Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

14. Declan

14

DECLAN

H ad I not felt the pounding of her heart, I might’ve thought it had stopped. For a whole minute, she was perfectly frozen, not one muscle moving. Then she slid out of my grip, putting space between us as she turned to look at me. I shook my head, rushing to explain. “It’s nothing like that. It’s not even bad, really, but I want to keep seeing you, and I don’t want you to think I’m dishonest.”

Hannah had a frantic look about her, pressing toward the wall, her eyes wide and darting, and I reached for her, wanting to soothe her worries with soft kisses to her mouth and throat. But she jerked away from my touch, sitting up and pulling the sheets with her protectively. I knew I couldn’t let her get up and walk away thinking I had done something terrible so I grabbed her two wrists. She wrenched at my grip and I let go instantly, realizing my mistake.

“Hannah, Hannah!” But I couldn’t get her to calm down and I had to say something quick. She skittered to the edge of the bed, and that damn dog now stood behind her. “My mom already went home. She’s not in Chicago,” I said all at once, and Hannah’s movements ceased.

Still perched at the edge of the bed, she now stared at me quizzically, her head tilting to one side, and I continued, resignation in my voice. “My mom went home to California before you made her arrangement. I didn’t come to Whittaker intending to buy flowers for her. I just wanted an excuse to see you. I didn’t know the shop was closed, and I didn’t know you didn’t make arrangements to send. I obviously never meant to get you in trouble, but I loved what you made. I loved what you made so much I have it in my hotel room, and it makes me smile stupidly every time I see it.”

She remained, silent and blinking, still clutching the sheet to her chest, and I added, “Hannah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to be up-front about the flowers. I’ve been completely honest about everything else.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and an excruciating amount of time passed before she spoke. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

I rubbed my jaw. The answer was simple. While telling her was a risk, it was wiser than being caught in a stupid lie. But I needed to find better words than that. Words that conveyed the strange feelings I’d been experiencing since the first moment I met her. “This has been a pretty great date, Hannah, and when I walk out of here, I’m not going to be able to wait to call you and ask you out again.” I shot her a crooked grin and continued, “I don’t regret getting the flowers, because you would’ve disappeared from my life otherwise, but I am sorry I lied. It was bad enough to barge into Whittaker asking for flowers for my mom, I couldn’t very well admit they were only for me.” I sighed, standing up and collecting my pants from where they lie next to the bed. She remained stock still and utterly quiet. “I just wanted you to know. That’s why I told you.”

I looked down to step into my underwear, but her voice drew my gaze back up. “You made me do all that work for nothing?”

I nearly tripped when my left foot got caught in the leg of my boxer briefs, but I caught the edge of the bed, mostly avoiding making an ass of myself. “I guess I regret that—I do. But it wasn’t for nothing. I wasn’t ready to never see you again. I’m still not ready.”

“You…” She appeared to be digesting this news. “You nearly got me fired,” she said. Her head cocked to one side, but I saw a hint of a smile and I prayed she might forgive me .

“Okay, that I definitely regret,” I acknowledged earnestly. “Like I said, I had no idea you didn’t make arrangements.” She scooted closer and I held perfectly still, fighting the impulse to pull her close. She had to decide she wanted this on her own.

She stood on her knees, evening out our heights, still holding the sheet in front of her. “Do you regret being a pompous ass?” she asked, the smile now dancing at the corner of her lips.

“Usually, no, but with you…I wish I had some way to impress you, but I don’t.”

“Don’t leave,” she said softly.

I sat down on the bed, and she lowered to sit next to me. “Can I tell you something?” I asked.

Her eyes went wide. “There’s more?”

My smile deepened, and my eyebrows bobbed playfully. “When I look at the arrangement, inexplicably, it makes my dick hard.”

Hannah laughed, deep and throaty. “Hot for flowers?” she joked.

“Hot for florist,” I replied, drawing her near enough to kiss her.

“Floral assistant,” she reminded me, but I captured the words in another kiss, pulling her tighter against my body. When our lips parted she slipped back under the covers, pulling me by one hand until I joined her. Then she rested her head on my shoulder, and I tucked my nose into her hair to breathe in its floral scent while I slept.

“Are you sure you have to work today? I was told Whittaker Floral was closed on Tuesdays.”

Hannah laughed. “Whittaker Floral is closed on Tuesdays, not that being closed stops some people from walking in.” She shot me a look, then pulled a green T-shirt over her head. “Tuesdays are when we go over our events for the week, order flowers, etcetera,” she explained.

I leaned back on my elbows, now fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes but still sitting on her bed. “I’ll walk you to the train,” I offered.

“You don’t need to do that.”

She was right. It was insane to even suggest. If I’d ever gone on a date with a woman who not only stayed the night but walked me to the train, I’d be blocking her number before the subway doors closed. “I can head out if you’d prefer,” I offered.

“I’m not saying that,” she added quickly, and I paused.

I raised my brow, a silent question: What do you want?

“Do you like coffee? There’s a good coffee shop on the way.”

