Thorned Embrace, page 1
By
Raine Winters
Copyright © 2024 by Raine Winters
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Thorned Embrace
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Email: Contact@RaineWinters.com
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To those who believe in the power of love's unexpected blossoming, and to the dreamers who find beauty in every petal.
CHAPTER ONE
SETTING DOWN MY pruning shears, I take a step back to survey my work. On the counter before me is a sea of green, punctuated with splashes of red, pink, orange, and white. The bouquets are perfect. Each flower is meticulously positioned with the flawless balance of greenery surrounding them. In each bouquet, the assortment of flowers is distinct, showcasing a unique blend of colors and scents.
With one finger, I point to each vase, mentally counting to ensure I have all of my orders completed for tomorrow’s pickup time. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Wait.
I glance around the countertop and check the shelves beside me.
There should be twelve.
Crap. How did I forget one?
Peeking over my shoulder, I check the clock on the wall. Fifteen more minutes until closing. I shift on my aching feet, picking my shears back up. I know that I’m the boss, and I could technically cut out early and finish this last order in the morning. But that is not the type of business owner I am. If my hours say I’m open, I’m here.
So even though I’d much rather shut down the shop and go to bed, I pull out another vase from beneath the counter and start again.
Glancing at the invoice sheet, I check over what I’ve already made and locate the missing order. I step over to the cold storage container and pull a dozen roses from its chilly depths. Carefully, I examine each one, inspecting for defects or flaws before I form the bouquet. Ensuring the perfection of each flower is what I’m known for. Each bouquet must be as exceptional as the woman it’s being given to.
Soft music floats through the shop. It’s easy to lose myself in the design. The room fades away, leaving only the flowers in my hands and the creativity buzzing in my fingers. There is nothing more freeing than losing yourself in a task you love.
A small jingle of bells rings through the air as the door opens. The sound startles me, and the thorned stem I am holding slices into my palm. I force a string of curse words to stay behind my teeth and reach for a tissue.
“Come on in, I’ll be right with you.” I call out across the room without glancing up.
Footsteps echo through the space as the customer makes their way towards the counter. I can tell it’s a man by the thud of his dress shoes on the hardwood floor. The footsteps approach and I raise my head just as they stop in front of me.
“What can I help you-.” The words stick in my throat as I take in the man standing before me. He stares down at me with warm hazel eyes. His brown hair is shaved closed to the skin, leaving it longer at the top, tousled and pushed to the side. His facial features are defined, with a strong jawline and a defined nose.
My eyes narrow, an aggravated sigh escapes my lips.
The corner of his mouth tips up in delight. My irritation only seems to amuse him.
I do not have time for this.
For him.
The man standing on the other side of the counter is my polar opposite in every way. His designer suit and freshly polished shoes scream corporate business “yes” man. Even though the air outside still clings to winter, behind the counter I stand in a purple sundress and sandals.
His tight laced business executive exterior offends my inner hippy vibes.
My heart skips a beat even as annoyance rips through me. “Aiden.”
His smirk grows wider at the exasperation in my voice. “Did you miss me that much?”
I roll my eyes. Could he be any more full of himself?
This man gets under my skin in a way no one else can, and I think he knows that. I can’t go a week without him coming into my shop with a list of items for an event. As a business owner, I can’t complain, but as a woman I feel fully entitled to complain as much as I want about this aggravatingly handsome man.
“I’m about to close up.” I’m trying to be polite but my meaning is clear.
Say what you need to say and get out.
I turn my eyes back to my work, being careful to keep my fingers pressed against the cut on my palm.
“You always have time for your favorite client.” I can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at him.
I wouldn’t call Aiden Cole my favorite client, so I ignore him, turning the conversation back to business. “What are you working on now?”
Aiden’s skills as an event planner are unmatched. His exquisite eye for detail always leaves his customers delighted and eager to recommend him to their friends. As one business owner to another, I respected him.
Even if I didn’t like him.
He doesn’t answer me, so I glare up at him through my lashes. His eyes almost sparkle, and I know he is waiting for me to guess. But I’m not the type of girl to play games to get answers to my questions.
“Out with it, Aiden.” I snap, my irritation growing. “Who’s the client?”
“Spencer Grant and Abby Stephens.” He raises an eyebrow at me expectantly.
My stomach does a nervous somersault. This could only mean one thing. They are getting married. I haven’t heard this news through our town’s gossip tree, so it has to be a secret still. My heart thuds in my chest, and my nails tap nervously on the countertop. “Are you serious?”
He nods his head before reaching inside the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a bundle of papers. He unfolds it, revealing a contract. Sliding it across the counter, he turns it towards me.
I stare at it, my eyes fixed on the florist selected for the event. Lilly Lane.
“They picked me.” My words are breathless, and I can’t believe what I am seeing. This one contract would pay my bills for the rest of the year. My business isn’t struggling per se, thanks to Aiden, but this one event would change everything.
“Who else would they pick?” He sounds incredulous.
He’s acting like I was the only logical choice when I know I’m far from it. I’m a small business owner with no reputation. I’m a risk.
I find myself even more grateful for his business than usual. “How can I ever thank you?”
