Page 17 of A Heart in Bloom

Allen tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the antique oak counter he’d delivered days ago, confident it fit her vision of old-world charm. Silent and patient, he waited.

When she finally turned back, her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry. I know I scar—”

Before she could finish, Allen placed a finger gently under her chin, guiding her gaze to his. Blue eyes, filled with concern, met hers with unwavering intensity. “Never apologize to me for your feelings. Especially when you’re scared or overwhelmed. You’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t need or want an apology—I just want to understand so I can help.”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear with a tenderness that sent her heart reeling.

She pressed her palms against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to protest as he pulled her back into his arms. “No, don’t. If you keep holding me, I’ll just keep crying.”

“Then cry,” he said softly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. His arms wrapped around her, strong and solid, holding her together when she felt like she might fall apart. “If the tears keep falling, it just means they’ve been bottled up for too long.

A shaky laugh escaped her. “But I don’t even know why I’m crying this time. I think you’re being too nice, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“If kindness makes you cry, Cammie,” he murmured, his voice gentle but resolute, “then I hope you’re ready to cry a river because I have no intention of ever being anything else to you.”

Her heart twisted at his words. It wasn’t just his kindness—it was the way he meant every word, every touch. It was too much. He made her feel safe, but safe wasn’t what she needed. Safe led to complacency, to leaning on someone else. And she couldn’t afford to fall into that trap again.

But she didn’t pull away. Not yet. Instead, she let herself stay in his arms, just a moment longer, even as a quiet voice inside her warned that she couldn’t let this happen. Not with him.

Because if she opened her heart to Allen, if she believed in him and he let her down, it would shatter her completely.

Chapter Fifteen

After a few minutes of soaking in the warmth and comfort of his embrace, Cammie pulled away, attempting to compose herself once more.

“You’re going to think I’m a nut job when I tell you why I panicked,” she said, twisting the tissue in her hands.

Allen caught her gaze and held it steady. “What if I told you I panicked three years ago in a toy store, trying to buy my nephew a Transformer? A kid with a toy gun triggered me so badly that I ended up on the floor for thirty minutes until paramedics came to haul me away.”

Her eyes widened. “You have PTSD? That’s awful. I’m so sorry you’re dealing with that. Now my panic feels even more selfish,” she admitted, turning to put space between them, but Allen didn’t allow it, reaching out and gently turning her back.

“Not so fast. I told you—I need to see your lips when you talk to me. So, talk to me.”

The earnestness in his tone tugged at her heart. He cared. Really cared. And here she was, being a coward. She turned to the computer, woke up the screen, and pointed to the highlighted blocks on her calendar. Then, with a trembling hand, she gestured to the number at the top of the page. Orders: 375 stared back in bold print.

A smile lit Allen’s face. “That’s great! Isn’t it? Word must have gotten out about the new florist in town. I told you this shop would thrive!”

“Yeah, that number’s great—if I had a full staff,” she said tightly. “That’s February’s total—250 orders are for Valentine’s Day alone. I’d be thrilled with fifty to seventy-five, but 250? Even if I pulled three all-nighters, I couldn’t do it. The flowers would wilt before I finished, and I’d have to issue refunds.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a hand over her racing heart. “This will ruin my reputation. It’s a disaster.”

“Hey, no way. We’re not letting that happen,” Allen said, his voice firm. “Can you stop more orders from coming in?”

“Oh, gracious!” She turned back to the computer and clicked a few buttons. “Thank you for reminding me. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Good. Now, how would you normally tackle this? Start with the arrangements requested, estimate the flower count, and place your order?”

“Yes, but—how does that help?”

“Once we’ve got that step done, we’ll figure out what kind of help you need.” He ticked off names on his fingers. “We’vegot Gwen, Anika, Harper, Becky, Sarah, Ellen, and Natalie, plus me. I’m a quick study. And if we need more, there’s the entire Adler clan in Sweet Valley. Someone in these mountains knows flowers. Trust me.”

She bit her lip, still unconvinced. “But it’s not just the arrangements. My delivery radius was set to thirty miles in Glacier Ridge because orders were so sparse—it only covered one town and a stretch of sparsely populated mountain region. Here, I’m in the middle of three towns, and the demand has exploded. Even if I manage to make the arrangements, there’s no way I can get them all delivered. I’d need Santa and his magic sleigh.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them, and Allen brushed them away with his thumb. “If reindeer would really help, I’ve got a connection for those,” he teased. “But delivering them won’t be a problem. I can make runs in your van while you work on arrangements. My truck has a topper—I can fit at least fifty in the bed. We can find extra drivers. Logistics was my last job in the Army. If I can organize supplies for Rangers across the globe, I can help deliver two hundred flower arrangements. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice small.

“Really,” he said confidently. “Take it one step at a time. We’ll iron out a plan together. Does that sound doable?”

She nodded, her lips trembling. “Yeah. I can do that. Where should I start?”

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