12. Bouquet

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  Wiping my hands on the knees of my jeans, I pushed myself up from the ground to head inside for a break. It had been a busy morning on the farm, and I had spent every drop of water in my cannister. My mouth was noticably dry, and I could think of little else that would be quite as satisfying as a cool glass of iced tea. Eager to rehydrate, I went up the porch steps two at a time. I paused as I reached the top, noticing a yellow envelope propped up against my front door. I didn't need to examine the intricate, swirling monogram stamped into the wax seal to know it was from Elliott, but it was a nice touch anyway.

I felt my excitement swell as I opened it, careful not to disturb the wax. I took a moment to admire his stationary. Like many other things about Elliott, it had a timeless feel to it. A slight smile tugged at the corners of my lips. It was an invitation to the beach for lunch. I couldn't help but wonder what sort of recipe he'd select from his arsenal, but I was willing to try whatever was offered.

I checked my watch, realizing I had just over an hour to prepare. I wasn't about to show up to see him in my muddy cover-alls and work boots, though I knew he wasn't likely to mind. Now that I knew for sure we were on the same page, I was determined to make any occasion with Elliott a special one. But what to wear?

I scanned through my closet in search of something suitable, not quite satisfied with my options. Everything was either too casual or too dressy for the situation. I certainly didn't want to arrive in something unnecessarily extravagant, but I wanted to look nice for him, and I felt that the majority of my wardrobe was underwhelming. Sighing, I settled on an ensemble I'd worn a handful of times, making a mental note to ask Haley for some shop recommendations.

I knew that I was getting a little ahead of myself. We weren't officially dating, though it was easy to get my hopes up knowing that we seemed to be heading that direction. I remembered Pierre's comment at the flower dance: "And hey, if it doesn't work out, there's always next year. But if it does, I'm having a sale on bouquets this weekend." The cheeky bastard. It was a tempting offer though, and I found myself debating if I should take him up as I made for the path into town.

As I entered the town square, I decided it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look at Pierre's selection. I pulled open the door, cringing internally at the sound of the alert bell. I had already begun to feel as though everyone in the shop would notice my perusal of the flower arrangements; the chime announcing my entrance surely wasn't helping to ease my anxiety. I wandered the store for a while, pretending to browse.

When I eventually came to the bouquets, I noticed an empty space on the shelf. Pierre's sale must have been quite the bargain. Each arrangement was lovely, but I struggled to determine which Elliott would like best. My focus settled on a classic bundle of twelve red roses. Maybe it was cliche, but it seemed like the type of thing he'd appreciate. But then again, maybe it was too plain for his lavish tastes.

Standing in the aisle, I was beginning to lose courage, but I tried to push it down. It was on sale, after all. It would be foolish of me not to take advantage of the opportunity to both woo my suitor and save a little coin. Reluctantly, I reached for the bouquet and placed it in my market basket, turning toward the checkout desk.

I kept my head down as I waited in line, begging for the whole ordeal to be over so I could just get on with my day. Pierre rang me up, a knowing look on his face as he packed the bundle of flowers and placed it back onto the counter. I shifted my gaze around the room, avoiding his eyes.

"That'll be 85g," he said finally. I dug through my bag, finding only a 100g note. I heaved a sigh as I handed it to him.

"Keep the change," I said, sliding the flowers into my bag and out of sight. Bargain be damned.

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