I refrained from mentioning we’d gotten coffee last night and she already knew I loved it. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great,” she replied.

We got coffee, walking leisurely toward the train station even though I was sure Hannah had to get to work. When we finally got to the station, she paused, turning toward me. “Will I see you again?” she asked.

I wanted to laugh, or maybe to roll my eyes, because nothing could be more absurd after last night than the idea of ghosting Hannah. But I thought either gesture would embarrass her, so I smiled and offered my answer instead. “Of course. I have a game tonight and tomorrow night though.”

“I don’t work on Wednesdays. Are you free during the day?”

I slipped my hand under her hair, cupping the back of her neck. Tomorrow seemed too far away, somehow. “That sounds wonderful,” I replied, then, tugging her closer, I dropped my lips to hers and captured them in a tender kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, turning toward the station. I followed her, and she frowned. “Deck—” she began, but I cut her off.

“I’m going to take the L back to my place,” I explained.

Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled. “Of course,” she said, swiping her card and walking through the turnstile. She turned back to me. “You go up those steps. These are mine.”

I nodded, following her directions. “See you tomorrow, Hannah.”

“See you tomorrow, Declan.”

Wednesday morning, Hannah’s day off, we met for breakfast and walked over to the lake, heading north and enjoying the breeze and the beautiful views. Not far up the lakefront path we encountered an unexpected driving range. “Did you know this was here? Wanna’ hit some balls?”

She crinkled her nose as if I had suggested something foul. “I’ve seen the sign for it, but I don’t think I like golf.”

I shook my head at her. “This isn’t golf, it’s a driving range. Totally different. I’ll teach you.”

She looked skeptical. “If you want.”

“I do. It’ll be fun.”

We rented clubs and bought a large basket of balls, then headed to the upper tier, which offered sweeping views of the lake straight ahead, plus the harbor on one side and the skyline on the other. For a moment I simply stood, taking in my surroundings. I’d never love Chicago the way I loved New York, but it was an unquestionably beautiful city. Hannah turned to appreciate the skyline as well, a sweet little smile tipping her lips. “It’s pretty,” she murmured.

I swallowed down the compliment that rose in my throat, knowing Hannah wouldn’t appreciate throwaway lines like, You’re pretty. Instead, I nodded, shooting her a smile, then set up her mat, pouring some balls out for each of us before settling the basket next to me.

She looked perplexed, her eyes jumping between the balls and the expanse of green ahead of us, and I slid in behind her, pressing my body to hers and wrapping my arms around to reach over her hands. I spoke gently, moving the club within her grasp. “Stack your hands, lining up your thumbs like this.” She seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and I agreed her arms did not rest easily with her large chest in the way. I frowned, thinking through the problem. “I think you’ll need to push your breasts up between your arms so you can straighten out,” I suggested .

“Seriously?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow as if she thought I was a teen boy asking her to touch elbows.

“Seriously,” I said, laughing. “I have no ulterior motives.”

Hannah bent her elbows, hitching under each breast and pressing them toward each other. The effect was magnificent, and I growled my appreciation in spite of myself.

“I thought I was a better man than this, but that is really spectacular,” I said with a grin, and she glanced up at me, rolling her eyes, her lips pressed together to hide her smile. She looked back down at the ball with impressive concentration, inhaling deeply. If a human could will a ball into the air by the sheer force of their desire, Hannah would’ve done it. “Now, raise your arms up like you're at bat,” I said, wanting this for her as much as she did.

Her eyes shot back to me, her expression wry. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but are you under the impression I’m frequently playing baseball?”

I chuckled, slipping my body back behind hers to position her. “This one straight and the other bent, like so. Now you’re going to hit the ball. Give it a try.”

She swung and connected, sending the ball hopping five feet off her mat, only just making it over the edge of the platform. I grimaced, hoping she hadn’t hit anyone below, but schooled my expression as she turned to look at me, raising her eyebrows and looking unimpressed.

“That’s good! You hit it. Keep practicing,” I encouraged her, and she turned back to pick up another ball. “I’m going right here to hit some of my own.”

I moved to the space just to her right, eyeing the grassy range before me and positioning the ball on my mat to swing. The first couple drives cut badly to the left, but it still felt good to be out hitting balls. I looked back at Hannah, who was anchoring her arms below her ample breasts again, pushing them towards her face. I regretted not burying my face in her chest last night. She hit and this time the ball flew twenty or thirty feet. Looking up, her eyes were big and a smile split her face .

“Nice, Han,” I said, returning her smile.

By the time we were done hitting, I’d lessened the pull on my strokes and Hannah had two or three decent hits that went around forty feet. She was flushed and smiling. “That was fun,” she exclaimed, wrapping an arm around me. “I’m not sure how much time you have left before the game tonight, but did you want to walk back to my place?” I raised my eyebrows at her this time, but she grinned impishly. “I have a whole box of condoms that’ll probably expire if we don’t use them, and that seems wasteful.”

“That’s the environmental scientist talking, right?” I asked with a grin.