Page 1 of Grumpy Girl and Amaryllis

Mari

I huffas another precious plant falls off the wagon carrying an assortment of plants. This time though, I’m not at my shop,Dirty Hoes Plants & Décor. Usually I have many items bogging down the wagon and keeping it solidly on four wheels.

“Not today,” I sigh. “Because I’m being the good mom.” Even if some people disagree with that status.

Bending over, I pick up the sad heartleaf philodendron and scoop up the soil that came out as best as possible, leaving only a few flecks.

I whisper to the plant. “Sorry, philodendron Hederaceum. You’re my favorite, but don’t tell the others, I’m afraid they won’t believe you.” My plants are my life partners, and now that I think that statement, I probably sound quite lost in my mind by talking to them.

Irritation floods my body, but I compress my grumpiness, like always. The two cups of coffee this morning haven’t ever cured me of the annoyance of singlehood and it’s not helping me handle the fact that I’m going to face thirty third graders and endure the heckling that comes along with that.

I stop my thinking process. Two years of therapy has had some lasting effects. My children arenotan inconvenience or chore. They are 100% my greatest joy. Doing this presentation at their school is an honor as their mother. At least I have something worthwhile to discuss, and that they want me here at all is a precious and cherished gift.

So what ifDirty Hoesare heading into the holiday season, and the store needs me there with how chaotic it can be. My kids are only children for so long.

“Do you need any help with that?” A deep husky voice hit my gut like a sledgehammer. A voice that has a sexy rumble to it. Lifting my gaze to the man approaching, I can’t help but appraise how his body matches his voice—and part of me rumble to life that haven’t in a very long time.

Heat rises to my cheeks as the blonde-hair, blue-eye Cali-surfer look is an intriguing sight in the middle of North Carolina—a ways from the beach.

The best part is he’s the polar opposite of my ex.

The toad of my past.

“Thank you. I’m supposed to do a speech here in just a few minutes and I’m running behind. Like always.” Though everything is corrected, I drop my gaze and work on reorganizing my wagon. My hands need something to do and a moment to calm myself before I make a complete fool in front of the handsome stranger.

Drooling and googly eyes are not attractive traits when meeting a stranger.

“Are you Mrs. Thomas?” he asks.

I cringe at my married name. Once my divorce was finalized, I couldn’t shed myself of that name fast enough.

“It’s Ms. Marcus now, but please call me Mari. My children are Iris and Ash Thomas.” Lifting my hand and wiggling my ring finger to demonstrate it’s empty. “Divorced.”

The man glances down at my finger, and his eyes brighten and he smiles this crooked and cocky smile. I startle at the unexpected transformation.

How weird is that? Do I have dirt on my face?

I stand and with my back turned I slap at my face like a madwoman before turning around and returning his smile.

His eyebrows rise, but he lifts his hand for a shake, I slip mine into the offering, and little zings shoot up my arm. Probably the dry air. We have to have humidifiers running around the clock right now.

He clears his throat and for the briefest of seconds, I wonder if he felt the same electric moment.

“I’m their teacher, Mr. Young, but you can call me Croix.”

Our hands hold a little longer than necessary, our eyes staying locked on each other’s.

What an interesting name…for an equally interesting man.

“You have great kids,” he offers as I drop his hand.

Not able to help myself, I beam. They are my biggest pride and joy.

“Thanks, Croix.” I can’t help but gush about them. “They really are, right?” They’re the one thing I’ve done right, beside starting the plant shop with my sister Cali, in my life—and a bigger joy.

But don’t tell my plants that.

He nods and smiles. “I haven’t met their father, Mr. Thomas, yet. We’ve exchanged emails a couple of times, but that’s all.”

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