Page 11 of Spring Fling

Chapter Seven

Daisy

I locked the door to my room, my heart racing after seeing Hayden and Ariana arrive at the Inn together. That image—her arm looped through his, cameras flashing all around them—burned into my brain like I'd never be able to unsee it. I dropped onto the bed, trying to shake it off, but jealousy churned in my stomach like I'd swallowed acid.

Why should I even care? I came to Wintervale with one goal: to show off my designs, win that "Best in Bloom" prize, and finally prove to my family—and maybe to myself—that my love for flowers isn't just some silly hobby. Getting hung up on a guy was never part of the plan, especially not one who'd shared one amazing night with me before disappearing at sunrise. Yet here I was, stewing because he seemed perfectly happy with Ariana.

You broke things off with Grant specifically to avoid this kind of drama, I reminded myself.Focus on your business instead. But all the logic in the world couldn't ease the ache spreading through my chest.

I kicked off my shoes and paced around the small room, stopping at the window that overlooked the orchard. On anyother night, the peaceful view might have calmed me down. Now it just reminded me of what I'd been daydreaming about—walking among those trees with Hayden, listening to him geek out about pollination or soil nutrients with the same excitement I got when talking about flower arrangements. Nobody else had ever really gotten that side of me—how I saw the perfect marriage of art, color, science, and scent in what I did. My family was all about practicality: doctors, lawyers, people with "real careers." I was the oddball who insisted that bringing flowers into people's lives actually mattered. Pretty stupid to keep hoping someone would get it.

But Hayden had gotten it. Our hookup wasn't only about sex. We'd stayed up whispering about flower meanings and how they've carried secret messages for centuries. He'd told me about pollinator corridors and how everything in nature fits together perfectly. We connected over the idea that beauty matters most because it doesn't last forever—that it's special exactly because it's temporary. It felt like finding someone who actually liked the real me, not some version I was supposed to be. Then morning came, and we went our separate ways—using fake names to keep things casual. Neither of us thought we had room in our real lives for anything more than that night.

Now, watching him parade around with Ariana for the cameras—like they were this perfect celebrity couple—made my chest tighten painfully. Had that spark between us last year meant nothing?Get it together, Daisy.He had every right to date or flirt with whoever he wanted. I had no claim on him. I'd told myself I didn't want one. But tonight made that lie painfully obvious—seeing him with Ariana felt like someone had punched me right in the gut.

I dug through my suitcase for something to sleep in, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.Hewas never yours anyway.I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. My family had always treated my flower business like some quirky phase I'd eventually outgrow. Grant had called it my "cute little hobby." Over time, I'd become obsessed with proving them all wrong. But maybe I'd been looking at it all wrong—maybe I didn't need to prove anything to anyone. Maybe I just deserved to be happy. Like flowers—beautiful for a little while and valuable precisely because of that. Had Hayden seen that in me?

I let out a bitter laugh. If he had seen the real me, it clearly didn't matter much. Ariana was the famous "Floral Sweetheart," leaning against him while cameras flashed. My stomach twisted as I imagined them going back to her room together. Tears threatened, but I blinked them away.Stop feeling sorry for yourself.I changed into a tank top and sleep shorts, telling myself to get some rest before tomorrow's final festival day. The disaster with my ruined arrangement had already drained me emotionally. I needed to keep my head in the game for the competition.

The soft light from my bedside lamp stretched shadows across the flowered wallpaper, highlighting how cozy this Inn should have felt. But I couldn't find any comfort in it tonight. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, all I saw were tense shoulders and puffy eyes. I should sleep, but who was I kidding—there was no way I'd sleep well with all these thoughts spinning through my head. Still, I sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

A soft knock at my door made me freeze. My heart jumped. Maybe Rory with fresh towels? Or Cass with news about tomorrow? But something in my gut told me it wasn't either of them. I swallowed hard and walked to the door. Another lighttap, more hesitant this time. I turned the handle cautiously, bracing myself for whatever was on the other side.

It was Hayden. His hair was rumpled like he'd been running his fingers through it nervously, and his eyes showed a mix of regret and determination. My pulse raced, but I kept my face neutral, not wanting to show how much he affected me.

He let out a breath. "Daisy... I'm sorry to barge in. Can we talk for a minute? It's important."

