Page 51 of Accidentally in Bloom

“Well,” he crossed his arms, and a frown ghosted over his face. “You make it big with some agents and models by being a hotshot photog who thinks he’s God’s gift, and then party too hard for too long. Hard enough to land in rehab, where they recommend changing your friends and scenery. I came back to lick my wounds and get my head on straight, away from LA.”

Rose bit her lower lip, uncomfortable at how real things had gotten. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“Converting the farm to florals gave me something to work on while I sorted myself out. I still have a few pigs from my grandparents’ farm. Turns out the secret to great flowers is pig manure.” He blushed and scratched the back of his neck, then opened the patio door to his deck.

Oh god, why was he being adorable? She was this close to asking him to be an asshole again. “I’ve never seen a pig up close. Do they have names?” They walked out onto the deck.

“Oh sure, Patsy Swine and Sir Francis Bacon. My grandma loved a pun. They are loyal members of the Roberts’ empire,” he said, laughing with her. “Want to see them?”

Rose’s face changed to one of trepidation. “I’m not dressed for a barn,” she pointed to her wedge heels.

Gray held a hand out to help her down the deck stairs to the grass. “C’mon, I can at least show you where they live.”

Rose looked at his outstretched hand. Nothing unprofessional about an offered hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her down the steps. At the bottom, his fingers interlaced through hers, and she felt her heart plummet into her stomach. It felt so much more intimate than either of their make-out sessions. So much more intentional.

She met his eyes with a question but noticed a car pulling into the driveway. “Expecting company?”

His face lit up with recognition as two tall, beautiful women and a little boy got out of the car and spoke in rapid French, one woman stretching, apparently arriving after a long car ride.

“Papa!” the little boy yelled, running toward Gray.

“C’est qui, ce p’tit bonhomme-là?” Gray yelled, crouching down with a giant surprised smile on his face.

Rose stared down in astonishment.

Gray was a dad? Who spoke French?

Am I having a stroke right now?

Gray enveloped the little boy in a giant bear hug, swinging him in a circle. One of the women slowly walked up the drive to meet them.

“I missed you!” Gray planted noisy kisses on his cheeks, causing a raucous round of giggling. “Salut, ça va?” he yelled and waved to the woman walking up.

“Papa, c’est qui ça?”

“In English, Alex.” Gray smiled, looking at the boy.

The small boy drew his brows together in concentration, making his face a carbon copy of Gray’s.

“Who?” Alex said finally, pointing to Rose.

“This is my friend Rose. Rose, this is Alex, my son, and his mom Giselle.” He gestured with his head toward the six-foot tan goddess standing before Rose.

“Bonjour. Nice to meet you,” she said in a husky, delicate French accent, her hand extended.

Rose felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on her. How had Gray not mentioned any of this? He was so intertwined with her life, business, and even her father. She was apparently just an afterthought in his life if he hadn’t decided to mention any of this.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too,” Rose said hesitantly, trying to get her bearings. She took the woman’s delicate, golden hand with designer jewelry on it.

“Giselle, this is Rose, who I told you about.”

Giselle’s face brightened. “Ah. So you’re the one who has stolen our Gray’s heart.”

“G, I told you—” Gray shot her a warning look.

Giselle smiled warmly. “I’m only teasing, but it has been ages since he told us about someone special.” She gave Rose a conspiratorial wink.

Someone special. Is that what she was to Gray? Rose saw the second woman open the back door slowly, looking green.

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