Page 33 of Wallflower in Bloom

Aaron grabbed her shoulders. “Violet. Do not let me down. Go enjoy that absolute 10 of a man. I mean, did you see those biceps? And those triceps? And the shoulders.” Aaron fanned himself. “Try to enjoy the ride. Life is a lot better outside of your comfort zone.” Aaron squeezed her shoulders before letting go.

“We are miles away from my comfort zone. His agent used the phrase ‘makeover.’”

Aaron gasped. “Let me come. I’ll finally live out my fantasy of tearing through your closet and replacing it with clothes that’ll show off the snatched waist you hide.”

Violet was a healthy size 18; nothing was snatched, nor little, about any part of her. There never had been.

She liked her body. It was the world that had a problem with it.

Her strong arms and back meant she could carry huge bags of mulch, but they made clothes shopping nearly impossible. Finding shirts that fit both her smaller waist and large arms and then throw in her huge boobs?

Literally impossible.

She’d rarely found a pair of pants that could accommodate her meaty thighs, curvy butt, hips with extra to grab, and waist that didn’t match. She hated getting dressed every morning, so she opted for oversized clothes. It was one less thing to think about.

“I’ll do your make-up,” Lily offered.

“This could be a good thing, Vi,” Rose said with a hopeful smile.

Violet eventually extricated herself from the conversation and hopped in her car. She had to drive. Had to think without considering whether to disappoint three of the most important people in her life.

A few hours later, Violet wandered through the back of her property in the dark purple light of evening.

Her great-great-grandparents had built her cottage in the 1800s, and she’d grown up running through the orchard her grandparents had planted. She loved the deep, invisible roots that tied her to each plant and stone on the small property. She belonged here in a way she’d never belonged anywhere else.

Her hands absent-mindedly skimmed the leaves of the small apple and pear trees as she wandered through them. This has been a heck of a day. She stretched out her tired muscles and finally let her mind revisit the kiss.

Jack Grant kissed her.

Not a peck, not a smooch. An honest-to-god soul-melting kiss.

She’d go to her deathbed thinking about what he tasted like. What his hand felt like against her face, the stomach-flipping growl he emitted when they let themselves get carried away.

Goosebumps trailed down her arms and her back as she remembered what his hands had felt like. Could she stand a whole summer of hot kisses that meant nothing?

There are worse ways to be tortured.

She stopped at the bank of her pond and listened to the bullfrogs croak in the evening air.

Aaron’s words floated back to her from earlier. Life is a lot better outside your comfort zone.

Kissing Jack wasn’t on the same continent as her comfort zone, and that had been flipping mind-blowing.

All that, plus a makeover. That one word dug a pit of dread in Violet’s stomach.

Though Shay was her size, and she looked effortlessly chic, owning all of her curves. Maybe if Shay did the makeover, she wouldn’t look ridiculous. Violet could figure out how to dress her curves like she’d dreamed of and mimic Shay’s confidence.

She thought back to her dad’s letter she’d received after he died. She’d read it a few months ago, and the words hadn’t stopped echoing in her head. You have great potential to help others, he’d said, as if she hadn’t already reached it even though she volunteered constantly.

Maybe this was how she could level up. Be a braver, bolder version she’d dreamed of being.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered into the darkness of the pond.

Be brave, Violet. Be bold.

“I’ll do it!” she roared, stamping her bare foot into the pond bank, feeling the mud squish under her toes.

“Do what?” a voice called behind her. She screamed and turned around, terrified in the dark.

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