Page 41 of Mr. Green (Mr. #2)

Lana

H e brought me to a meadow with freaking flowers everywhere. I knew this guy woke up to a flowery life. I have my mouth open and am gawking at my surroundings. The place is something out of a dream. A dream where pilgrims settled.

“This is a rose emporium,” Grant explains, “but it’s also where blue bonnets are. I wanted to take you. These are a big deal in Texas.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Come on. Let’s walk around.” He takes my hand and leads us through roses, archways, and a pond.

There’s a building on the premises that looks like it’s been here since the 1700’s.

The weather is perfect and the people are sweet.

Families pass by saying hello while a bunch of kids run around.

Older people mosey about and admire Mother Nature.

Where the hell am I? This doesn’t fit my thoughts of disbelief and sadness. It’s making me think of a future with Grant and our own little toddler moving about in the fresh air seeing birds and butterflies as they go. It’s scaring the fuck out of me.

I’m beginning to trust Grant. He’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted in front of me.

I could move forward with him, but is it that easy?

Just hang on to his hand and hope he never leaves?

I know he’s promised he’s not going anywhere.

I know he’s said he’s not like Ryan. But how can I be sure?

The biggest question going through my mind is, why would he want me?

He can have anyone. I want him to want me, but it feels like this is a dream and any moment I’m going to wake up and realize it was all fake. Him liking my glasses, him liking my body no matter what size it is, him liking to spend time with me. It’s all a lot to handle.

Grant shows me the blue bonnets. He asks someone to take a few pictures of us together in the remarkable field of flowers.

It’s an older gentleman with white hair in a button-down plaid shirt tucked into his light gray slacks.

A woman with short hair walks by and he accidently backs into her.

I look at his hand to see if he has a ring, but none exists.

The woman keeps turning and looking at him, trying to be discreet.

The man takes our pictures. One of them we pose, and the other one Grant kisses me. It’s not just any kiss. It’s the kiss saying “I want to be with you, hold you, and love you.”

I’m probably reading too much into it. A kiss doesn’t say things like that. A mouth does.

“Thank you, sir,” I tell the man as he hands back Grant’s phone. I nod my head over to the woman waiting around pretending to be interested in the flowers. “I think you have an admirer.”

He blushes. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You should talk to her. She’s been staring at you since you’ve been taking our picture. Might be worth a shot.” I shrug. Grant’s making me talk to strangers about their love life now. I want everyone to find someone to love since I’ve come to the land of flowers and butterflies.

“Well...it can’t hurt to say hi to a nice lady. The Lord always puts you in the right spot.” He winks.

Grant thanks the man. I let out a breath as the man goes up behind the woman and comments on the flower.

Grant takes my hand. “Look at you, Miss Matchmaker.”

I shrug and follow Grant through the motions. It’s nice to see a couple falling in love when I have someone around for once. At least I know it could be possible to find love when I’m wrinkled with gray hair if things don’t work out with Grant .

There’s some yellow roses Grant stops at. “I’m going to buy these.”

I furrow my brow. “You can buy flowers here?”

“Not the ones that are planted, but the ones over there.” He points to where a bunch of roses are sitting in pots. “You can never have too many plants, in my opinion. If you want to pick out something too, be my guest.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I like the yellow ones.” He strokes his beard as he stares down at them. “They remind me of you.”

“Aren’t roses for old people?” I whisper.

“Not these ones. These can go right in the front yard. They’ll make me think of you every day when I leave and when I come home. I always think of you when I see yellow flowers.”

“Yellow roses mean friendship.”

He caresses my cheek. “That’s only when you give them to someone. I’m not giving them to you. I’m making sure you’re with me all the time.”

I turn away from him. This guy is too much sometimes.

“Don’t do that, Lana. What’s wrong?” He grabs my wrist, making me turn back to face him. It’s not in a violent way, but a demanding way. My nipples harden in return.

“Do what?” I act like I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Stop hiding from me. What’s going on?”

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“I’ve known you since we were kids. It’s been longer than two weeks. Yellow means sunshine. You’re my Sunshine. I’m getting some of these. Come on.”

He pulls my hand and gets three yellow rose bushes.

“The dirt is going to get everywhere in your car,” I tell him.

“I’ll get it washed.” He shrugs.

I cross my arms, waiting as he gets the flowers. He heads back over to me once he’s paid.

“You want to keep looking around or are you ready to go? ”

“I’m ready.”

He nods and takes my hand. Leading me to the car while someone loads up the roses in the back seat.

I sit in the front, dumbfounded. I’m in utter disbelief. How can a guy like Grant like me so much? I search for some clue in my head as to how we got here, but nothing is coming to mind.

I know what it is—he’s a crazy person. I’m falling for a crazy person. Just my luck.

~

We drive back home, the conversation silent. A rock station plays in the background while the smell of dirt fills the car. Once we reach Grant’s house, we greet Queenie who is waiting for us at the door.

“You okay, Sunshine?” He kisses my cheek after petting Queenie.

“Oh.” I flick my hand. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Okay, I’m going to plant these bushes. You want to help?”

I shake my head. “No thanks.”

“Okay. Shouldn’t be long. Just want to make sure they won’t die sitting around here.”

“I understand.”

He goes out to the garage, unloads his plants from the car and then finds some soil in the garage he pulls out.

Queenie and I watch him from the front window in his front office.

It’s surrounded with bookshelves, and a grand wooden desk sits overlooking the window.

He digs one hole in the same shorts and shirt he had on earlier.

A sheen of sweat appears as he continues working.

He removes his shirt and tosses it by the front door.

I fidget with my hair and bite my lower lip.

Now I can see every muscle tense, his hair moving slightly as he pushes his foot into the shovel. My lady parts are melting. I can’t stop gawking at the massive muscles on his arms. His hands cover over the shovel handle, manhandling it like it’s a toothpick.

My finger is by my mouth, wanting to put something of his in there. I’m having flashbacks to when I used to watch him out the window when I was younger. Except now, I could go out there and be with him. Something about watching him from afar is making my feet stay planted where they are.

He digs and plants three yellow rose bushes. Then takes a couple steps back, admiring his work on his new additions to his yard. I shuffle away, thinking of a fantasy I could give him.