My first instinct was to say a firmno thank youand slam the door, but something raw in his voice made me hesitate. "One minute," I agreed, stepping back. The tension between us was thick enough to cut as he walked in. I closed the door and crossed my arms over my chest. "I saw your fancy date with Ariana. Congrats on all the photo ops. You two make quite the power couple."

He winced, his forehead creasing. "That's exactly what I need to explain." He glanced at the lamp's soft glow, then back at me. "It's all fake, Daisy. The sponsor set the whole thing up. They're pushing this storyline about professional collaboration... with a romantic angle. They want me and Ariana to look like we're dating for publicity." His voice dropped lower. "I swear to you, none of it is real."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Could've fooled me. You looked pretty comfortable with her arm around you."

"No," he said, his voice cracking with urgency. "It's just an act. The sponsor pressured me. They dangled this contract extension for my next book if I played along. Apparently, Ariana's fame is valuable to them. I felt... cornered." He brought his hands together almost like he was begging. "I hate every second of it. This was never what I wanted."

I scrutinized him, maintaining my defensive posture while battling internal turbulence. "Am I expected to believe you were manipulated into accompanying her around town, engaging in affectionate displays? The charade appeared remarkably credible from my vantage point."

His gaze descended momentarily. "Ariana craves attention—and it’s quite clear she’ll do whatever those around her say will keep her in the spotlight. Artifice is her game, not mine. Believe me, I couldn’t have been more miserable throughout the entire evening tonight." A harsh exhalation escaped him. "Daisy, please understand—this scenario represents everything I abhor. Ariana holds zero personal interest for me."

Hope flickered treacherously in my chest, though I maintained outward skepticism. "What exactly motivates this confession? Conscience-clearing before returning to your sponsorship obligations?"

He winced. "No, I'm telling you the truth because you deserve to know what's really going on. I already told Ariana—and my publisher—that I'm out. I can't go along with this fake dating charade anymore. If I lose the book contract, so be it. There won't be any more photo ops tomorrow. I just can't stand the dishonesty." He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "I hate that you might think there's something real between me and Ariana. There never was, not for a second."

Something in his voice started to chip away at my defenses. "You had reasons last year for not wanting to stay in touch," I said carefully. "If our night together meant anything to you, why wait until we randomly ran into each other again?"

He sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair. "The book deadline was killing me at the time. Teaching full-time while trying to finish writing... I felt like I couldn't breathe, let alone start something new. And we had that wholeanonymous thing going, right? I told myself I was doing you a favor by not complicating your life. But I thought about you all year." His voice had a slight tremor. "Seeing you again brought it all rushing back. I realized how much I missed everything about you—the way you see the world, your amazing talent with flowers... just you, all of you."

My pulse quickened as conflicting feelings of anger and longing crashed together. "So you regret how we left things?"

He swallowed hard. "Completely. I'd change it in a heartbeat if I could. That's why I'm here now, taking a chance you might slam the door in my face. You deserve the truth, even if it's uncomfortable for me to admit." Another step brought him closer. His familiar scent surrounded me—woodsy cedar with hints of citrus. Memories of our night together came flooding back with dizzying intensity.

For a moment, my resolve faltered, tears threatening to spill. "Hayden, I'm scared to trust anyone. Letting my guard down just sets me up to get hurt." I could still hear my ex's dismissive comments echoing in my head. "I promised myself no more heartbreak."

His expression softened. "Daisy, if you want me to leave, I will. No questions asked. But please believe me—nothing you saw with Ariana was real. I have zero interest in playing celebrity couple for the cameras. But you... you're all I can think about." He reached out tentatively, brushing a strand of hair from my face with gentle fingers. "I've been thinking about you since I walked away last year, even though I was too stubborn and busy to do anything about it."

My breath caught as I felt the warmth of his hand against my cheek. The tension that had been building since we ran into each other finally ignited, turning into undeniable desire. "I want to believe you," I whispered. "Because honestly, I couldn'tforget you either. Seeing you with Ariana hurt more than I want to admit." My heart pounded in my ears.

He leaned closer, his eyes focused intently on mine. "Then let me fix this. No more pretending. I just want to be real with you." His hand settled on my waist, waiting to see if I'd pull away. Instead, I found myself drawn toward him, the longing I'd tried to ignore blooming again. His gaze dropped to my lips. "Daisy," he whispered, "I—"

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