Page 47 of Because of Her

“You have to find me a date.”

She holds her hand over my mouth so I can’t ask questions.

CASSIDY

Manning the shop has never felt so lonely. It’s late afternoon, and although I had some customers early in the morning, they’ve become few and far between since lunch. In between fixing together the few bouquets and posies, I’ve been pushing around the low tables, rearranging the space to find where a coffee cart would fit.

My cheeks still hurt from how wide my grin was last night when Amira told me she was interested. When I woke up this morning, she was already working on her laptop, looking at how to register our kitchen to make the sweet treats we could sell. We’d need one certification for home, and one for here in the shop. But it feels worth it.

I haven’t been this excited about my business since I first opened.

Since today was so quiet, I contemplate staying open later to see if I can catch some commuters on their way home. Despite becoming the winery’s florist, it hasn’t been easy to secure events. I had to cut my sister’s hours even more and reduce my fresh flower deliveries. I’m not even paying myself a proper wage anymore, only pulling out just enough to pay my share of rent to Amira.

I’m tired, and all I want to do is curl up on the couch under my grandma’s blanket and read my book. But I need to scrape together as much spare change as possible to invest in the coffee cart. I can’t wait for yesterday’s content creation to bring in a hoard of customers.

The bell by the door chimes and I force a smile before I greet the customer.

Seeing who walked in, it immediately drops off my face.

Callum stands in the entry, admiring the space.

I don’t know how to act around him anymore. Part of me aches to leap into his arms, but an even bigger part wants to run and hide in the office. I still remember the first time he was here, helping me unload the boxes for the green wall. The way he was so proud of me had swirled something in my core. It was embarrassing, having to tell him how my business was struggling. Especially considering he is so … wealthy. I’ll never get over the fact he owns the entire building we live in and drives a Mercedes.

All of that sits on top of the memory of sitting on his lap. Of how our bodies rocked in time, if only for a short moment. My core aches, wanting more. Always.

Heat swirls inside me as I force the memory from my mind.

“Is this from the boxes?” Callumstridesinto the space. He moves as though he owns this building, as well. His confidence is sexy, without being overbearing, doing nothing to help cool the fire burning through me.

I nod, meekly, fearing what will come out of my mouth if I attempt words.

“It’s incredible,” he mutters, before turning to me. “Rogue, you’re incredible.”

I can’t help but smile at his words.

“I’d still be transporting boxes if it wasn’t for your help.”

“True.” He laughs, the low rumble filling the room.

Leaning against the counter, I can’t help but wonder why he is here. His dark slacks and white shirt imply he has been working, but it’s too early in the afternoon for him to be finished for the day.

“Do you … need flowers?”

There is a thickness in the air between us.

Although I should have been expecting it, the admission in his nod hits me with a force I was not ready for.Who does he need flowers for?

Typically, there are very few reasons men buy flowers. Anniversaries, apologies, occasionally a first date. Usually almost always for their wives or girlfriends.

My face must twist into an unnatural expression because he raises an eyebrow in my direction.

“Roses,” he states, and my heart drops to my knees. On the very rare occasion a man buys flowers for someone other than his partner, they are never roses.

Roses are the flower of love, everyone knows that. The men buying them know that, the women receiving them know that, and I especially know that.

I hold in a cough as I push off the counter.

“What colour?”

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