4. Chapter 4

C losing the app, I ran a hand through my lightly salted pepper hair. What was I doing? I didn't do stuff like this. But I couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop seeing the way he moved and the glow surrounding him on the dance floor at Carmen's wedding.

When I'd finally danced with her, I couldn't stop myself from asking about the person who had grabbed my attention. I had tried to seem as uninterested as possible, because I didn't need her or my mother getting excited about anything. There was nothing to be excited about. Zero, zilch, nada.

"Hey, Car?"

"Yes?" She tilted her head toward me, a gleam lighting her eyes. She looked beautiful, all lit from within. I almost didn't want to ask her and pull her out of her moment. Almost .

"That person with the dark pink hair that you were dancing with? Who was that?"

"Oh? You mean Marley. Why?"

Marley. Cute name for a cute person. I had to force myself not to react. "No reason. I just didn't recognize them. Are they Steve's family?"

I pulled her into a spin, hoping it would draw her attention away and would keep her from looking too deeply at my questioning. She spun back with a pop of laughter. As her hand returned to mine, she shook her head.

"No, he's not family. Marley was my florist."

Huh. Not what I was expecting. Certainly not by how excited Carmen had been to have him join her in a dance. "Your florist? Is that common practice to have your florist at your wedding?"

Carmen shrugged. "I don't know, probably not. But we've spent a lot of time together and he's become a friend. I wanted him here to celebrate. It's my wedding day, so I can do whatever I want."

Marley's name stayed on my tongue for the rest of the day, like the whiskey I'd held in my mouth. There was something about him I couldn't shake. So much so that I ended up texting my mother when I woke up the morning after the wedding to ask about the florist. She'd been all too happy to share the business's contact info after singing Marley's praises.

Bearclaw Blossoms . I'd found his website that allowed online orders and showed product photos as well as a schedule. He had shop hours but was closed twice a month on Saturdays when he would be at the Heartcraft Market. I had a vague memory of Carmen and Mom talking about the farmer's market in the background at a family get-together.

There was a link to his Instagram page and the profile picture showed his radiant smile. My aversion to social media didn't mean that I didn't have it, just that I didn't like using it. Not for personal or social stuff. But as Chief Marketing Officer, I needed to know the trends. While others scrolled to compare their lives to those who presented perfection, I scrolled for the ads. Using keywords that were relevant to the needs of our clients to see what was working and what wasn't.

I'd reluctantly set up a personal profile at the urging of my sister, who wanted to be able to check in with me, but I'd actually found it beneficial. It was easier for me to scope things out without getting bombarded by bots and spam trying to sell me things. That was my job. Not to slide into DM's and offer services for a price, but to catch attention and draw the customers in.

When I found Marley's account, it was somehow so happy and soothing, that I had to follow it. I slid down through the endless photos of flowers to catch sight of the ones that had him in them. When I found the one in front of the sunflower field, my breath caught in my throat. That image right there… wow ! Pure joy and sunshine. It might not have had the greatest photo quality, but holy shit , I would buy a bottle of sand in the middle of the desert if that was the image in the ad.

Needing to do something to get my mind off of it, off of him , I sat at my desk and put the finishing touches on a marketing plan for a prospective client. He owned a much smaller business than most of our clientele. I'd worked my ass off to grow our reputation and land whales that had propelled the company to become the renowned name it was and had secured my spot as CMO.

Working with the sole proprietor of a small craft business was a far cry from my typical acquisitions. He was the son of my mother's friend, and if I didn't tell her I would help, I would never hear the end of it.

If I had been a lawyer, it would be a pro bono case. That wasn't all bad; sometimes it was nice to help the little guy. It was where I had started out, and would be a good stretch of the marketing muscles, catering to local customers instead of a broader reach.

Kiss My Glass. I had to chuckle at the business name. It was certainly catchy, so that was already a good start. Having a memorable name could make a big difference, especially for a smaller business.

