Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
His pal is quick to get down to business. Glancing at a cheaper version of the watch James wears, he announces rather than asks, “I need a bunch of the best looking, most expensive flowers. And quickly, I’m already running late,” he clips, giving a little tilt of his head to see if James picks up on it.
But James, like me, isn’t paying much attention to his friend.
He meets my eyes with that same intense look. Moving his open hands, he ushers his friend forward so I can serve him first, showing me he is capable of acting sane. Proving in a second what I knew deep down.
He got crazy before because of Theo interrupting.
Maybe he was in a hurry or busy with an appointment, or maybe he just really didn’t like the guy.
And if he is in love? If he really has come back to buy flowers like his friend here? I want to know all about whomever they are for.
What does she have that I don’t? Though I could list a dozen things without having to think about them.
“Miss?” the big-headed guy clips again louder. He snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, and I feel James tense up all over again. Whatever he has going on, he keeps a lid on it this time.
I serve his friend. The choice is easy. Because he’s been so nice so far, I wrap a little tissue paper around one of the display vases and slide it across to him.
“Awesome!” the guy says. “How much?” he asks, yanking a thick billfold from his pants pocket.
“Three hundred dollars,” I somehow manage to tell him with a straight face, but his tiny eyes don’t even blink.
He slaps four on the counter and makes an anxious groan as he looks at his watch again. He spins to rush out, bumping straight into James, who hasn’t moved from the spot.
His lip curls with a stifled smile.
And me? I’m wondering what the hell I just did.
“I got to run, James. Leave ya here, that okay?” he puffs, trying to edge past the man.
“Sure,” James says without taking his eyes off me.
“I got something to pick up anyway… might be a while,” he adds, making me blush again, and I don’t even know why.
“Whoever she is,” his friend says before he goes, “she’s one lucky lady.” He studies the plastic flowers I’ve just sold him for more than the whole store’s worth, and he frowns.
But looking up with a smile after smelling them, he gives me fresh hope.
“James Jones here is the most eligible bachelor in the city! But I got to go.”
With a final pleading look up at James, who finally moves out of the doorway, he’s gone.
And it’s “take two, act one, scene one” all over again.
A re-shoot because… well… I don’t know who made it worse—James for acting psycho or me for telling him off.
Either way, James is single, and I’ve just made enough profit for the week!
Once we’re alone, and just before I have an attack of the guilts and want to chase his friend down to apologize and sell him a twenty-dollar bunch of roses, James’ deep, hearty laughter rings in my ears and vibrates through the whole store, passing through me like a bass bomb that tickles me just right in so many places, I have to let out a little squeak before I join him.
“I wouldn’t worry about overcharging him for plastic flowers,” James eventually says, reading my thoughts clearly, so easily.
“Larry can afford it. Trust me. He’ll add eight hundred to his client’s bill for the privilege.”
I make a puzzled face. James must think it’s about what happened earlier.
“Listen, Jasmine?” he says, stepping forward to the counter in one stride. All the laughter was gone from his face.
“Can we…? I mean… Can I…? he stammers. His eyes blaze for an instant as he wrestles with something inside himself, trying to get the words out.
“I’m sorry I acted like a dick before,” he finally says. “I just… I don’t know… I’d just like to buy some flowers, please,” he says in a theatrical tone.
He makes me giggle because it’s an impression he does so well of the guy who just left that I could swear it was him.
“But not the plastic kind,” he’s quick to add.
“And not four hundred dollars!” I gasp, not sure what I should do and less sure what made me do it in the first place.
I think the answer, the ultimate distraction in my life, is staring at me right across the counter. I’ve never felt so relieved to see anyone.
He came back, but he didn’t have to. He could’ve gone to any florist in town.
“So… just the flowers, then?” I hear myself ask, hoping it doesn’t carry the same sinking feeling I’m getting inside.
Maybe, like his friend, he might just need some flowers right now.