Page 39 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

I didn’t sleep after I listened to her go into her apartment and flop onto the bed. Within minutes, soft snores rang out from her place to mine. I spent most of the night lying there considering how to move things forward with her. What’s really held me back all these years is both her friendship and Jasper’s. Hers because I didn’t want to fuck it up, and his because he’s protective of her, and I think part of him resents me being friends with anyone but him.

Now that I’m home, though, I don’t think losing her friendship is what would actually happen. Jasper’s another story, but he’s a grown-ass man, and he can deal. By the time the sun began to rise, I’d made my decision.

It’s time I’m forthright with her. There can’t be any wishy-washiness. Jasper’s gonna be a problem. She’s right that he’ll freak out—the last time he thought I was staring at her, we got into it, and he was mad for a while.

But at the end of the day, I’m banking on his love for her and long friendship with me to mean more than his upset at my romance with his baby sister.

The following morning, I rise early and head to Mince Fine Art and Flowers at the far north end of Main Street. When I appear in the doorway, Tissant, the pixie owner, smiles at me, her white wings fluttering at her back.

“Ah, Hadrian Alkazar, I wondered when I’d see you here.”

I grin. “Am I that transparent, or have you just been reading the Gulch Gossip?”

Her smile matches mine. “I’m observant.”

I shrug. “I need a floral arrangement that’ll be like Pine Gulch come to life, but with a splash of blue, dark blue if you have it.”

She snickers. “I don’t even need to guess who that might be for.”

I join her at the checkout counter, eyeing the far-left wall that’s covered floor to ceiling in beautiful blooms. Every other surface is covered in art of various sorts—paintings, rugs, tapestries, quilts. This shop’s probably overwhelming to some, but I love how creative it is.

Tissant writes down a few notes on a pad then glances up at me, lips pursed. “Will you be waiting for it, or shall I deliver it to you or somewhere else later?”

“I’ll wait,” I confirm.

She gestures at the door. “Why don’t you hop down to BrewHaHa and grab us both a latte, and I’ll have it done by the time you get back?”

I love the bossiness—it makes me feel like I belong—so I promise I will and head out the door back along Main. This early, it’s quiet, although a handful of monsters mill about in front of the Welcome Inn and outside of BrewHaHa. The sunflowers painted on the front of the building lend it a cozy warmth. One of the things I love most about Pine Gulch is the unique way we add beauty to town. Colorful murals, constant parties, the pumpkin maze behind the buildings.

A quarter hour later, I return to Mince with two lattes in hand. When I show back up, Tissant stands there with a stunning bouquet. Flowers drip down the sides and up over the top. It’s mostly rusts and golden shades reminiscent of the Montana landscape, but splashes of bright blue dot the arrangement.

“It’s perfect,” I breathe, setting both lattes down so I can fish for my wallet.

“Let me know how she likes it,” Tissant whispers.

I sign for the bouquet then retrieve it gently out of the holder it’s in, winking at the proprietress. “Just don’t tell Merit and Bryony who I bought this for, and I’ll owe you extra.”

She rolls pale blue eyes. “Those nosy biddies don’t come in here. There’s history there, if you can imagine.”

I tuck my wallet back into my pocket. Her gossip isn’t something I need to get into, although I bet she’d tell me if I asked. Instead, I thank her again and head for the door. It takes me just a minute to get halfway down Main Street to the Buxom Bodice. The building clatters her front siding at me in a welcoming way when I grab the gold door handle and pull it open.

Inside, I don’t immediately see Bluebell, even though a bell dinged to let her know someone was here. I’m assuming she’s working this morning, but I could be wrong. That won’t be go⁠—

“Hadrian! I didn’t expect to see you here.” She emerges from the storeroom in the back, a blush spreading across her pretty high cheekbones. Sliding both hands into her back pockets, she eyes the flowers. “Those are pretty.”

I pick my way across the store until I’m close enough to hand them to her. “They’re for you, Bluebell.”

Bright eyes flick up to me, her blush growing a darker red and traveling down her neck and across her chest.

“This might seem like too much too soon, but I mean to pursue you,” I say. “We’ve been dancing around this for a week, and I don’t like the idea that it’s not clear to you what I’m trying to do. So this is me telling you I’m interested in more. That I’ve always been interested in more and always worried I’d fuck up our friendship if I made a move. I don’t think that’s what would actually happen though, do you?”

Her mouth drops open, but she quickly zips it shut as she takes the flowers. “Let me just put these in some water,” she murmurs, turning from me and heading back into the storeroom.

She’s skittish, and I understand it. She probably feels like a lot is riding on the line if we try to date, and it doesn’t work out.

“Bluebell,” I call out as I follow her into the storeroom.

She grabs a vase from a table in the back and unwraps the flowers, sticking them in the tall glass vessel. That done, she rejoins me and looks up, cradling the flowers against her chest.