One Wish

He lifted one eyebrow. “Did it ever occur to you that’s why I’m not undressing in front of you?”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go back inside the store. There’s no one in the parking lot. Get it done.”

And with that, she was out of the car. She chatted it up with the cashier for a minute, explaining Troy’s shyness. She glanced at her watch, supposing enough time had passed. When she walked back outside, what she saw caused her to stop dead in her tracks.

A police car was parked next to the Jeep and an officer had Troy out of the car, standing in his wet stocking feet wearing his ladies’ shorts, talking and shivering. Oh, no! she thought. He must have been changing when the officer pulled up. Of course he had to take off his shoes to get out of his pants. She could imagine what the officer thought! She took two steps toward them to help, to be a witness to Troy’s explanation.

But she started to laugh again and was absolutely no help at all.

* * *

Troy insisted on taking over the driving. He was no longer chattering and shaking. He was, however, a little out of sorts. And he cast glances at Grace, who was looking out the window attempting not to laugh, the attempt causing her to snort now and then.

She turned toward him, her hand suspiciously covering her mouth. “So, how did the police become involved?”

“He snuck up on me as I was changing pants. I was at a disadvantage. My wet jeans were tossed over the seat and these pretty little shorts you so kindly bought me were around my ankles and I was drying off when I looked up and he was staring in the window. He told me to get out of the car. I had barely stopped explaining the situation when you came out of the store and laughed until you almost peed yourself. I’m writing a letter to the city council. I think it’s unprofessional for a police officer to laugh until he farts.”

Grace quickly looked out the window. She snorted again. She got the hiccups.

“Glad I could be so entertaining,” he grumbled.

“Are you going to drop me off at the flower shop?” she asked.

“Oh-ho, no way, Gracie. I might’ve screwed up my first attempt at showing you how to have fun but I’m not giving up. And I’m not letting you do accounting on a holiday! I’ll just clean up and we’ll go at it again.”

“Really, Troy, I think your work here is done. I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun in my life.” She snickered a little and bit her lip. “Besides, I think you might be mad at me for laughing. And that doesn’t sound like fun.”

“I’m not mad,” he snapped. “I’m wet!” He took a breath and said, “I’ll be more fun when I’m dry and not wearing girl pants.”

“I think you’re fun right now,” she said. Then she grinned at him.

He parked behind his apartment complex and led her up to the second floor, leaving all his wet clothing outside the door. He unlocked his dead bolt. Once inside, she looked around. “Wow. Nice.”

He smiled to himself. It was a crappy old complex on the outside, but Troy had done a little work on the inside. He’d painted, for one thing, and bought a nice, deep and fluffy area rug to put over the old and worn carpeting in the living room. He had some nice shelving and a fifty-seven-inch flat screen. He’d made repairs and improvements here and there, like taking down the shower curtain and installing a glass shower door, sanding and refinishing the bathroom cabinets, scrubbing the place like he owned it. His parents’ old leather sectional fit right in. The only things he had that were new were the butcher-block table and high chairs. His bedroom furniture was only a few years old and he had been collecting a few framed LeRoy Neiman prints for the walls. The frames were more valuable than the prints, but he liked Neiman’s sports art.

“Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything—eat, drink, whatever. There’s the remote. I have to get a shower. I’ll be quick.”

He left her standing in the small living room. Once he was under the hot water, sudsing the smell of salt and seaweed from his hair and body, he smiled to himself. Grace was a free spirit. A little wild and uncontrolled with a deep-down joy and playfulness that turned him on. He might’ve acted a little insulted at her lusty humor directed at him but, to be honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. That was no prissy little laugh the girl had: she laughed down to her toes. There was passion in her.

He revisited his checklist in his mind and moved She must be a happy person to number one in his requirements. If that meant laughing at his foibles, he could live with that. Grace didn’t come across as whiny, self-pitying, cloying or desperate. If he demanded a woman be a good sport, then he had to be, too. And who forced him to jump that wall? He’d been showing off. He loved showing off.

She might just prove to be a good little playmate.