A memorable name like Bearclaw Blossoms. My fingers itched to open Instagram again and pull that photo up. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to check out a small-town, individual-owned business. Purely for research, nothing else.

Once I'd convinced myself of the justification, I opened the website, knowing his shop was closed today. Not that I had memorized his business hours, it was merely something I noticed. Browsing through the arrangements he had displayed online, I clicked on one before I could change my mind. It was the largest bouquet available for next-day delivery. A ‘ Summer Breeze Bouquet' with tones of peach, light blues, and whites in a square glass vase. It was generic enough not to have any kind of weird message behind it, I hoped.

Under special instructions for delivery, I typed, ‘ Request delivery by owner .' It wasn't unreasonable to want the assurance and care of the owner—in the name of research, naturally. When I received my order confirmation saying that my delivery would arrive between eleven and one, my belly did a weird swoop and I found myself filled with anxious energy—an energy that would not allow me to sit at my computer any longer.

Changing into gym shorts and putting my sneakers on, I stepped onto the treadmill that was set up in my guest bedroom. Well, it was more of a home gym. There was no bed in this room, as I never had guests. Not beyond the family I couldn't keep away if I tried. I started out slow, before increasing the speed and difficulty until there was no room for any anxiousness, or any thought at all, as it took my full concentration to keep from losing my footing and crashing into the wall behind me. Just the way I liked it. Only… when I stopped after hitting a solid seven miles and I could scarcely catch my breath, that swoopy feeling returned as I thought of the delivery that would be made tomorrow.

Which led to the only other thing I could do to purge myself of the weird energy forming under my skin. A hot shower and a good wank.

The next day at work, I was more than a little tense with anticipation. Needing something to focus on, I called a meeting with my marketing team, demanding updates about the perfume designs they had only received this morning—unless they happened to check their emails over the weekend like I did.

Rubbing my fingers on my temple, I was frustrated by how unprepared my team was, even if my expectations were slightly unreasonable. I kept glancing at my watch, wishing time would pass more quickly, while a part of me wondered if I should cancel the order and forget the whole thing.

"Sir?" My attention was too divided to catch the question as I stewed on my ridiculous plan, and checked my tablet in case the time was somehow different from my watch.

A tap on my shoulder had me snapping my head to the side, and I bit out. "What? "

Paul simply cocked a brow at me before indicating his eyes toward the other end of the table where Justin stood, as if waiting for a reply. Shit, did I miss something ?

"Can you repeat that?"

Justin adjusted his bow tie, "Uh, yes, Mr. Marten. I was just going over the demographics and click stats."

"Well, let's hear it, then," I said as I opened my tablet to look at the order confirmation once more.

My assistant leaned in close as the newest member of our marketing team rattled on. In truth, any other day, I would have easily absorbed all the info no matter what I was doing, but not today. No. Today, I had to go get myself all in a twist over something ridiculous. I would have been better off waiting until this account was done. Or never. Never worked, too.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked in a low whisper.

Through pressed lips, I growled back, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure you don't want to go get some fresh air or something?"

My head tilted toward him, and my eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You seem…tense. More so than usual. I'm not the only one who has noticed. Poor Justin over there is practically sweating through his shirt."

I pursed my lips, letting my gaze drift over to the man who looked like he was tugging his tie hard enough to leave a mark. "You know what? Maybe I do need some air. "

I cut Justin off before he could finish his presentation. It wouldn't have mattered if he kept going, anyway. At least not in the unfocused state I was in. "Let's continue this later, shall we?"

Confused looks flashed around the room before they collectively packed up and slid out of the conference room. Justin stopped, with misty eyes, looking like he wanted to ask me something. I should apologize, but I just didn't have it in me. Luckily, Paul interceded.

"Great work. Could you please email all your findings to Mr. Marten so he'll have them to refer to?"

His eyes flashed hopefully to mine, and the only response I could give him was a nod. But it seemed enough to alleviate some of the worry in him.

