The Flower Shop: Episode 4

Time for another episode of The Flower Shop! This week’s episode is in TWO PARTS. When you get to the bottom, make sure you click the number 2 to go to the next page and read the rest. Let’s see what’s going on this week with Rhonda and Peter!

When Peter Ross returns to upstate New York, his plan is to sell his grandfather’s hardware store and return to life in the city. But a chance meeting with his old girlfriend Rhonda Jefferson makes him second guess his decision, and wonder about what could have been. 

Genre: Contemporary Interracial

Trope: Second chance

Heat level: Sensual

Rhonda looked amazing.

Peter stared in open admiration as she stepped onto the porch and joined him. She wore a burgundy top that crossed over her breasts, tapered tan pants, and low-heeled sandals.

Strategically applied makeup highlighted her almond shaped eyes and elongated her lashes. Her skin was an even russet-brown with a hint of color that emphasized her cheekbones, and her lips… well, they beckoned with an enticing shade of red that brought attention to their curvy fullness. 

As if that wasn’t enough, she damn near took his breath away when she smiled up at him. She looked so good he felt underdressed in the white shirt and jeans he wore, but his clothing options were limited since he hadn’t planned on going on any dates while in town.

“You look incredible,” Peter couldn’t help saying.

“Thank you,” she replied, fingers smoothing a strand of hair from her cheek. Her hair was still parted in the middle, but waves added volume and texture to the shiny strands framing her face. 

Rhonda turned and locked the door with her key, and Peter let his gaze drop to her waist, hips, and generous behind. He gulped. He used to find it hard to keep his hands off her, but now her more womanly figure would make it downright impossible. 

“Did you make a decision on where we’re going?” she asked.

“I decided not to do the typical thing and go to a restaurant for dinner. Thought we should have a little more fun.”

“Oh?” Curiosity filled her brown eyes.

“I thought we could go to Orchard Park. Miss Jean said they still have live music on Friday nights.” 

“They do.”

“Tonight’s musicians play R&B and soul. Is that okay with you?” Listening to local and visiting bands at Orchard Park used to be one of their favorite pastimes. 

“It’s okay with me, except… I thought I’d be getting dinner, so I didn’t eat anything.”

“You’re still getting dinner. I asked Miss Jean to pack a meal for us, and she was kind enough to provide a blanket that we can spread on the grass. We’ll just chill and relax and listen to music.” Like old times, he silently added. 

“You have everything all figured out,” Rhonda said, her voice teasing.

“Always.” He smiled at her. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m the one whose father was in the military and should have been the one scheduling events with military precision, but you were always good about planning activities for us. And did not like when I was running late.” 

Peter chuckled, pleased she had remembered the care he took in putting together itineraries for each date. He wanted her to enjoy the moments and not have to worry about anything. 

“Would you believe I’ve gotten worse? My staff at the bank hates me.” 

“You don’t say. I’m shocked.” She laughed as they walked down the porch steps.

Peter took her hand in his, and she looked up at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. Her hands were soft, and immediately heat suffused his palm and wound its way up his entire arm. He rubbed his thumb along hers, chest tightening as he gazed down at her, and regret hit him hard with full force. 

He shouldn’t have let anger keep them apart. 

No one had compared to Rhonda in all these years. Few women understood his quirky sense of humor or his rigid need to always be on time and stick to schedules. Maybe after they talked tonight, something new could start between them. He certainly hoped so.

Peter guided her to his midnight blue BMW parked in the driveway. After she settled in the seat, he went around to the driver side and backed into the street. 

The park was only six minutes from Rhonda’s house, and when they arrived, Peter parked on the street. He removed the picnic basket from the backseat and clutched the rolled blanket under one arm. Walking side-by-side, they stepped onto the grass and made their way to the gazebo, where a small band was setting up. As they trudged across the grass, all around them were townsfolk. Some on blankets with pillows and food. Others brought folding tables and chairs and sipped wine as if they were in a fine dining restaurant. 

“Peter Ross, is that you?” a former male teacher asked with a wide grin.

“It’s me.” 

They paused to chat, and at the end of the conversation, the teacher said, “Good to see you, son. Keep him out of trouble, Rhonda.”

“I will,” she said with a laugh. 

They were interrupted two more times before they found a spot in the grass to settle. 

