Spitting toothpaste into the porcelain sink I turned the water on. Rinsing it down. Running my hands up my soft hair I took a moment to look into the mirror. My pale complexion looked nice and healthy thanks to the soft pink blush I'd tapped onto my checks.
Round green eyes stood out thanks to the mascara on my long eyelashes. Blush, mascara, and lipgloss were all I had time for these past few months. Luckily my previous years of time and money invested into complex skincare routines had paid off, and I felt confident without anything else.
Using a hair tie and two bobbie pins I sweep my hair into a large bun. Smiling to myself at my appearance. People had always joked I look like tinkerbell due to my small stature, pixie like bone structure and dirty blonde hair.
Today's choice of a silky green tank top and circular bun made me admit the resemblance. Checking the time on my phone I hurried out of my room. No time to change now, tinkerbell it is.
"Junior time to go." I called up the stairs as I hurried to grab my shoes. Slipping on the grey vans I watched as my blonde little boy hurried down the stairs in a Captain America t-shirt. I have to wash that one twice a week he loves it so much.
"Can you grab my lunch bag for me?" Nodding he hurried over to the fridge to find the purple bag.
"Am I going to Riley's today?"
I nod grabbing my purse and car keys from the side table. "Yup. You two get to play all day while I'm working."
Junior ran over with my lunch and put his shoes on in record time, excited to see his best friend.
~~~
Placing a bunch of sunflowers into the display vase I looked around the shop sighing. This little shop is my haven. The florist shop was opened by my grandmother selling cuttings from her and her friends cutting gardens. My mother inherited it adding her homemade medicinal teas to our inventory. Then I did inherited it, adding my floral bath soaks to our shelves, keeping the young Californians coming into our humble shop.
I grew up in this tranquil little shop on our town's historic main street and adore it. Hopefully my kids will too.
The obnoxious sound of motorcycles on the street outside had me rolling my eyes as I walked back behind the counter. Motorcycle sounds wasn't anything new on our main roads. Sitting on the stool I was about to check our online orders for deliveries today when the door bell chimed.
"Welcome to Rose's Cuttings. " I automatically greeted with a smile looking up. "Let me know if-" I chocked on the words as I spotted who'd just walked in. "If you need any help." I forced the words out, admittedly with less cheer.
The two men looked sorely out of place in my delicate little shop, one of them smirking at my reaction. He was tall, lean, yet insanely ripped. Swirling tattoos covered his arms and chest. Messy black hair matched a beard and dark eyes. He screamed dark dangerous, sex on legs, exactly the type of guy every mother warns their daughters about. His companion was equally as imposing in build.
Beautiful brown hair pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head. Light brown eyes found mine, causing my stomach to flip. He has a gorgeous long blonde beard. Hes' tall, ducking pastt the bell that hangs over the door. With a the broadest, sexiest chest and shoulders I've ever seen.
Hot. These two could be described as nothing less but that's not what made me stumble.
It was the leather vests that hung from their shoulders. Covered in patches one of which caused a shot of fear to course through me 'Dullahan' The Headless Riders. From the stories my grandfather had told the town's motorcycle club with illegal ties had earned that name back when they first put down roots here. More than a few decapitated- sometimes even burnt- bodies appeared in the town square or our cities' borders. A clear marking of territory.
Grandpa taught me and my cousins to respect the club. They kept the drug runners out of our town and the human traffickers away from our people. And kept to themselves. A blessing in this part of southern Texas so far south. So close to the border.
They also ran guns and didn't take kindly to people getting in their way. Besides being in the same year as one of their daughters- who I never really socialized with- I had never interacted with any club members. Now two of them stood in my shop, just us as one of them stared down my shirt.
I sat straighter, trying to limit dark and tatted's view suddenly hating I'd chosen this cute tank top due to the stifling heat of summer. I did not want this guy looking at me like that, or getting any ideas. His cold stare made me uncomfortable and want to run.
The darker haired man leaned against the counter still smirking. "Oh I can think of a couple ways you can help me out sweetheart."
I could feel my cheeks heating up at the innuendo having no idea what to say to that from a guy like this. What in the world are these scary bikers doing in a flower shop?! My heart skipped in my chest, my fingers bending wanting to clench into fists.