When he got back to the living room to Grace, she was curled up in the corner of the sectional, holding a cup of something hot with both hands. Her boots were sitting at attention beside the couch and she was wearing bright pink socks. One of the many New Year’s Day bowl games was on television. He stood looking down at her, smiling, with his hands on his hips.

“Do you feel better?” she asked a little sheepishly.

“I’m tempted to hold you down and give you something to really laugh about. You ticklish, Gracie?”

She pulled back a little. “Don’t even think about it,” she said, holding up the cup. “I’m armed.”

“What is that?”

“Hot chocolate. You had some envelopes of mix in the drawer by the refrigerator.”

He wrinkled his brow. “That could be very old.”

“I don’t think dry powders spoil. Want to taste it?”

“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the cup. She handed it to him and he put it behind him on the coffee table. Then he tackled her on the couch. While she shrieked and begged and laughed, he pinned her with his body and attempted to tickle her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she squealed.

“What are you sorry for, Grace?” he asked, a devilish gleam in his eyes, pinning her to the sofa.

“I’m sorry I laughed and bruised your delicate little male ego,” she said, smiling.

“Ooh,” he growled, giving her a good rib-tickle.

“Ack! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Stop it, stop it!”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Okay, I lost it, I was out of control, I laughed at you when you were vulnerable and I’m sorry. No tickling!”

“A cop was threatening to arrest me for indecent exposure!” Troy said. “He thought I was a parking lot predator!”

A smile beamed across her face. “That was the best,” she said. “I’m sorry, but that was the best part. Although, that wave...I will never see anything like that again in my lifetime! You are an excellent fun coach.”

“It wasn’t my intention that you have fun at my expense,” he said. But he was smiling when he said it. “I was going to show you how to have a good time.”

“And so you did,” she said, smiling into his eyes. “Think of how successful that might’ve been if you could read. I mean, there was a sign. Can I make you some stale hot chocolate?”

“I don’t think so. I think my mother sent me that in one of her many boring care packages. What should we do today? Want to go out? Any ideas?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s stay in,” he said. “Let’s make some game food. I have stuff in the freezer. I have tri-tip and buns for tri-tip sliders. Or we can go with wings or pizza. I have beer but no wine.”

“I have wine in the flower cooler,” she said. “I just feel like such a slouch, eating so much trash and bar food.”

“I’ll slice some onion and pickles for your sliders. I have some deli potato salad but I don’t know...”

“Dangerous?” she asked.

“By this date, very likely. I don’t expect you to be that much of a good sport.”

“Oh, so that’s your game? You want a good sport?”

He gave her a quick kiss. “I want to enjoy myself with someone who’s enjoying herself. I have a feeling, a dark feeling, you don’t need my help with that.”

“Okay. I’ll do one more day of carbs and fats. But the next time we eat together there will be green things.”

“I love green things,” he lied.

He told her to take the Jeep to her place to retrieve her wine and she brought back a Scrabble game. She also threw in a DVD of one of her favorite non-chick flicks, Red. He looked at it and said, “I love Red!”

“Just in case your brain goes numb from football,” she said. “But I can do football as long as you can.”

They had a rousing game of Scrabble, which Troy won by a stretch. They curled up on the couch together to watch Red. Every once in a while Troy invaded her space for a make-out session. In midafternoon they worked together in the kitchen to build some sliders, which they ate on big plates in front of the TV. Troy quizzed her about football teams and stats. “You’re a big football fan,” he said.

“I’m a small football fan,” she corrected. “Or maybe medium. I enjoy the game but I don’t live for it like some people do. And I have a good memory for football facts.”

“And your favorite sport?” he asked.

“That’s a tough question. I think I like watching everything competitive.”

“I think I’ll invite you to my Super Bowl party,” he said while they rinsed the dishes.

“You’re having a Super Bowl party?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, directing her back to the couch, pulling her down and getting her back in his arms. He loved that there was no hesitation from her. His arms went around her waist, hers went around his neck, lips on lips and bodies pressed together. It being the height of winter, the sun was lowering and the only light was that from the kitchen and the TV.

