Folding his arms over his chest, Perry leans against the nearest workbench. “Five years. My mom’s garden used to be here, but when she brought me on to assist her with Blooms & Baubles when I was twenty-four, it had been ages since she’d touched it. I asked if I could build a greenhouse in this spot instead.”
I bend over a particularly interesting-looking plant with long, spiky red-and-green leaves. “So how does one even become a florist? Besides inheriting the family business, I mean. Do they have floristry schools, or…？”
He chuckles. “They do. I got my associate degree in floral design before transferring to Bowling Green for a bachelor’s in ecology. Mom insisted on a four-year degree so I’d have options, even though I knew I wanted to follow in her footsteps,” he explains.
“Smart.” I run my finger along a white-and-purple orchid’s large leathery leaf. “Do you sell everything you grow in here?”
“Some I sell, some I keep. It’s part hobby, part business. One hundred percent labor of love.”
“You know, I’ve never met someone as passionate about anything as you are about flowers.”
“Too bad it hasn’t helped my love life,” he says with a sardonic smile.
“What do you mean? Why not?”
He hesitates, plucking at his collar. “Oh, well, when women hear what I do for a living, they usually assume I’m gay. Which is fine—it doesn’t bother me—but it does tend to make dating more difficult. Selling flowers isn’t the most stereotypically masculine profession, after all.”
Unbidden, my fingers ball into a fist. “Screw stereotypes,” I spit. “Any woman would be lucky to have you. You’re a talented, successful business owner, and you make the most beautiful flower arrangements I’ve ever seen. If someone can’t look beyond their own preconceptions to see what a catch you are, that’s their loss.”
A flush creeps up Perry’s neck and his shoulders go rigid. Turning, he studies the hibiscus behind him before pinching off a spent bloom. “Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.” Did my words strike a chord?
But when he turns around several heartbeats later, his posture is relaxed again, his typical, adorable smile in place. Lifting his eyebrows, he snaps his fingers. “Hey, I have an idea. Want me to show you the ropes? Give you a minilesson in flower arranging before Devin gets here? We still have at least twenty minutes to kill,” he says, checking the time on his phone.
My heart leaps. That actually sounds really fun. “Definitely.”
* * *
When we return to the back room, I set my bag and blazer on the counter while Perry paces around the worktable, excitement oozing from every pore. “Okay.” Clapping his hands once, he rubs his palms together. “First lesson: the key to an impactful arrangement is balance, but with an element of the unexpected.”
“Like eucalyptus for scent?”
“Precisely.”
I nod. “It’s the same in art. As an artist, you want balance in a composition, but also something that grabs the viewer’s attention. A unique detail or captivating approach that makes them linger.”
“Exactly. Why don’t you give it a shot?” Perry plucks a clear rectangular vase from one of the shelves and places it on the table in front of me.
“Really? Just… go?”
“You can pick from anything we have in stock.” He sweeps his arm toward the bins of flowers on the floor.
“How do I even start?”
“Start with how you’re feeling. Or how you want the bouquet’s recipient to feel. Pick a feeling, any feeling.”
Casting around, I settle on the first word that comes to mind. “Hope.”
He nods. “Okay. Now when you close your eyes and picture hope, what do you see?”
Licking my lips, I close my eyes. “Rain.”
“Rain… really?”
My head buzzes, and a scene forms in my mind. “Not gray, drizzly rain… The last raindrops at the very end of a storm. The way the ground smells fresh and alive. How the air is heavy with the promise of sunshine ahead because all the bad things have been washed away.”
I blink open my eyes. Perry’s staring at me, jaw slack. Embarrassment crawls up my throat. “I—”
“Yes. Boom. Perfect!” His lips split into a heart-melting grin. “Now, let your inspiration guide you.”
I don’t hesitate. I can see the colors in my mind, and I follow my gut. I select a variety of flowers in shades ranging from deep lavender to blush pink to coral, inserting them in the vase and adjusting as I go. Perry is quiet for the most part, offering advice when I ask for it. I change my mind several times, inserting a flower, removing it, putting it back in its bin only to pick another. After several attempts, I’m satisfied.