"Stop messing with the girl Viper." The deep, gruff voice reverbrated inside me causing my stomach to flip. I'd never heard such a baritone sexual voice before. Man bun shoved his shoulder causing dark hair-Viper to lean away from me.
I breathed again with him out of my space. "Hey, I'm Kane." Man bun smiled barely, offering his hand. His intense, reverberating voice softer as he spoke to me than his friend.
"Juniper." Gingerly I shook, my hand dispersing inside his tanned one. His calloused grip was surprisingly gentle. Meeting his light brown eyes my stomach flipped again. How could a man be this beautiful and terrifying simultaneously?
"We need to place an order for this Friday and Saturday."
I nodded pulling out my binder of order forms from under the counter. "What is the occasion?"
"A funeral." My head jerked up at Vipers words. My stomach flips and battling thoughts of handsomeness and terrifyingness gone at the solemn tone.
"Ah. I'm sorry for your loss." They nodded. I pulled a different binder from under the counter and some pens from a San Francisco mug by the computer. "We can sit over here."
I guided them to a small round table and chairs to the side of the room, slightly hidden by a display of bouquets. Sitting on the edge of my seat I pulled out an order form then flipped to example photos as they sat down across from me.
"We can customize however you want." I turned the binder toward them and pulled cap off my pen. "Will the flowers for Friday be for the viewing?" We get orders for funerals too often. I've found being truthful and pragmatic is the best way to go.
"A wake." Kane corrected.
I nodded, "If there is going to be a displayed photo we can make a wreath." I pointed to the example photo. "To match the arrangements."
Kane nodded. "That would be nice." His voice was quiet, the grief evident on both their faces as my words made the death feel real.
I began writing on the order form. "Would you like the traditional roses and babies breath or prefer another flower?"
"That's fi-"
"Bluebells." Viper cut Kane off. "She loved bluebells."
The beginnings of a smile tugged at the edges of Kane's mouth. "Those the ones growing in her front yard?"
Viper nodded.
"Yeah. She loves those."
I felt a tug on my heart at these two surly bikers knowing a woman they cared for favorite flower.
Gently I put the order form in front of them. "I've never done bluebells for a funeral get to work on this and I'll see what I can do."
Kane picked up a pen. "Thank you."
Going to the back of the display room I pulled out the little bunch of bluebells we had in stock. Then I collected red roses and babies breath to see how the looked together.
Setting them on the counter I began putting together a small arrangement in my hand, careful not to push on the thorns.
Listening to them discuss what to order as I worked. The bluebells with the red roses and babies breath was pretty, but bushy the roses were overbearing to the bluebells.
Not appropriate for a funeral or a proper tribute to a woman who loved such a beautiful flower. Setting the flowers down I looked at my display of fresh cuttings picturing different arrangements in my head.
"How many arrangements are needed for a wake?" Kane asked from across the room.
I stepped to the vases, my hands getting wet as I pulled out flowers from their water. "Besides the portrait wreaths I usually recommend one per room. People usually gift the family with their own flowers and it can get crowded sometimes."
Back at the counter I put together a quick arrangement of white roses and lilies sprinkled with the bluebells and babies breath. It was beautiful, graceful, subtle, the bluebells speaking of a vibrant full life. I hoped it would be an appropriate tribute to a grieving family.
Walking back over to the two men I gingerly held out the bouquet. Still slightly uncomfortable discussing flowers with dangerous bikers. Funeral or not. "Will this do?"
Viper swallowed looking at the bouquet and nodded. Kane looked from it to me, meeting my eyes one again. "They're perfect."
Sitting down Kane filled out one more line and passed the form back to me. Shocked I read over it. Every section meticulously filled out in precise writing. It normally took a while for people to fill this out.
"Okay. And will this be pick up our delivery?"
"Delivery." Kane said. I kept my eyes on the forms as he filled out the delivery form. Between him and Viper I was constantly being stared at and it made me uncomfortable.
"When will they be needed by on Friday?"
"Early as possible." Viper answered. "Irish wakes go all day."
I nodded in thought, pen tapping. "I don't keep many bluebells in the store I will have to rush order them which will up your cost. But I can get it done."
Kane looked me in the eyes again and I swear my heart nearly stopped at the appraising look he gave me. "That's fine." He passed the order form to me as they stood. "Thank you."
Then they were gone. Revving of motorcycles taking them away. Leaving me with a pounding heart and short of breath.