Saving a Legend(4)
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“Will you just trust me? Rory comes here every Sunday and gets Ma flowers.” Kane sighed, opening the flower shop door and ushering Kieran inside.
“So what, I’m just supposed to copy him? How’s that help me?”
“I don’t know, call it sucking up, apologizing, playing nice. Any of the above. Pick one. It can’t hurt, right?”
“Whatever.” Kieran shrugged.
“Go ask the lady at the counter for a bouquet. I’m going to hit the head.” Kane headed toward a door to the side with a restroom sign hanging over it, but pointed Kieran toward the back of the shop, where a young woman sat in front of a cash register thumbing through a catalog.
Kieran sighed. “Seriously? You can’t wait ’til we get to Ma’s?”
“Just go get the damn flowers.”
Kieran rolled his eyes at his brother’s retreating figure, then sauntered toward the counter. The young woman glanced up before closing her catalog. Her eyes widened as he moved toward her and she straightened her stance, tension visible in her long limbs.
“Hi, may I help you?” She forced a nervous smile, her light blue eyes making him pause. She was absolutely stunning, but in a muted way, as if she was trying to hide it from the world. Or as if she didn’t know she was beautiful. Whatever it was, he was having trouble taking his eyes off her.
“I need a bouquet,” he announced, forcing himself not to reach out and run his fingers through her long brown hair, which fell in thick waves just past her shoulders. Because that wouldn’t be creepy or anything, he thought, and wondered if two years in prison could have stunted his game.
“Sure, a bouquet of what?”
“Flowers.”
Kieran wanted to grab the word as soon as it left his mouth, realizing how juvenile he sounded. His game was definitely lacking. The young woman stifled a smirk, her body visibly relaxing and her lips twitching.
She cleared her throat, peering at him with kindness. “All right, well, who would it be for? Maybe that can help us narrow down our choices.”
“It’s for my mother.”
“Do you know what her favorite flower is?”
He shook his head, trying to think of the last time he had seen his mother with flowers. In truth, he hadn’t purchased flowers for his mother since her birthday the year before he went to prison. He didn’t think she was the stereotypical roses type of woman, but he wasn’t sure.
“No, I can’t remember. I’ve been, uh, gone for a while. Just got back.”
“Welcome back, uh—” She paused, raising one brow.
“Kieran. Thanks.”
“I’m Fiona.”
“As in ‘Fiona’s Flowers’? This is your shop? Wow, that’s impressive. You don’t look old enough to have your own business.”
She walked out from around the counter and toward a refrigerated section. “And you look too old not to know your mother’s favorite flower.”
“Ah, Fiona: 1, Kieran: 0.” He followed her to the glass doors that separated a wide selection of floral bouquets.
“What about one of these? Think she might like this?” Fiona slid open the large refrigerator door and touched some pink flowers he didn’t recognize. “This has always been one of my favorites, ever since my mother first taught me about flowers.”
“If you like it, I’ll take it.” He agreed without hesitation, unable to keep his eyes from roaming the length of her perfectly curved yet long body.
Fiona nodded and removed the vase from the shelf of the refrigerated case, slid the door closed, then carried the vase over to the counter. She pulled some clear cellophane from under the counter and began wrapping the arrangement, taking care not to crush any of the blooms. Next, she brought out some ribbon and tied it around the vase, finishing it with a small bow.
“Beautiful,” Kieran said, complimenting more than just her work as he pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“Forty-nine, ninety-nine.”
“Fifty bucks? Do these flowers also come with dinner and a movie?” he asked.
She blushed and dropped her eyes to the counter, not saying anything. Shit. Not two days out of the joint, and he was already offending people. “I’m kidding, Fiona.” He handed her a few bills. “Unless you’d be interested in that?”
“In what?” She took the money from him and opened the cash register to put it away.
“In dinner and a movie. With me.”
She looked up at him suddenly, wide-eyed, her lips parting slightly. Her cheeks blushed crimson, and that only made him like her more. She screamed innocence and purity, when he was the opposite. “I, um, sorry. I don’t date.”