With my lunch bag in hand, I knew exactly what I needed to do as I headed toward the main floor to have a conversation before starting the coffee so I could move on with my day.
Rip was looking through a manual beside an old Corvette I hadn’t seen before. He glanced over the second my footsteps started to get louder. He had the same face he’d had on the day before when I’d asked him about the orange flower. Calm, patient, serious.
“Mr. Ripley—”
He smiled.
He full-out, outright smiled. Dimple and everything.
At me.
“You mean Rip.”
I was going to ignore it. I held my head up, took a breath through my nose, and said as professionally as possible, “I told you, you don’t have to buy me anything if you feel bad—”
His eyebrows went up just slightly as he beamed that beautiful closed-mouth smile at me. “Told you I’m not doing it because I feel bad.”
Then why, Rip? Why are you doing it?
“You said nobody’s ever given you flowers before,” he went on, still too calm, still smiling.
I shut my freaking mouth.
“You like it?”
Say no. Say no. Be a bish and say no.
The problem was, I wasn’t used to being one. At least not a real one.
So I told him the freaking truth. “It’s beautiful.”
His smile wavered. “Good.”
And before I could open my mouth to remind him again he didn’t need to do the flowers or the donuts or going to bars where I had dates, he jerked his chin to the side, toward the wall of tool chests and said, “Made your coffee. Not sure if I got it right, but I think I did.”
He’d made my coffee?
What in the hell was happening? It genuinely felt like I’d gotten hit on the back of the head and was having delusions or something. It felt like… I didn’t know what it felt like. But not real.
Not even like a freaking fantasy. Not even close.
All I could do was stand there. Stand there feeling like this man had punched me as hard as he could in the solar plexus. Then as if that wasn’t enough, he’d kicked my legs out from under me.
Before he could say anything else, before I could remember how to speak or think about what I could or should say, his cell phone started to ring. His hand was pulling it out of his pocket when he said, his smile melting into a smaller, gentler one, “Used some of the decaf you have hidden too, in case you’re worried about your hands.”
And then he answered his call. Like I wasn’t there standing like a dum-dum as I figured out why he was taking this so far that he made me my coffee. I’d watched him. When he was lazy, he didn’t even make his own coffee the way he liked it.
But he’d made mine.
On the same day he’d brought me a purple flower that reminded me of my house.
The night after he’d kicked my date to the curb and taken me to eat burgers, fries, and an ice cream cone, while I’d mostly stared at him the whole time, thinking.
Sure enough, when I picked up my coffee mug as he spoke to what I figured was one of the companies CCC ordered parts from, I took a sip and… it tasted exactly how I made mine.
Exactly.
And like the chicken I was now, I headed back to my room before he got off the phone.
I needed to think. Well, I needed to do more than think, but….
I hadn’t told Lenny about the rose the day before because I hadn’t seen a point, but when I made it back to my room with my coffee burning a hole straight into my heart, I had to pull my phone out and type a message.
Me: He brought me a purple rose and made me coffee.
There was possibly a thirty-second delay before she responded.
Lenny: Who?
Me: Rip
Lenny: O.O
Lenny: Why?
I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about anything that happened yesterday, and I sure hadn’t told her about him knowing about my family. All she knew was that he’d been a jerk at the hospital and we hadn’t been on speaking terms since.
Me: He bought me an orange rose yesterday and left it in my office too. So I went to tell him he didn’t have to make it up to me or anything… and he said that he wasn’t trying to make it up to me.
Lenny: And???
Me: You know how I had that date yesterday? He showed up at the bar and ran the guy off. Then he said he wanted his Luna and how he wanted to see my face first thing every morning, and then we went to eat burgers.
Me: I thought he was full of crap and just stringing me along so I wouldn’t get pissed off and quit, but now he’s making me coffee and bringing me roses and asking me if I like them, and telling me he listens to everything I say… and I don’t know what I’m doing.
Me: No one’s ever bought me flowers before, and he remembered that.
Me: What do I do?
Lenny: And why are you asking me what you should do? I don’t know.
Lenny: He kind of deserves for you to tell him to fuck off, but I’m on my period and want to kill half the guys at the gym.
Lenny: I do have to say that’s pretty sweet though.
Lenny: The only men that have ever made me coffee are Grandpa Gus and Peter. Food for thought.
Me: You’re useless.
Me: I’ll think about it.
Lenny: Sorry
Me: I didn’t tell you he’s been coming by my room every day for no reason.
Lenny: Now you’re just rubbing it in.
Lenny: Tell me what happens. I need to live through you since it’s the only romance in my life.
Me: I don’t think it’s romance. I think he just feels bad.
Lenny: Bish, I’ve grown up with guys. Even if they feel bad about something, most of the time, they won’t even say they’re sorry. They’ll just act normal and hope you forget. They’re not going to get you flowers and make you coffee and say things like that to you. Not even if they want to get in your pants. Just saying.
Me: You just said you don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
Lenny: I don’t, but I know men and I know assholes, and neither one is going to be buying you flowers for no reason. Or telling you shit like they want you back.
Lenny: Want me to ask Grandpa Gus and see what he thinks? He’s been a man for seventy-two years now. Even if he doesn’t know, he’ll make something up.
I wasn’t crazy about her asking Grandpa Gus what I should do, but who else did I have to give me advice? Mr. Cooper? Miguel?
I rubbed my palm over my forehead and sighed as I replied.
Me: Okay. Ask him.
Lenny: You’re welcome.
Me: Thanks. Gotta get to work now.
Lenny: Some of us have already been at work…
Lenny: Kisses
I sighed again and set my phone into my back pocket as my eyes went back to the two flowers sitting in the jar, just… taunting me.
*
Lenny had texted me last night and said that Grandpa Gus had told her that she was right: Rip wouldn’t have said that kind of thing unless he meant it, and that Len was right again. He wouldn’t be buying me flowers if he felt guilty either.
But…
What if that wasn’t the case?
What if he changed his mind?
*
A week went by and the flowers kept showing up on my desk every morning. Different shades of pink, red, orange, yellow, lilac, purple… All of them short-stemmed and without thorns, waiting for me.
And if that wasn’t enough, my cup of coffee was there every morning too. Sitting beside the coffee maker one day, beside the little jar of flowers on another day, and on three other occasions on whatever tool chest was right beside him. And when I’d go to get it, he would shoot me a smile and ask if I liked the flower he’d left.
I wasn’t even going to think about how every afternoon there was a container in the refrigerator with my name on it.
Much less how I ate it instead of the lunch I brought myself, which wasn’t a tenth as good as what he made.
If none of that was enough, when I got to work one random morning, I found that my Ball jar had been replaced. In its place was a pretty globe-shaped vase with an icy blue and white lace ribbon wrapped around the fluted end. Pretty, it was so freaking pretty, I had almost been scared to touch it.