“Who’s coming to your party?” she asked, lips pressed against his neck.

“I’m thinking of a very small party. It could be a private party.” He caressed her back, her sides, ran a hand over her butt and down her thigh. “Maybe just us.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she said.

He backed off a little. “Ever?”

“I’m not ready,” she told him. “I want to know you better.”

“That’s very reasonable,” he said, kissing her again. “But really, Gracie, you taste so good...”

“That’s sweet. I’m still not ready.”

“Are you going to be unready for a real long time? Because, honey, you are a turn-on. And I risked my life for you on the cliffs of Coos Bay today. Just to make you happy.”

She chuckled against his lips. “You are such a giving man. I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m ready.”

“Just out of curiosity, Grace, are you waiting for a sign?”

She nodded. “I am. Plus, I’d like to be sure you’re all done pining over Iris. That just feels weird.”

Troy immediately put a little space between them. He grew serious. “Iris is married, Grace.”

“I know this. I was there.”

“Listen, here’s how it is. I’m crazy about Iris. She’s an awesome person and great counselor for the kids. I consider her a good friend. It’s true, for a long time I thought if she gave it a chance we might be more than friends, but we weren’t on the same page. All right? We were never on the same page and even though she told me over and over, I thought she might reconsider. She didn’t.”

“I know all that, but you have to remember—Iris is my good friend, too. I don’t want the situation to be awkward.”

“I hope we’re all good friends for a long, long time,” he said. “When I kiss you, I’m not thinking about Iris. I’m not thinking about anyone but you.”

She frowned slightly. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t answer the question,” she said.

“Iris married the love of her life, her one true and forever love. Even if I did still carry a torch for her, I’d never admit it. Especially to you. But I don’t. She’s moved on and so have I. Do you believe me?”

She smiled a little bit. Her expression said she didn’t believe him at all, but how could she argue without calling him a liar. “Okay, I believe you,” she said. “But there are also things about me... I want you to get to know me a little better.”

“I’m ready whenever you are. But so far, you’re the mystery. You have some pretty vague answers to questions about your life, your family, your friends...”

“I know, Troy. Since I was raised an only child, isolated in some ways, I tend to be on the private side. If you’re just patient...”

He leaned toward her. He kissed her again and she melted into him.

“How do you like me so far?” he asked against her lips.

She smiled without breaking her hold on him. “You’re growing on me.”

“You can trust me. When you’re ready to tell me more, you can trust me. And you can ask me anything.”

“Okay. One important question before we go any further. Are you sure I’m not just a booty call?”

Four

On January second, Grace did an inventory of her stock, updated her calendar, cleaned out the flower bin and made herself a to-do list. She had two couples coming in at the end of the month to get estimates for spring weddings. Valentine’s Day would be her next major event and she wanted to begin decorating the shop right away. Soon it would be spring, when her stock would be more beautiful and plentiful than ever. The most important thing on her list was to find help for the shop! She really wanted to spend more time with the fun coach.

Being with Troy was intoxicating. They made out like teenagers, but she knew she was going to have to get ready for the next stage. Oh, so inviting! She was amazed he agreed not to rush her.

She heard the bell on the shop door tinkle and looked out of her workroom to see a familiar face as Al Michel stepped into the shop. He had the most handsome smile, a man who seemed perpetually happy. He was a big man, in his fifties with a powerful physique, who looked impervious to aging. He wore his blue work shirt, his name embroidered above the pocket.

“Hey there,” she said, coming into the shop. “How was Christmas?”

“Excellent,” he said.

“And what made it so special?” she asked.

“Well, my lady, for one thing, Ray Anne really went overboard to make sure it was nice for the boys. We had Christmas Eve at her house and she cooked most of the food, but I helped a little. She decorated and wrapped presents for everyone. Christmas Day was at our house, but she took care of most of the food. We brought the boys’ mom from the nursing home for a few hours and it was great. Her MS is under control for the moment, and I could tell the boys were proud to have her home, if only for a little while. I think it was the nicest holiday any of us has had in years, especially the boys.”