With the room emptied, Paul crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I repeated. It was my go-to noncommittal answer.

"Clearly. That was probably one of the worst meetings I've been in, and that includes the ones where we've lost clients. What's going on? Did something happen?"

Matching his stance, arms crossed, I said in a firm tone, "Nothing happened."

We were in a game of chicken. Who would back down first? But I won every blinking contest, every firm-gripped handshake, and every game of chicken. Don't look away, don't back down, and don't swerve. Paul sighed and loosened his posture.

"You know I'm only asking because I care, right?"

Momentarily pleased that I won the stand-off, I lowered my arms. "I know. It's nothing, really. I'm just feeling a little out of sorts this morning."

My watch buzzed with a notification. It was a text message that said my delivery had arrived. "Fuck! I gotta go."

Darting past Paul, I walked swiftly down the hall toward the front, suddenly regretting the fact that I'd picked the conference room furthest from reception. He followed behind me, stride for stride, but I didn't care. I got to the end of the hall that led to the lobby right as the elevator opened. A giant floral arrangement came through the opening with two legs beneath it.

My heart felt as if it would leap right out of my chest for how hard it was beating. I leaned against the doorframe and simply watched, waiting, anticipating, cursing myself for all this foolishness.

Paul stood beside me, watching. "Damn, that's a huge bouquet! Either someone is confessing their love or they done screwed up and are making a big apology."

"Oh. Is that what it reads as?" The flowers with legs moved toward the reception desk, where the flowers turned, angling sideways, so he could talk to the receptionist. Damn! He was still blocked from where I stood, which was probably a good thing. I could simply walk away and pretend as if it never happened. Or maybe it wasn't even him, anyway. How often did small business owners make their own deliveries? Surely he had better ways to use his time.

Except it was too late now, because the man turned enough that I could catch a glimpse of his magenta hair, fusing my feet to the floor. I was unable to move, to breathe, to do anything, but stay there, depending on the wall to keep me upright.

Francie, who had been running our front desk since the company started, was in her sixties and could often be found with lipstick on her teeth, let out a loud laugh. Marley handed the order to her, as if confirming what he said.

Even from across the room, I could practically see her jaw drop as her gaze slid over and caught mine. Francie straightened and signed the order slip, giving Marley a visitor sticker and pointing to me. I stood ramrod straight, before realizing she was pointing past me, not at me.

And he was walking—walking right toward me. I did nothing to move, feet still stitched into the carpet. When he drew close, he lowered the flowers enough for me to see the top of his eyes.

"Hi, how are you?" His voice had a sing-song quality that made me forget how to speak.

"We're good, thanks. Did you need any help?" Paul answered behind me. Thank God for Paul .

"Oh, thank you, that's so sweet of you, but I'm good. I just need to get this to the marketing and designs department, and the lovely Francie up front gave me very specific directions."

"I…I could take those for you." I did a mental air-punch at the victory of forming words. It wasn't poetic, but it was something.

Marley tilted his head to the side, trying to look at me, but luckily, the flowers blocked most of the view. "That's kind of you to offer, but I always like to make sure my orders get to the exact right person. Believe me when I tell you that trouble always follows when flowers end up in the wrong hands, and I'll have no part in that, thank you. But if you could maybe step aside, so I can get by without risking crushing you or the buds, that would be great!"

"Uh…sure." I forcefully peeled my feet from where they had been locked to step out into the lobby, Paul following, to allow room in the hallway for the gorgeous man and the flowers that were definitely bigger than they seemed to be online. Embarrassingly big. What the hell was I thinking ?

I felt Paul slip away from me, heading toward the front desk, but I stayed there watching Marley walk away like a total creeper. But then, I had essentially stalked him and had him show up at my work, so perhaps I had already crossed over into creeper territory. That ass, though . It was… hypnotic. Fortunately, he turned the corner, out of my sight, and I was able to break free from the hold he had on me.

