Page 48 of Raising the Sun

“Then, on your marks…” He delayed for dramatic effect. “Get set…” The sudden silence in the marquee was deafening. “Go!”

I fumbled with my chicken wire and moss ring at first, the klaxon making my fingers shake. But after a deep breath and a shoulder squeeze from Ash, I managed to tune out the surrounding buzz.

My attention narrowed to my hands as they went through the motions I’d done a hundred times before. Wreaths had always been popular, even when my shop wasn’t, and they were one of my favourite arrangements to make. They could be simple or showy, bright or muted, and with the Christmas theme, I was excited to assemble the vision in my mind.

Ash did whatever was instructed of him, be it cutting stalks or weaving Stewart tartan bows around sticks of cinnamon, and he did so without complaint. There was a brief incident when he flagged down my attention just to snicker and pointout that the anthuriums vaguely resembled an overly red cock and balls. But that aside, he was on his best behaviour.

An indulgent smile crept onto my face as I gauged my progress. Instead of using holly for the base like many of the other contestants, I sporadically placed branches of green kangaroo paw—a sculptural backdrop for the thistles and abracadabra roses I’d tucked in between. Already, I was proud of what I’d put together, and by the time the ninety minutes were up, I was damn near vibrating out of my skin with anticipation to show it off.

I was casually nestling a pinecone into the last gap when the klaxon sounded, signalling the end of the round.

“Drop your tools and step back from your workbenches,” the official instructed, and I did so, chewing my bottom lip as I studied my creation.

It was maximalist, for sure, but it was ‘Christmas,’ and with a quick scan around, I thought it was different enough to scrape through.Unless the judges have no taste, the voice in my head uttered, and it sounded too much like Ash for comfort.

I swore, he had better not be palming his arrogance off on me.

Or hiding his ability to communicate telepathically.

The judges took a leisurely lap of the tent, thoroughly assessing each contestant’s work before returning to select their favourites for the next round. They offered handshakes as a signal of your fate. If you received one, you were through. If you didn’t…

Well, it was home time.

It had to be amongst the best moments of my life when I was one of the first to be picked. The surge of confidence that burst in my belly had me expecting to look down and find myself hovering above the ground.

Ash was at my side, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and I couldn’t even find it in myself to roll my eyes. “Let me guess, youtold me so?”

“Mhm.” He huffed a cocky little laugh, and gave me a quick kiss on the temple. “I must admit, it is exhilarating being right all the time.”

Still soaring from the minor win, the next round seemed to go off without a hitch. I flitted around with a spring in my step, beaming like I owned the sun and positive that nothing could ever ruin my good mood.

Until it did.

The goal was a teardrop centrepiece. It wasn’t a new or innovative design, but after the extravagance of the first round, I thought it was best to dial it back and try something chic and elegant to show the range in my repertoire.

Probably would’ve been a brilliant idea had half the flowers I’d chosen not disintegrated in my hands as soon as I picked them up.

“What the hell—” I brought the bucket to my nose, blanching as the acrid scent of disinfectant hit me at force. “There’s bleach in the water.”

Ash’s gaze flamed before turning dark and murderous—thankfully with his back to the cameras. Under any other circumstances it would have turned me on seeing him so riled up on my behalf, ready to bring hell down upon whoever was responsible, but I was too ruffled for that right now.

“Someone has sabotaged you?”

That had been my initial thought as well, but then the events of the morning played out in my head, and realisation dawned.

Scrubbing a hand across my face, I sighed. “No, I… I mustn’t have screwed the cap on the bottle properly. There was a fucking wet patch in the boot of my car, but I thought it was water. I didn’t think to check if anything had leaked into the buckets.”

“Put them back, and I’ll fix it,” Ash offered, implying magic with a flex of his fingers. I shook my head, eyeing the camera that was pointed directly at my station, helpfully capturing the entire disaster as it unfolded.

“It’s too risky,” I said. “I’ll just have to use something else. What white flowers are left?”

Ash cringed. “Calla lilies.”

Fuck.

There was simple, and then there was using lilies for a fuckingweddingarrangement, but I had no choice. It was those or nothing, and even if part of me was chanting to throw in the towel now, I refused to give up.

“They’ll do.” I scrabbled for my shears and began snipping off stalks.

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