Page 30 of Melting for the Firefighter
I carry buckets and watch her become completely herself.
No hesitation.
No apology.
She knows what she is doing, and everyone around her knows it too.
At the register, the owner smiles at us.
“Founder’s Day flowers are donated. Ribbon and supplies come to one hundred forty-three dollars.”
Cora reaches for her purse.
I hand over my card.
“Lance.”
“You can pay me from Saturday’s sales.”
“I can pay now.”
“With what?”
Her cheeks flush.
Wrong move.
The question came out harder than I meant it to.
I lower my voice.
“Let me help.”
“You already saved my life and gave me your bed.”
“Neither came with a bill.”
The greenhouse owner becomes deeply interested in the receipt printer.
Cora looks at my card, then at me.
“First sales on Saturday.”
“Deal.”
“You two are sweet,” the owner says.
Cora turns pink.
I take the receipt.
“Yeah.”
Her gaze snaps to mine.
I pick up the supplies and carry them outside before I say something I cannot take back.
By evening, my kitchen has disappeared beneath even more flowers.
