Page 29 of Accidentally in Bloom

“Business is good.” Gray shrugged noncommittally. The less he told his dad, the better. George Roberts liked to have his finger in every pot, and if Gray told him too much, he’d meddle.

Gray grabbed a glass from the cabinet and kissed his mom on the cheek.

“Fixing your favorite, sweetie.” She absentmindedly poked the pan.

“Thanks, Mom.” She’d held their family together after Gray had almost gotten kicked out of high school after he’d been caught selling drugs. When Gray had tried to get sober, his mom had always been there. He never wanted to let her down again.

“No big partnerships or expansions recently?” His father sent Gray a questioning look, his bushy eyebrows dancing like caterpillars.

A tickle started on the back of Gray’s neck. He knew something. What was he playing at?

“I might expand into Frank’s old greenhouse.”

His dad let out a snort but said nothing.

“And my crops are coming in well,” Gray baited him. He could never wait to tell Gray how he’d interfered.

“No meeting with a regional distributor?” His dad tapped his fingers on the side of his highball.

Gray drank his iced tea and tried not to choke from the ball of anger that lodged in his throat. “How do you know about that?”

“Bill’s an old friend. Thought you’d want the introduction so you can get your little flowers to a few more places.”

“That was you?” Gray didn’t need handouts, especially from a meddling father. Shame ghosted behind that anger. He’d been so proud when Bailey’s had reached out. Felt like he’d started to see some traction, that it was because his trial with one of their stores last year had done so well, not because of a fucking handout from his pompous father.

“Just trying to help. I don’t want to see you make another mistake like last year. No more lavender, right?” His father sent him a friendly shrug and chuckle.

Gray sent him a death glare. “Don’t meddle with my farm.”

“What meddling? I told my golf buddy my son could use some help.”

“Help?” Fuck. Now Bailey’s would think he was a risky partner. “I’m doing fine without any help.” Gray thought back to all the “help” his dad had given him when he kicked him out of the house in high school. When he’d stopped talking to him for months because Gray had made him look bad during a re-election year.

“Gray,” his mother warned. “We’re just trying to support you. Sit down, plates on the table.”

His dad chuckled as he downed the rest of his whiskey. “Don’t want to have to bail you out again.”

Heat crawled up Gray’s collar, and he remembered why he only came here once a month. “That was twenty fucking years ago.”

“Language,” his mother chastised.

Gray sat on the edge of his seat, unsure if he could make any headway in the meal in front of them. His stomach turned with anger.

His dad stabbed at the pork chop in front of him. “I’m just saying, son, everybody could use some help. We’re trying to support your little dream. You know, most farms fail, and maybe now yours won’t.”

“Little dream?” Gray sat back. He crossed his arms to give himself a barrier of protection. “I own ten acres of land. I have an employee—”

“Part-time.” His dad huffed out a laugh.

“You want to know why I spent so much time with Frank?”

“Because he was a useless busybody?” His dad shoveled peas into his mouth as he spoke.

Gray leaned into the table, pointing at his father. “Because he believed in me. He believed that everybody was allowed to make mistakes.”

“Probably why he died so young.” His dad laughed at his own joke as he took another big bite.

Gray scooted his chair back and grabbed his keys. “Bye, Mom.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “We’re done.”

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