Delilah's Tears

Chapter Two

Delilah

The bell over the door tinkles. As much as I love my shop and my job, this week has been insane, and I want nothing more than to lock the damned door and head out for drinks at Kokomo with my best friend Meghan. I even dismissed Tami and Matt early, because things had finally slowed down. I normally close at four on Saturdays, and typically don't lock the door a minute early, but this afternoon I had planned to steal an extra ten minutes. Apparently, not today.

"Be right there." I poke another daisy in the last arrangement I've been working on, and place it in the cooler before going up front. "Sorry to keep you waiting..." I nearly swallow my tongue when I see the man leaning against my front counter. He's tall, with dirty blond hair shaped into a trendy style, a pair of crystal blue eyes like swimming pools, and the makings of a sexy grin I'm sure I won't forget about for the next week. Holy shit, the guy in the suit is hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. "I...uh, what can I do for you?"

"Flowers."

"Well, uh, good. I have those." Suddenly it's very warm in here. Very.

His smile deepens and I'm being pulled across the counter by those eyes that won't let go, as if there's an unforeseen connection shrinking the distance between us. Jesus, I hope so. "Wonderful. Do you have anything pre-made, or do you do to-order only?"

I don't want to talk to this man. I just want to stare at him until the sun goes down and the shop is so dark I can't see anymore, searing his image into my brain. "I have a few things pre-made. For drop-ins. Like yourself."

Then it hits me. He's buying flowers on a Saturday afternoon. In my book that equals one of two things. Girlfriend or wife. I can't stop my gaze from dropping to his left hand. Nope, no ring. Of course, that doesn't mean anything. I clear my throat and silently slap myself out of my eye-candy induced stupor.

"What kind of flowers does your girlfriend like?" Way to snoop. Not obvious at all. Nope. Such an idiot. A stray strand of hair chooses this moment to slip over my face, forcing me to push it back and remember what a mess I am.

"Not for me. I mean, a woman. Well, it is for a woman, not mine though." He leans further over the counter, close enough for me to detect a hint of an expensive, spicy cologne that smells like heaven. Oh, God, it's so, so good. Cinnabon's got nothing on this. Dropping my gaze, I grab a pad and glance down to write the order and avoid staring at him. On the way down, I take note of the tailored, no doubt expensive navy suit he's wearing with a light blue shirt, open at the collar. One hand is tucked casually in a trouser pocket, which pulls the jacket away from his torso, offering me a great view of what's surely a God's body underneath.

"Not your woman. Got it. What would you like, then?"

"Well, I came in to pick up Ryan's order for him, but what I need now is a date with you. Preferably more than one. Preferably starting with tonight."

My head shoots up taking in the multiple bits of info he slung at me. I force myself to ignore the part about a date and focus on the flowers. Not an easy task. I'd prefer to leap over the counter and drag him out, and go—pretty much anywhere he wants to. "An order? You asked about pre-mades."

"Yeah, I did. I was stalling. Ryan Melendez ordered an arrangement for his mom's birthday. He couldn't get here before you closed. I was nearby. So, lucky me, here I am."

I nod. "Melendez. Right." Blinking a few times, I spin and go out back to the cooler. The cooler. Yeah, I need to cool off in the worst way. The door clicks shut behind me and I take the opportunity to lean against it and catch my breath. That man. That freaking gorgeous man out there wants to take me on a date? Nah. He's only flirting. Like half the men who come in here. All good-looking, macho, almost celebrities who believe every woman is ready to drop their panties then and there for them. Then they sail out of here chuckling at the silly flower girl who made goo-goo eyes. I made that mistake a few times when I first opened the shop. No more. Except tonight. What the hell makes this any different? Grr, a ridiculous notion.