Page 16 of Living for Truth
The dining room has dark hardwood floors, bright floral wallpaper, and mismatched multi-colored tables, giving it an eclectic feel. Some of the chairs are velvet, others are colorfully painted wood, and the tables are all different shapes. Pretty much every table is full of patrons enjoying various brunch foods, and my mouth waters as I see the options I’ll get to choose from.
Greta leads me to a table in the back corner, where the man from the flower shop is sitting. I jolt, wondering if this is some weird setup from Morgan. Or maybe Morgan’s just in the bathroom and forgot to tell me her brother was coming?
Either way, I’m flustered and confused, and I’m sure my face is as red as an apple.
His skin is a caramel beige, like he spends a lot of time in the sun, but it also looks like it could be his natural skin shade.
He’sbuff.His blue button-up shirt is stretched tight across his broad shoulders and snug against his bulging biceps. They don’t look like the muscles I see on gym bros in pictures, but you can tell he works out.
Flower Guy looks confused but also a little pleased, as he stands—good Lord, he’s tall—and pulls out my chair. Greta leaves us with menus and a chipper, “Enjoy your meal!”
I sit, he sits, neither of us look at the menus in front of us.We stare at each other in awkward silence.
“I can’t believe—”
“What’s going—”
We both speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly. He runs a hand through his sandy brown hair. It’s longer on the top and faded on the sides, but he doesn’t have the top gelled to perfection, just kind of tousled and half-styled, but it works somehow. His beard is neatly trimmed and pairs nicely with his haircut.
“You go ahead.” His voice is deep and kind, but there’s a hint of authority there, too, that threatens to send a shiver down my spine. His moss-green eyes hold an intensity that’s both hard to look at and hard to look away from.
I clear my throat. “I’m confused about what you’re doing here. I thought I was meeting Morgan.”
His brows furrow. “IamMorgan.”
“Pardon?” That can’t be true.
“I own Fowler’s Flowers. I’m who you’ve been texting for two weeks.” He grabs his phone and shows me our text thread.
“But I thought Morgan was a woman...” I feel really, really stupid right now. How did I not know?
Morgan smirks. “I am most definitelynota woman. But I can see how things might have been a tinge confusing. I never explicitly said I was a man, and me being bi probably didn’t clarify things.”
“I’m so embarrassed. I should go—” I grab my purse and go to stand, but I’m stopped by one of Morgan’s large hands gently settling on mine.
“Please.” His eyes are pleading. “Please stay. I was going to say earlier how it must be fate the cute girl from Friday is actually you.”
I slowly lower back into my chair and place my purse at my feet. “What do you mean?”
Morgan scrubs a hand down his face, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Youare the customer whose number I wanted to get. I’ve felt a little silly for having a crush on a girl I’ve never met,anda girl whose name I didn’t know. It’s a one in a million chance you’re the same person.”
“You’re being serious?”
“Deadly, Hannah,” he says with such conviction I have no choice but to believe him.
“I just—but you—look at you!” I blurt just as the waiter comes over.
He gives us a tentative smile. “Howdy. I’m Cody, and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you out with something to drink?”
I quickly glance at the drink menu and order a vanilla oat milk latte. I don’t drink coffee regularly, too scared my mom will find out. Morgan orders a caramel latte and some mini Dutch baby pancakes for a starter. I hope he plans to share.
“What were you saying before we were interrupted?” Morgan turns his piercing gaze on me.
“I was just pointing out it’s weird someone as handsome as you is interested in someone like me. I don’t get it.”
Morgan’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. I’ve always been blunt. There’s no point in beating around the bush with certain things—this in particular. It’s unlikely a man who looks like Morgan—all tanned skin, gorgeous eyes, blinding smile, muscles for days, and friendly as hell—would be interested in a plus-size divorcee who spends most of her time with books and still lives with her parents.
I continue, “My divorce was only finalized three months ago, and although I’ve been forced into dating again by my mother, I don’t know if I’m ready to have something serious. My heart’s still tattered to bits and trusting someone with it isn’t easy for me.”
