I said, “Um. No, it's okay. Just a little sore.”
His arm fell, leaving me tingling where he'd touched. “It looks kind of red. Well, all of you looks red right now, actually.”
Coughing, I spun around and walked stiffly into the shop. “L—let's get going!” Fuck, I fell apart just then! But his caring vibes had been too much for me. Was he playing with me, pretending to be concerned?
The air was humid inside the store. Water spritzed from hanging pipes, plants glowing in bright greens, reds, and so much more. “Hello,” I said, spotting a woman behind a tiny counter. “I need to pick out flowers for... a wedding.”
Saying it out loud had me fidgeting.
“Ah,” she said, rounding the counter and approaching me. “Are you the lucky bride?”
Pursing my lips, I peeked at Abell. “Lucky isn't the right word.”
The clerk was oblivious to my sarcasm. “Well, look around and help yourself. You'll find we have flowers perfect for any event.”
I wondered what kind of flowers you picked for an arranged marriage.
Something morbid, I thought with a smile. Did they have black roses? I'd have to look.
Abell, who'd been rather quiet, reached out to cradle a hanging vine. “I didn't realize we were picking flowers for our wedding.”
“My mother insisted I get it done quickly,” I mumbled. “Apparently, a month to get ready isn't much. Who would have thought.”
He grinned, fingering the long vine so it coiled around his hand. “Cheer up, how can picking out flowers be depressing?”
I gave him a flat look. “Flowers aren't my thing. Do you have some tricks to make it fun?”
“Oh, I have tricks.” He tugged the leaves, then stroked them obscenely. “I don't think the florist would appreciate me using them on you.”
I turned away before he could get a reaction out of me. “I'm ignoring that comment.” Unzipping my coat because of the humidity, I moved down an aisle. “Help me find something... weddingy, I guess. I could just pick white.”
Abell followed me, his hands spreading his jacket wide, flapping it. “White would be boring. You want something more vibrant, ideally to match the dresses of your bridesmaids.”
I stumbled, staring back at him. “First, I won't have any bridesmaids. Second, I didn't peg you for a guy who knew about complimentary colors.”
He placed his palm to his chest, making a face. “Art runs in my blood, give me some credit.”
“I met your father, I wouldn't call him 'artsy.'”
Abell's fingers clenched just slightly, but I caught it. “It's on my mother's side.”
The edges of his usual smile had cracked. Had I touched something sensitive? Eager to push this awkward tension away, I clapped my hands. “Alright, Art-Master, what flowers would look best?”
“For the wedding? Not a clue. But this...” Abell leaned close to a blue tulip, tapping it. “This would look gorgeous in your red hair. You have a fire in you, a cool color like this would enhance it.”
His comment lacked the crassness he'd been indulging in since we'd first met. Seeing him like that, bending close to a fragile flower, eyes warm and welcoming...
Why is my heart beating so fast?
He pulled on one of the most wolfish grins ever. Like an animal, he stalked forward, his hand dropping away from the tulip. He whispered, “There it is, in your eyes, the fire I was talking about.”
On reflex I stepped backwards, bumping the nearby table. The sound of water sloshing made us both stop in our tracks. In slow motion, I watched a bucket topple over the edge, right towards Abell.
He tried to jump back, but he wasn't ready; the water spilled across the front of his shirt. “Shit!” he shouted.
“Oh no!” Cringing, I let my hands bob in the air, too unsure what to do with them. “I'm so sorry! I didn't even see that bucket!”
He stretched his arms, pulling the soaked cloth across his chest. The water had turned his shirt transparent, dark ink and hard muscles peeking through. The perfection of his body among all the beautiful flowers was like some high-fashion modeling ad.
Catching my breath, I stared straight at his stomach, following the dip of his abdominals into the top of his jeans. The edge of his briefs were visible, tattoos vanishing beneath the elastic band.
I knew exactly what it looked like under there.
Why the hell did I want to see it again?
“Hey,” he chuckled. “My eyes are up here.”
Flushing, I looked around frantically for a towel. “Uh, let me find something to dry you off with.”
“It's fine. You didn't get my jacket, just the shirt.” He shrugged out of the jacket, then tugged the soaked shirt over his head, exposing his bare skin. Ever so casually, he nodded towards the front of the store. “I'll just zip it over me so I can walk out of here. Unless you prefer this look?”
I was gawking again, but I didn't need him to point it out. Stumbling on my tongue, I said, “Sure. I mean, um, your jacket. Right. It should be fine!” Get it together! But how could I? Abell was impossibly sexy, and he was within touching distance.
If I reached out, I could run my palm right down his chest. Would it be warm, or cool from the water?
He stepped close to me, and the floral cloud was broken by the pine and maple scent that came off of him. “Did you want something, Nix? Something from me?”
My heart floated up, filling my throat. “No,” I managed to croak. “Nothing.”
The corner of his mouth moved upwards. “The future owner of Halloway Inc shouldn't be such a liar. It's bad for business.” Abell's hand cupped my cheek, and where he touched, heat bloomed.
In my ears, the drums pounded. My cells were buzzing, my body eager to climb onto his. I wanted to rub against him, I knew he'd be hard and soft all at once.
Kiss him, my body demanded. It'd be so easy; he was right there, inches away, he...
“Excuse me!” The florist shouted, rounding the corner. “Why is he stripping?”
Retreating so fast I bumped the table again, I stared at the woman with my eyes bugging out. I knew I looked guilty—I felt guilty! What was I doing? What had I almost done?
My mouth fell open. “He isn't stripping!”
Abell grinned, reaching down to brush the button of his jeans. “I could, if you two want.”
I wished I could find a big crack in the ground and crawl into it. Maybe I'd grow back as a weed! Weeds couldn't be humiliated!
The florist crossed her arms, her face a puckered knot. “I think you should tell me what flowers you want. Then you should leave.”
“I'm so sorry,” I stammered, shooting a fierce glare at Abell. “I'll keep him on a leash next time.”
His smile went ear to ear, boyish and amused.
He's trying to be charming. Flicking my eyes up and down his exposed tattoos, I shivered as if I was the one covered in icy water. Fuck. He IS charming. Abell was inching his way past the barrier I'd set up in my heart.
And I hated it. All of it.
You should know better. Don't be so naive! I had to be strong, cold, disconnected.
Why did he have to make it so hard?
“Miss,” the florist snapped.
“Oh.” Startling, I scanned the rows of flowers all around us. “Right, sorry. The ones I want are...” Different petals flew through my vision; every shape, every color, for any occasion. I knew nothing about weddings, how did I narrow down my choices?
Something bright caught my eye.
That's it. That's the one.
Abell's words had influenced me. Last time that had happened, we'd nearly kissed in my kitchen. He's dangerous, I reminded myself. He's using you!
Even knowing all of that, my heart still went fuzzy when I heard Abell inhale sharply.
He'd realized which flower I was picking.
Reaching out, I brushed the shiny green stem. “Here,” I whispered. “This one.”