Page 44 of Coming Up Roses

His touch on my hand is electric, but the sparks tingling up my arm snap me out of my stupor.

“Right, well we’ve got a bunch of flowers to deal with,”I say, clearing my throat and smoothing my hands down my front. I try to ignore the way Flynn tracks the movement, his eyes lingering on my hips, but my heart rate picks up just a little.

I cannot be so affected by this guy. Sure he’s a lot of fun and pretty to look at, he has sinful hands and a mouth he knows how to use, but that doesn’t mean my body should be reacting to him like this. I have got to focus.

I pick up a pair of shears, ready to show Flynn how to prepare the flowers so we can create the table centrepieces that were supposed to come fully formed, not as a collection of parts.

“Shall we start with a playlist?” he says, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and interrupting my train of thought. “As beautiful as your rendition of ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ was, I think we can do better.”

My face flames. I can’t believe he heard me singing earlier. Absolutely mortifying.

Flynn smirks at me, and even though it’s at my expense, it’s a much better look on him than that sombre, slightly lost expression he was wearing a moment ago.

“Songs about roses,” he mutters as he taps away at his screen, then he looks back at me. “What’ve you got?”

“What do you mean?” I’m supposed to be showing him what to do, but now I’m not quite sure what we’re talking about.

“Songs about roses. Give me your picks. There’s obviously Poison, and that Outkast one. Oh, definitely need some Guns N Roses.” He taps away, and I realise he’s actually making us a playlist of songs about roses. “What else?”

“That Miley Cyrus one. I know it isn’t roses, but…”

“Love it. Yes. Added. What else?”

My mind blanks. Like goes utterly vacant. “I have no idea,” I admit.

He frowns down at his screen, looking a little like a petulant child who isn’t getting what he wants, especially with his windblown curls falling in his face. “This is a very sad playlist,” he says.

I hate the almost defeat in his voice. Like he’s about to give up on this ridiculous playlist idea. For some reason I can’t stomach the thought of that, so I grab my phone and search for songs about roses.

The look on his face when I start throwing in contributions makes this completely pointless exercise worth it. His eyes sparkle as he looks at me, the disappointed twist of his lips curving into a brilliant smile as he realises I’ve committed to the game.

“Okay,” he says after I’ve shot a bunch of songs at him from a very helpful webpage. “That should be enough. I haven’t even heard of most of these. They better be good.”

“Can we get to work now?” I ask, trying to hide how much I actually enjoyed creating a stupid playlist. It was fun. That inane process of suggesting songs to Flynn to make a playlist we don’t need filled me with a weird fizzy feeling. I’m not used to it. I’m so used to being serious all the damn time. And Flynn’s right. I don’t always have to be in control of every little thing.

“Sure can,” he says, his smile bright and I have to look away, reminding myself of the piles of roses we have to deal with, before I get trapped in his magnetic pull again.

I also remind myself of the dozens of reasons Flynn isoff limits, including me not having time or space for a man in my life. Just this job and Sadie. Sadie needs to be my focus.

And the biggest reason, is that Flynn has already said no. I’m okay with that. I just wish he hadn’t.

I pick up another rose and show Flynn what to do with it. He listens with rapt attention and while I thought for a moment he wouldn’t take this seriously and would be more of a hindrance than a help, he seems determined to get it right, taking extreme care when cutting stems and stripping leaves.

I watch him for a moment as he gets settled into the task to ensure he’s doing it correctly and when I’m sure he is, I let my eyes linger on his hands. Big, strong, calloused and capable. Hands that set my body on fire.

Apparently it doesn’t matter how much I tell myself I can’t look at Flynn likethat, my brain doesn’t listen, because all I want is for Flynn to be handling me the same way he’s handling these flowers.

23

FLYNN

WatchingAbi work is a turn on I wasn’t expecting. Everything about her is a turn on, but I wasn’t expecting watching her work to be this much of one.

She’s so confident in what she’s doing, so in control. Like she knows exactly what she’s trying to achieve and more importantly, knows exactly how to get there.

She showed me how to prepare the flowers—trimming the stems, removing the leaves—then started arranging them into a collection of short, square vases.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her hands while she was demonstrating what she wants me to do and when I picked up the shears and my first rose, I desperately wanted her to do that cringey movie thing where she takes my hands in hers to help me get it right.

---