Page 15 of Saffron and Secrets

“James, my boss. He buys his girlfriend flowers every week.”

“Oh.” I swoon, and add with a wide grin, “How sweet is that?”

“I don't know about sweet. Finding myself in a florist’s shop every week wasn't part of my job description. And now it seems I’m stuck doing it,” he grumbles with a shake of his head. “You should have seen his order the other week. It was the most ridiculous order of flowers. I was so itchy and my throat and eyes were so sore, I thought my face was gonna blow out.”

I giggle at him. He still seems so angry about it.

“I was having some friggin’ reaction. I told him if he was ever to buy them again, he can pick up his own flowers or I'm paying for delivery.”

I giggle more. “Why doesn't he pay for delivery?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes and air quotes to mock James. “He wants the personal touch.”

I bring my hands to my chest. “Oh my god, this guy is so sweet. I need to meet him.”

“He's taken, remember?” he says in a clipped tone.

Is that jealousy?

I wave my hands and try to explain. “Oh no, it's just, you know, guys like him are scarce. No men think of personal touches. It’s rare.”

He simply watches me, absorbing the words as I say them. His face is tight before he shivers and blurts out, “Oh, and last week, he ordered these obnoxious, tall ones. It was just ridiculous. Again, I told him if he ordered them again, I will not do his dirty work. He can deliver his own flowers. Speaking of last week, where were you?”

My heart swells, thinking he missed me…did he? Maybe I should play on this and lighten up the mood.

“Are you sure you’re not my stalker?” I narrow my eyes, trying to be serious for a second but failing and laughing at my own joke, and when he joins me, I laugh harder.

“No chance,” he says.

After we calm down from our fit, we sit there with stupid smiles on our face, looking at each other for a moment while we finish our drinks.

The waitress comes over and we squabble about who pays. He actually looks mortified by my suggesting it. I give up and say if that makes him happy, he can pay. So, he does.

When we leave, he walks me to Sally’s. Again, we're back in a comfortable silence. And my mind drifts to wanting to hold his hand, but I can't. We don’t have an excuse now like we did before, and I'm not making the first move.

After picking up our orders at Sally’s, he walks me to my car and says, “Goodbye. I'll see you next week.” As I sit down, he holds the door, pausing, and speaks again. “Oh, can I ask you a question?”

I lift my brow, wondering what he needs to ask me. “Yeah, what's up?”

“James gave me an investigator’s number. But I will not use it unless you allow me to. It's your choice, but I would like to see if there's anything strange going on and try to figure out who this person is.”

I blink rapidly in shock. Oh, this man. The fact he's thinking of me and willing to find an investigator—this is all so unexpected, but also sweet.

“Well, I can't see why not. And James sounds like a nice guy. So, I trust you and James to have a good investigator, and I can’t keep living my life in fear and holding around pepper spray and spraying people I like.” I tug my lip between my teeth as the last two words leave my lips.

I watch the moment it dawns on him. His expression darkens with fire, as the electricity bounces between us.

“You like me?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

I blush. “Yes.”

“I like you too,” he says, and I turn crimson.

I’m lost in the euphoria of him feeling the same about me. I miss half of what he says and only pick up the next piece.

“I need your last name. And I'll give it to the investigator today.”

I nod and give him my last name without hesitation. Knowing it’s getting looked into properly has the heaviness lift away from my shoulders. I just hope they discover who, and more importantly, why they are doing this.

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