Grace leaned on her counter and tilted her head. “I don’t have any idea how you got hooked up with those boys,” she said.

“Simple,” he said. “Justin, the oldest, worked with me at the service station. He’s nineteen and real private. I found out he was taking care of his mother and two younger brothers, killing himself to hold it all together while his mom was just getting more and more infirm. So we teamed up—me and the boys. I’m their foster father. Their mom needed the nursing home and it made sense for me to move into their house. The two younger boys are in school. They’re good kids, but they still need supervision. Not constant, but regular. Know what I mean? But just to be sure things couldn’t be simple or real easy, I found my lady, Ray Anne, right about the same time I found my family of boys.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Now, Ray Anne is a good woman and I think she loves those boys like they’re her own, but she’s...” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if Ray Anne even knows how old she is, but she’s not as young as she looks. She’s probably too set in her ways to live with a man like me and three teenage boys. She’s particular and fussy. The way we got it worked out is good. I live with the boys, she lives in her own house. She visits, invites us over sometimes, and then there’s the times those boys grant me leave and I visit my lady without them chaperoning. It verges on a perfect life.”

“Wow. All that happened at once?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this settled.”

“In two houses,” Grace said with a laugh.

“Aw, it won’t be two houses forever. Justin passed his GED and we’re looking into college courses. Scares him to death but the boy is smarter than he thinks. Danny’s in high school, Kevin’s almost done with middle school. Before I know it, I won’t be that necessary to them.”

“Oh, I bet you’ll be the dad for a long time to come. Maybe even a grandpa.”

“Hush now,” he said, grinning. “We’re in the grandparent prevention program at my house. Those boys don’t need any more complications. Now, Grace, I should take my lady some pretty flowers. She worked so hard over Christmas to make sure me and the crew had a great holiday. That woman is a dream come true. What’ve you got that’s perfect for her?”

“I just cleaned out the bin,” she said. “Would you like a bouquet or an arrangement?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “What’s the difference?”

“The last flowers I sold you in the square vase—that was a bouquet. A table arrangement is like a centerpiece for her table or bedroom dresser. I have some lavender and white roses, hydrangea, lilies—the pretty green and white ones. Next week I’ll have a new crop of calla lilies.”

He contemplated for a second and she was thinking what a good catch he must be—a man with tender feelings, strong enough to take on a brood of teenage boys and sensitive enough to think of his lady with flowers. “Just make something pretty, Grace. Fifty bucks or so?”

“Wow, you do love that lady.”

“Every time I think of her I want to fill her house with flowers. Ray likes pretty things. I waited a long time to find someone like her.”

“What’s it like, asking three teenage boys if you can go out on a date?”

He laughed. “A lot of monkey business, kissing noises, that kind of thing. Especially the younger two—I can’t wait till they have girlfriends. I’m planning to be relentless and obnoxious, they’ve earned it. So, how much time do you need on the flowers?”

“Thirty minutes, tops. Want to wait?”

“I think I’ll go get lunch at the diner while you work, then come back. Can I bring you anything?”

“That’s so sweet,” she said, shaking her head. A couple of weeks ago she might’ve said, Yeah, your younger brother! But now there was Troy. “I’m good. I’ll get right on this. And don’t forget to put in your order for Valentine’s Day roses early!”

Twenty minutes later the bouquet was finished—white, lavender, dark green and a little blue delphinium. She might’ve put extra love in the bouquet just thinking about Al and Ray Anne, finding each other a bit later in life. Here she’d been thinking that at twenty-eight she was long overdue.

When Al picked up the flowers they had a brief discussion about her need for help in the shop and he said Justin might be able to run some deliveries for her if he didn’t have to pay for gas. Al promised to ask him.

When she was alone, her personal cell rang and she answered.

“Hey there, flower girl. What are you doing?” Troy asked.

“Ah, you do know how to use a phone. I’m doing flowers. Beautiful flowers. How about you? Wanna go see the waves?”

