflowers, “Did I tell you the one of the crazy cat nearly knocking over an expensive painting?” their golden faces beaming at me as I add in afterthought, “If it weren’t bolted down, which it probably is,” and trim their stems at an angle, the sturdy, thick green stalks promising longevity with or without my green thumb. Flowers like these need little care, just a fresh cut and water now and then to keep them vibrant for a long period.

Arranging the plentiful stems in a rustic wooden crate rather than the usual clear glass vase I almost chose, I firmly fix them into a foam block I poked large enough holes into. Next I add delicate Lisianthus, their soft purple hues contrasting beautifully with the bright yellow. For a touch of elegance comes white roses and for graceful fragility, Queen Anne’s Lace. Adding and subtracting, my focus is steady as I achieve the right balance. Taking a final step back to inspect what I’ve made, my inhale comes easily as satisfaction takes hold. “What d’ya think, Ralphie?” I ask, glancing to where he’s lounging on the tiles, taking advantage of a lingering ray of sunlight. “I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment at this one, because these aren’t flowers I normally see together, but with the right balance…” I pause and adjust the angle on a sunflower and remove one of the roses, “…it has a dreamy impact.”

Next, I turn my attention to a more traditionally romantic creation, one that’s far more simple but ordered often. A glass vase waits patiently as I gather from my refrigerated room two dozen deep red roses, their velvety petals soft and sensuous. These also require their stems cut at an angle, and I carefully trim away the leaves from the lower half of the stems as they tend to wilt in water and contaminate it, shortening their flower’s life. “We can’t have that,” I whisper to myself.

I’m lost in my floral world in this way until I hear the familiar howl of the bell again. My heart skips a beat as I look up to find Tom striding in, wearing that lopsided smile I find so attractive. His brown hair is tousled, as usual. Body slender and toned muscles flexing as he walks.

Not meaning it to, an image of Caleb Astor III springs into my mind — his perfectly-fitted suit and coifed wavy hair, stubble sculpted in a way that can only be called purposeful. He was like a man you’d see walking off of a magazine cover.

Next to Caleb, Tom is almost the opposite in how he presents himself — effortlessly handsome.

“Hey Zoe,” he calls, voice warm and inviting. Zero guile. “Got any new deliveries before I head to my second job?”

“You’re right on time because I just finished two new orders,” I reply, trying to keep my tone casual despite my fluttering heart.

“Glad I dropped by! Mind if I wash my hands?”

He passes me for the sink and I inhale his scent, pine mixed with salt from working on a hot day. A zing hits my bloodstream, tummy clenching with a primal, feminine interest I didn’t expect. Blinking too much, I move a rose that doesn’t need to be moved, then another, disrupting the balance and hurrying to restore it as I hear the faucet turn off and his footsteps approaching behind me.

He steps close, towering over my right shoulder as he checks out the arrangements. “These are amazing.” His hand brushes my arm, as he reaches to point at the crated sunflower bouquet. “You amaze me.”

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, hoping he doesn’t see the goosebumps he inspired. “Thank you, Tom.” His hand brushes my arm again as he retracts it. I stutter, “I…I wanted to capture the grace of a summer’s day.” I gesture to the Lisianthus, whispering, “And these are my favorite flower. Don’t tell the others.”

“Your favorite, huh?” He leans forward to see them better, his pectoral muscle pressing against my shoulder blade as he inspects the delicate flowers. “You have such an eye for design and compatibility. It’s like they’re friends now. Like you can read the flowers’ minds.”

I look up to find his eyes sparkling as I whisper, “I can.”

Tom gives me his lopsided smile, “I believe it. You always impress me.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, and I catch my breath, hoping this is the moment he’ll ask me out.It feels like he will! Where did this crush come from? He’s been working for me for ten months. I wasn’t aware of how he makes my heart feel lighter when he’s around, until today, and now it’s pounding like it’s excited I finally caught on.

“I should get going. Get these deliveries out and get to my next gig. But hey, if you’re free later, there’s a new café that just opened down the street.”

I blink at him, “Yes?”

“You should check it out.”

That’s not an invitation.Youshould check it out? Notweshould. Orwould you like to go with me and check it out?

Alone, he’s implying, right?

Ugh.

Anticipation flickers as I remember what Lexi made me promise:Take a chance.

“Maybe I’ll see you there?” Inwardly I slap my own face. That wasn’t what I meant to say. I meant to directly invite him! Not run into him, having arrived separately, like it doesn’t matter and isn’t a date.

He glances to the flowers. “I won’t be there tonight.”

“This morning you said you were going tonight,” I remind him, feeling foolish now. “You’re not?”

“Can’t tonight. My sister’s in town. Just got the text that she drove in from North Carolina without a warning.” He lifts first the wooden crate, carefully. “I’m taking her out to dinner since I haven’t seen her in a few months.”

“Oh, of course.” I force a smile. “That sounds nice.”

Tom flicks a glance to me like his mind is racing, too. What he’s thinking, I have no idea. How I wish I did. He lifts the roses and walks backwards, biceps flexed as he carries my arrangements with skill. I see hesitation in his eyes. “You should definitely check it out, though! I’ll catch you later, Zoe.” And justlike that, he turns and walks out, the bell roaring its objection behind him.

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