Feeling the weight of the entire strange ordeal, I let my head fall against the wall, wishing the wallpaper would reach out and draw me into it, letting me disappear from this moment.

A throat cleared behind me, and I'd heard it enough to know it was my assistant. With my forehead still pressed into the wall, I grumbled, "What?"

"You ordered flowers for the crew?" I could just imagine that full brown eyebrow of his arched high as he held back the many questions he likely had.

"Yup."

"Okay. You've never done anything like that before."

"Nope." The wall was my new best friend. It felt better to not have to look anyone in the eye. I really hoped it was cleaned occasionally. Maybe I should have considered that before I tried to become one with the building. Straightening, I sneered at the millions of germs that likely coated the surface.

"Do you want to tell me what that's about?" Paul asked carefully.

With a heavy sigh, still not looking at him, I replied, "No. I really don't."

Paul clicked his tongue. "Alright. Do you need anything? "

An escape. To go back in time and step on a butterfly that would change the course of history. Sure, I might have ended up with a tail or five arms, but if it meant removing this whole moment from history, I could deal with extra appendages. Seeing as how I was entirely without the means to time travel, the best I could do was run away.

"Nope. I'm going to be in my office for the rest of the day, and I don't want to be disturbed. Anything important, email it to me."

I didn't wait for a response as I walked down the hallway, the same way that Marley had gone. The very same way that he was now returning. When he saw me, a wide smile stretched across his face. That smile was what had beckoned to me in the first place. That and the beautiful way he moved. And now it was directed at me. Fuck my life !

"Hi, this place seems great! You must love getting to work for such a kind boss. He seems so generous and thoughtful."

"He…does?"

Marley gave a half-shrug. "Well, I don't know him, but having flowers delivered to his team is a pretty good indication in my book."

Would he think differently if he knew how selfish the motivation was? I grimaced at the thought. Marley's smile faltered, ever so slightly, and he tilted his head, studying me.

"You look familiar. Do I know you?"

Surprise forced a cough out of me. Surprise and panic. "Um, no. Don't think so. Excuse me."

I darted past him, getting a whiff of the sweet floral aroma that surrounded him and clung to my nose, making me want to drag myself back and breathe him in. Instead, I kept going, not looking back despite everything in my body screaming at me to do just that. I didn't stop until I was safely inside my office. Locking the door, I leaned against it, blocking anyone from trying to enter. As if Marley would charge after me.

The only thing I was certain about was the fact that I had probably ruined any possible chances I had of meeting the radiant man in a natural way, because everything about what just happened was unnatural as fuck.

Closing the blinds to block out the rest of the office, I sunk into my desk chair and rested my head on my desk, prepared to sulk and hide until it was a reasonable time for me to leave. My watch buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed.

I let out a loud huff, wishing the world would just leave me alone in my humiliation. What was so urgent, and why were my notifications blowing up? I turned my wrist to see I had received several emails.

"Uuugh!" I groaned and sat up, moving my mouse to wake up my computer screen. Opening my emails, I saw a thread with several replies. ‘Reply All' was the bane of my existence. It helped at times when multiple people needed to be kept in the loop, but more often than not, it was used for well-wishes, congrats, and other non-business chatter. Only today's thread started as an all-caps, "THANK YOU , MR. MARTEN! "

When I clicked on the first email, a photo of the team standing around the bouquet appeared. Each person, no matter the gender, seemed to be genuinely happy. Just because of flowers? Each response to the original was more praise and gratitude, and I had to admit, it was nice to see.

I knew I could be hard on those that worked beneath me, but a ship needed a captain or it would go down in the storm. I got an occasional thanks, but nothing like this. I didn't hate it. Another set of emails started coming, only these included the stats and figures I'd needed from them in the last-minute meeting I'd called earlier.

They had been happy to get the flowers, and somehow it had worked to undo the tension that had been in the conference room. Tension, that, admittedly, was my fault. It was a pleasant turn of events. At least something good came out of my mortifying stalker-esque behavior.