when we met. y/yellow.
I was about to turn the lock when I saw him through the glass door. He was at least six-foot-four, and he was dreamy. He had an almost apologetic look on his gorgeous face. He knew I was closing the shop, but I couldn’t refuse him. With a smile, I opened the door and let him in.
“I’m so sorry. I know you’re closing.”
“It’s okay. How can I help you?” I couldn’t imagine refusing him anything.
“I need flowers.” He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. It was endearing. “Of course I need flowers. I’m in a flower shop.”
I couldn’t hide my smile. He was flustered. And adorable (if a six-foot-four sexy-as-hell man can be adorable). “Are you looking for something specific?” I asked as I led him further into the shop.
“Her favorite color is yellow.” Her. Of course he had a wife. Or a girlfriend.
“I’ll be right back,” I said with a smile. I collected a lovely assortment of flowers—yellows and whites—and added a few greens. When I turned back to him, I caught him staring at me. “Is this okay?”
“Beautiful.” But when he spoke that word, he barely looked at the flowers. His eyes were on me. And he made me blush.
I walked over to the counter and wrapped the flowers. “I’m sure your wife will love them,” I said. Was I being a bit obvious? Maybe. Did I care? No.
“I’m not married.” He smiled. “They’re for my mother.”
Oh my god. Flowers for his mother. How sweet.
“Well, she’ll love them.” I smiled, too. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“I think so. What’s your favorite color?”
“Pink. Do you need more flowers?”
“I do. Pink ones.”
God, his smile made me weak. I nodded and pulled together more flowers, this time pink ones. When I returned to him, he looked at the flowers for a moment before lifting his eyes back to mine. “That’s perfect. Do you have a card I can write a note on?”
“Of course.” I handed him one. He took a pen from the counter and wrote on the card. He tucked it into the pink flowers.
After he paid me, he picked up both bouquets. He handed the pink one to me.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“No. Those are for you.”
“What?” I was confused. And blushing again. He only smiled. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”
Once he was gone, I looked into the bouquet of pink flowers and pulled out the card he had tucked into the bunch.
Your smile made my day.
Go on a date with me?
p.s. — I am really sad that this month is almost over. At least I have dozens (and dozens) (and dozens) of hot guy pictures in my “research” files now.
p.p.s. — Please pretend above hot guy is inside a flower shop. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a picture of a hot guy buying flowers in a flower shop? Very! I’ve been looking all month. (Poor, poor me.)
Hot guy: Spanish model Jon Kortajarena (psst—photo edited to make flowers pink) (psst—isn’t he gorgeous?)