Blooming Hills Florist Novels & Stories

Williams poured the tea. “So, tell me about Blossom’s Bouquet,” I started, my pen poised. Mrs. Williams beamed as she sipped her tea. It was obvious that she was proud of her business. “Well, we’ve been here nearly twenty years,” she said. “Started by my late husband and me. We specialize in custom arrangements. Weddings, funerals, celebrations, you name it.” I scribbled down notes as she spoke. “And what would you say makes your shop unique?”

Camryn was honest with her answer. Callum told her that he would recommend her services to the Marshalls if she hand-delivered the flowers to him. The Marshalls were having a ball in the Wiltspoon Hotel in two days, and they needed flowers to decorate the event hall. If all went well, the Marshalls would ask the hotel to source the flowers through Spring Blossoms. This was business. Wanting to score the business opportunity, Camryn took the risk and came delivering the flowers to Callum. Serenity puckered her brows. It was Callum’s funeral; he would regret it sooner or later.

Flowers. I had told myself earlier I wanted to get Susanna flowers. A small gesture, She deserved beauty, not just battles. I pulled away from the secluded road, turning not towards the fastest route home, but towards the distant glow of the city lights. I spotted a small, brightly lit shop, its neon sign flickering: "Blossom & Bloom." It seemed almost miraculous. I parked and went inside. The chime above the door announced my arrival. The air inside was warm, humid, and thick with the scent of lilies and roses. An older woman with kind eyes and a headscarf looked up from behind a counter overflowing with vibrant arrangements. She seemed startled, then offered a tired but gentle smile.

Miranda was right, this is what I needed, a change of scene. When I go back to my desk after lunch there’s a yellow orchid with a hand written note on my keyboard. I feel embarrassed. Obviously, it’s not for me, this is my first day, no one knows I’m here, the messenger probably made a mistake and now I’m going to have to look for the girl this was meant to. I read the note. Have a great first day, doll. Stefan. My heart skips a beat. The orchid is for me. I can’t help smiling. So Handsome Intruder is named Stefan. It’s nice to know. How did he guess orchids were my favorite kind of flowers?

He had been paying attention to everything. Ben went back to the Variety app and searched for sunflowers. He found several florist stores. He picked his choice—a bouquet of sunflowers mixed with white daisies, wrapped in brown paper. And lucky for him, it was same-day delivery. The cutoff for same-day orders was 1 PM. It was just past nine. He had time. Barely, but he had time.

Then I pause in front of the first one, fighting hard to stop myself from sniffing the beautifully scented roses. Bhyron’s eyes follow my every step. I can feel the heat of his stare caressing my naked skin. I lean forward to inspect the label on the first box, my heart twisting with bitterness when I notice the name of the company. “Roses from Flora’s Scents, one of the most expensive flower shops in New Jersey.” I scoff. This only confirms one thing — Bhyron really believes I’m a gold digger. I hide my anger and bitterness beneath a plastic smile and reach forward to straighten the man’s slightly crooked collar. He stiffens when I touch him. Good.

After gathering my composure, I went out in slippers. The end of spring in Southhope City saw bougainvilleas blooming on the side of the streets. When the breeze blew, bougainvilleas drifted along before scattering all over the surface of the lake, creating ripples in the water. I spaced out as I sat on a bench in the park. Then, I spotted an elderly woman selling flowers. "Hello, Miss. Would you like some flowers?" "No, there's no one I'd give them to."

“Make sure the lilies are fresh. If I see a single wilted petal, you'll be paying for them out of your paycheck.” The call goes dead. Is he serious? His company almost lost millions today. And he's... he is busy buying flowers for her and planning romantic gestures, really? I sink slowly into my chair, exhausted from the events of the day. Using my phone, I book a ride home before pulling up the florist’s number, the one I've called a hundred times before for client gifts and event decorations. “I need a delivery to the VA Hotel presidential suite. Tonight.” I say when they answer, and I hate how well trained my voice sounds.

"I need you to call the florist we use for the corporate lobby. The one on Fifth Street." "The premium floral shop? Yes, sir. What kind of arrangement do you need?" "White camellias," Darius said, remembering the small bush that used to grow near the back fence of the Sterling estate, where Thea used to sit alone with her books. "I don’t want massive bows. Just a simple glass vase. Have them delivered to the main office of The Daily Herald.” There was a short pause on the line. Clara knew exactly who owned the newspaper now. Everybody in the business world did. "And the name on the delivery tag, sir?"

Now he wanted a seat at my table. He would get nothing. The next afternoon, the scent of fresh earth and floral sweetness hit me before I even opened my office door. Axton was already standing inside, holding a massive, overflowing arrangement of white blossoms. "What is that?" I asked, stopping dead on the threshold. "Moonlight orchids," Axton said, his voice tight. "Over a hundred stalks. They were flown in from the southern valleys this morning." I walked over, my boots clicking sharply on the hardwood floor. I reached out, my fingers brushing the pale, glowing petals. "A small fortune. Who sent them?"