“You’re adorable, you know that? I’m going to work for Cooper today and tomorrow, but Sunday is my day. And I go back to school on Monday. The flower shop is closed on Sundays. So—what should we do?”

“This implies you want to have an adventure? Is that it?”

“Let’s take 101 south, check out the redwoods, drive into the Humboldt County mountains and maybe break bread with some illegal pot growers. We can have a picnic in the redwoods. We might have to have it in the car—it’s going to be kind of cold but sunny. Except back in the trees, it’s dark and cold.”

“How do you know it’s going to be chilly and sunny?”

“My phone says it’s going to be sunny with a high of forty-five degrees.”

“What did we do before smartphones?”

“Listened to the farm report. So, what do you say, flower girl? Date?”

In all the places she’d been, from China to Charlotte, North Carolina, she’d never been to the redwoods. “I think that could be fun. We should pack extra clothes this time in case you have to show off again.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that under advisement. So, that’s Sunday. I’ll be at Cooper’s tonight. It’s Friday night. A clear and cold Friday night so there will be people. There might be teenagers on the beach with their fires and shenanigans. If you’re not tied up with the knight or the vampire or some loser Navy SEAL you could always come out.”

“I could, but I should think about it. Ever since I’ve had a fun coach some of my boyfriends have felt neglected.”

“I’ll be here till nine or ten, depending on people. I’ll follow you home to make sure you get in safely. Because I’m such a gentleman.”

“I’m sure you would. Let me see what I have to do.”

“You do that, Gracie.”

No one had ever called her Gracie or flower girl. She loved it.

She went to Cooper’s at almost eight, climbed up on a stool, her cheeks rosy and her fingers like icicles. It was a perfect night on the beach and there were three different fires surrounded by people, mostly young people.

“Hi,” Troy said, smiling. He grabbed her hand. “Whew. Cold.”

“I walked over,” she said. “I might need a ride home.”

He smiled wider. “Gotcha covered,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

Troy found lots of things he could do with Grace. She had never dated like this before. They drove down the coast to the redwoods, another day they went up the coast to Ecola Beach. They drove over to Eugene, and they drove up into the snowy Oregon mountains on a clear day. They went out to dinner twice and saw two movies. She went with him to a couple of high school basketball games and she closed the shop early one Saturday so they could drive to the university for a Ducks hockey game and they watched the Super Bowl together—just the two of them. They always ended the dates with more of that wonderful kissing. And with Troy always dangling the suggestion of an overnight. Grace kept pushing that idea back for now. But they made out every night. Every. Night. She really couldn’t get enough.

She found herself watching one of her favorite comfort chick flicks a lot—The Holiday. It was sweet, warm and fuzzy and she thought Troy looked very like Jude Law, except for the dimple. Grace was falling in love.

Because Grace and Troy had been seen around with Iris so often, not much was made of the fact that Iris was now missing—she was a newlywed, after all. In fact, Troy and Grace ran into Iris and Seth at a high school basketball game and they seemed completely unsurprised to see Troy and Grace together.

Then Iris popped into the shop one day after school. She’d been doing that quite regularly since Grace bought the shop. Iris liked to make her own flower arrangements and Grace gave them to her cheap. But, since she’d been married, the visits had become rare. Grace already had the workroom cleaned up. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Iris said. “Are you anxious to close?”

“I’m in no great hurry, but no one will be by now. People who want flowers after five call ahead—they know I’ll stay open for them to pick up if I can. This married business—I don’t see that much of you anymore!”

“Because now I go home and cook! If I don’t, Seth’s mom will try to feed us every night and we can’t have that. And I run errands and do laundry and get caught up on my homework before Seth comes home.”

“You cook? Oh, God, has he filed for an annulment yet?”

“Very funny. I’m getting better, but sometimes he cooks. Have any flowers you can spare? I could use something cheery in the house—this weather can be a downer.”

“Oh, I know exactly how to perk you up,” she said, going into the cooler. She brought out a bottle of nice sauvignon blanc and two icy glasses she kept in there for just such an occasion. “Ta-da! You can pick your flowers while I get the corkscrew out of my desk.”