14
Just the Truth
TESS
Two weeks flew by in a blur of flowers.
Bouquets and arrangements. Window installments. The greenhouse. Buckets and buckets of flowers in every color. I dreamed of the feel of stems in my hand, the scent so overwhelming, I could still smell it when I woke.
I wondered if it clung to me, just a part of who I was now. Never had I made so many arrangements, and as our crop thinned, I had to get creative, mixing flowers I wouldn’t normally consider together. We’d begun to supplement with deliveries from Long Island and Chelsea while our plants replenished. Mr. Bennet began looking for more vertical growing solutions with Marcus, and Kash had already started planting more bulbs.
Because if it was going to keep up like this, we’d need more plants, and maybe a few more florists.
After years of decline, it was maybe the best problem we’d ever had.
Just like another problem I had.
It wasn’t Luke’s good humor—his ability to make me stop, slow down, and laugh, even when I was beyond capacity, was nothing short of magic. And there was no problem with his attentiveness. He gave that in abundance along with a healthy helping of fun, excitement, and spontaneity.
The problem was that, for the last few weeks, I’d had a real hard time reminding myself of what Luke and I were and what we weren’t.
Spending every night with him didn’t help. Not all night—we were bound to the flower shop, since we both lived with our parents. Never before had it felt like an inconvenience. But now, I’d have killed for an actual bed, a shower, or I’d even settle for a door to lock. Of course, I told myself that was good. It kept some boundaries in place.
Because I was not allowed to fall for Luke Bennet. Not beyond his body and his company.
We were not a thing.
Luke didn’t do things.
It’s temporary, I reminded myself over and again.
It was a now thing, and I never looked beyond today. Not aloud anyway. I tried not to think about how I’d feel if he came in and ignored me, if it all of a sudden ended without warning. As much as I told myself it was fine, that what happened tomorrow wasn’t important, that I was living in the moment, there was no small amount of expectation that I would see him. He would be charming and gorgeous and would kiss me like I was the only woman on the planet. And then he would leave, I would go home, and we’d wake up to do it all over again.
But I wasn’t Luke’s girlfriend even if it did feel like we were dating. Not that we’d actually gone on a date. Or really been anywhere but our parents’ houses or here. In this shop. All day and every night. I’d come in on my days off. Luke had built me a small studio in the back for our Instagram, which he helped me shoot, citing his brief experience as a photographer’s assistant in LA as credentials. I’d posted the photo I’d taken of him in my room, and our account had blown up, so I’d taken to photographing him some, hauling things, making pieces for the installments, and more than a few times with flowers.
No lie—posting pictures of a hot guy with pretty flowers made for a whole lotta Instagram love.
When girls started coming into the shop looking for him, I tried to tell myself I didn’t want to drown them all in the farmhouse sink. Judy had placed an order a day for weeks, and Luke would send Jett every time. But that had nothing to do with me other than the fact that we were busy with work. Luke wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my anything.
Oh, the lies I told myself.
That night, we’d just locked up the shop, waving at passersby who had stopped to stare in the window with a gesture to the sign—New installment, 8a. Blanche’s donuts and coffee! And then we drew the elegant curtains we’d hung last week and started hauling supplies from the back.
Luke moved the last frames off the flat cart and stretched his back, arms over his head. His shirt crept up, showing a sliver of his abs. I knew every ridge of those abs so well, I could draw a map of them in the dark. My bottom lip made its way into my mouth as I watched him openly and without a stitch of shame. And why should I feel ashamed when Luke took every opportunity to grope, squeeze, caress, or put his lips on me?
Seriously, I had no idea how we hadn’t been found out yet. Not officially at least. I had a feeling all the Bennets knew—with the exception of the matriarch—though no one had uttered a word. Well, except Ivy, who waddled out with her hand on the small of her back.
She had plenty to say on the subject of my fling that was feeling less and less like a fling by the day.
“I’ll go grab the last load, if you want to get started breaking the installment down,” he said, watching me watch him with a sideways smile on his handsome face.
“All right,” I answered with a flush of my cheeks.
Ivy watched us a little too closely. “See ya tomorrow, Luke.”
“Don’t pop yet, Ivy. We’ve got too much work to do to lose you.”
She snorted a laugh. “It’ll be like the old days—I’ll just have the baby out in the greenhouse and finish picking flowers for the day.”
His face wrinkled up. “Please don’t do that either.”
Ivy laughed, shaking her head. “Bye, Luke,” she said pointedly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He put his hands up and headed back into the shop.
The second he was out of earshot, she made a wicked face at me. “Have fun with your boyfriend tonight.”
I scoffed. “God, you are the worst, you know that? He’s not made out of boyfriend material, Ivy. He’s made out of charm and impulsivity.”
She shrugged. “He’s had girls coming in here for weeks to throw themselves at him, and he hasn’t taken a single one out.”
“How do you know?” I deflected against the ache in my chest that he might have done just that without my knowledge. “Maybe he goes out after he leaves here.”
“And that would be just fine with you?”
I groaned. “You’re a broken record. Why can’t we talk about your uterus or something? Braxton Hicks contractions? Mucus plugs? I’d take mucus plugs over this.”
“I mean, if you really want to talk about my body fluids, I’m here for it. Just not as an avoidance tactic. You know,” she said, stepping closer and lowering her voice, “I heard him talking to Kash in the greenhouse yesterday about you, and it was all hearts and flowers.”
“Well, we do work in a flower shop.”
“He likes you, Tess,” she insisted.
“For now. For right now. I can’t expect anything else but that.”
She eyed me. “Tess, let me tell you something. Something straight from the mouth of your fling queen.” She paused. “Are you listening?”
I folded my arms, frowning at her. Because I was a hundred percent sure I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.
“I’m listening,” I assured her.
“Flings don’t happen every day for three weeks. Flings don’t spend every waking minute with each other. They don’t eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. Whatever this is, it is not a fling. Luke and I? We had a fling—it was never going anywhere, and neither of us wanted it to. He and I fooled around for ages, but never, not once, did he ever look at me like he looks at you. So I’d encourage you to think about that for a hot second and figure out what your next move is. Because if you aren’t interested in dating him, you’d better quit this. Now.”