Peter used to hate living in a community where faces were always familiar and everyone knew your business. The anonymity of living in a big city where no one paid attention to you had been appealing. But right now, greeting people—even if he couldn’t remember their names—was a welcome difference from Manhattan. There, he seldom saw the same people, even in the building where he worked, and smiling at strangers made you a weirdo. In Fountain Springs, people didn’t have to know your name to be friendly.

“Is that Linda over there?” Peter asked once they were seated on the blanket with the basket between them. 

Rhonda nodded. “Sure is.”

“Who’s the guy with her?” He started taking out the dishes covered with foil.

“That’s Jason, her husband.”

Peter frowned. “What happened to the other guy… uh, what was his name?”

“Taylor. They got divorced, he moved to another town, and then she married Jason.”

“Thought they’d be together forever.”

“So did everyone else. She has a couple of kids—one with Taylor and two with Jason.” 

“I don’t recognize Jason.” His eyes lingered on the other man.

“He didn’t go to school with us. He grew up in Dorchester.”

“Oh.”

Much of the conversation continued like that as the band warmed up. Rhonda caught him up on the local gossip and news, and he was happy for the distraction. In all honesty he wasn’t ready to delve into the more serious conversation they needed to have. He liked to think of this moment as the warm up—the prequel before the piping hot conversation got started.

The food Miss Jean prepared was delicious. Using her homemade meatloaf, she made meatloaf sandwiches on thick bread. She also packed potato salad, whole fruit for snacking, delicious iced tea, and raspberry crumb bars for dessert.

“This is so good,” Rhonda said. She sat with her legs curled beside her, the plate on the blanket. She spiked a potato chunk with her fork and placed it in her mouth. “Mmm.” 

“I’ve been getting spoiled at her place,” Peter said, before biting into his sandwich.

“You haven’t learned to cook yet?” Rhonda asked, amusement lighting up her eyes.

Damn, she was gorgeous.

With a rueful smile, Peter shook his head. “I spend a shitload on takeout.” 

“Sometimes I eat Sunday dinner at the bed-and-breakfast,” Rhonda admitted. 

“You used to love to cook. You don’t cook anymore?” 

“I do, but you know, cooking for one isn’t always practical, and eating alone isn’t as enjoyable as sitting around the table at Miss Jean’s and chatting with her guests.”

The thought of Rhonda sitting in her house, eating alone, didn’t sit well with Peter. She should have company. Every night.

“You’re not dating anyone?” He asked the question with trepidation and waited anxiously for her answer. 

She gave him a one shoulder shrug. “I’ve dated, but I’m currently going through a dry spell.” She dropped her gaze and picked up her sandwich. “What about you?” 

“Same. Can’t seem to get a handle on the dating scene. The women… I don’t know. They don’t work out for various reasons.”

Silence settled between them, but the constant chatter of people nearby drifted on the air. 

“Do you always find something wrong with them, that makes the relationship not worth the effort?” Rhonda spoke quietly. 

Peter nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from her face. “Something like that. There’s always something missing or something that’s never quite enough. As if…”

She lifted her gaze to his. “As if they don’t…  measure up?” Her question ended on a whisper, as if she were afraid to ask the question.

“Yeah. That’s exactly it,” Peter answered.

Rhonda lifted the plastic cup to her lips and sipped her iced tea. He could watch her all night—eat, drink, talk, smile. Everything she did was attention-getting.

“Hellooooo, Fountain Springs!” 

The lead singer of the band yelled into the microphone, and Peter reluctantly shifted his attention to the gazebo. 

“Hello!” the crowd yelled back. Scattered claps and cheers filled the air. 

In the past, Peter and Rhonda used to sit much closer, with nothing between them, and eventually he would slip an arm around her, and she’d settle against him. Other times, she’d lean back on her hands, and he’d rest his head on her lap. Then she’d trace his eyebrows and play in his hair, her fingers gentle and loving.

Peter missed that. He wanted her touch again. Her kisses. The warm softness of her body pressed against his. Instead, he sat quietly beside Rhonda as he ate and listened to the band play. 

Not close enough to put an arm around her and draw her against him, but close enough to smell her perfume. For now, that was enough, because for the first time in a long time, he was utterly and completely content.