Setting my shears down, I ignore the flutters of anxiety racing through my stomach.
I am so happy I could jump across the counter and hug him. But this is Aiden, so I won’t be doing that. Despite his striking appearance, he is still the most irritating person I’ve ever met.
“Your work speaks for itself.” He gives a nod to the vases littering the countertop as if that says everything.
Just when my stare softens, he smirks, adding, “But I’m sure we can think of something.”
Without thinking, I laugh, punching him playfully on the shoulder with my injured hand.
When he notices me flinch, his expression turns serious. “Are you okay?”
Glancing up at him, concern wrinkles his brow as he takes in my fisted hand.
I nod, shifting on the balls of my feet. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
I hurt myself all the time. One thorn prick is nothing new to me.
Before I can stop him, he reaches out, grabbing my wrist to pull it closer to him. I stand on my tiptoes just to keep from toppling onto the counter. “What are you doing?”
I try to tug free, but his hand grips my wrist, holding me in place. “You’re hurt, Lilly.”
My resistance fades away at the sound of my name. With gentle fingers, he loosens my grip on the tissue. When he sees the small dot of blood on my palm, the crease in his brow disappears. He takes knowing steps around the counter to where I keep my first aid kit.
My eyes follow him in question. “How did you know where that was?”
A grunt rumbles through his chest as he sets the first aid kit on the counter. “I pay attention.”
Holding out a hand, he waits for me to place my hand back into his willingly. Heat surges through my skin where his fingers press against me. The sensation is foreign. Despite the temptation to pull away again, I manage to resist. Astonishment fills me, the heat transforming into a pleasant tingling. I glance at him, watching for any reaction that he is experiencing the same thing.
His hazel eyes soften as he inspects my hand, turning it back and forth in the soft light. I can’t help but watch his face as he works. The task before him consumes all of his attention. He doesn’t even notice that I’m watching him.
With practiced hands, he cleans the wound. Once he’s satisfied, he places a bandage on it. He presses gently, ensuring it stays in place.
I cough as I pull my hand away, tucking it behind my back. Even hidden safely from view, phantom tingles linger where his skin held mine. “Thanks.”
He shrugs, not saying anything as he reassembles the k
The fog from his touch vanishes, remembering why we are here. The contract. “It’s going to be the biggest wedding our town has seen in years.”
Nodding my head, I feel the weight of my insecurities. I know better than anyone what I am capable of, so I push them aside, determined to stay focused. “I’m in.”
“Good.” Turning away from me, he rounds the counter in two broad steps. “I’ll have my assistant send over all the details. We will need to work closely on this. Everything has to be perfect.”
My stomach twists at the thought of spending so much time together, but I force myself to agree. “Of course.”
I understand more than anyone how important this wedding is. Not only will it help my flower shop, but it will make Aiden the most sought after event planner for years to come. Which is saying something, considering how popular he already is.
My heart thrums in my chest at the prospects this would bring. I could expand my operation, hire my own employees, and grow more of my own flowers. An image of what things could be forms in my mind, and a seed of hope plants itself in my chest.
Aiden nods his head at me, silently indicating our business for the evening is over. I mimic the motion, eager with the same sentiment for the day to end.
He turns, making his way towards the exit. I follow him to lock up for the night.
Just as he reaches the door, he turns to speak, but I stop mid-step, my attention no longer on him. Bending down, I pick up a neatly folded piece of paper from the floor.
“What is it?” He asks, as I turn the paper over with one hand.
Without thinking, I flip up the top of the page, and my eyes run down its length. “It’s a letter.”
I realize my mistake as a blush creeps up my neck. My eyes continue down the page of their own accord. I know I should stop, but I can’t. The author’s words draw me in, painting a picture of love and devotion with each elegant stroke of his pen.
Lowering the letter, I stare up at Aiden in wide-eyed surprise.
His hand pauses on the doorknob before it drops to his side. His face is neutral, but I can feel the hesitation in his movements. He makes his way back towards me, running one hand through his hair.
“Is it yours?” I hold the letter out to him, tentatively offering for him to take it.
I stare down at the letter beneath my fingertips and watch as he reaches out for it. He takes the letter, his fingers grazing mine. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through my body. He stares at it for a moment. His skin pales a shade before he shakes his head. “No, it’s not mine.”
I wrack my brain, trying to recall who might have dropped the letter on the floor, but only the delivery driver stopped by after lunch. Since Charlie is married with two kids, I can’t imagine that he wrote a letter about the woman he’s pining after.
Aiden hands the letter back to me, and I immediately open it again, scanning the scrawling writing once more. When I speak, my words are a whisper. “We have to find him.”
The need to find the author fills me in a way I can’t describe. I don’t consciously decide to find him. It’s almost as if an unknown force is urging me forward.
Aiden watches me, his eyes going wide. “Find who?”
“The man who wrote this letter.” I say it like it’s obvious.
Aiden stares at me like I’ve grown three heads, and maybe I have, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to do this.
I run my fingers over the words again, enjoying the way the indentations feel where he pressed too hard. In his writing, what he describes is the love that every woman dreams of - all-consuming, unconditional, and eternal. She deserves to know this letter is out there waiting for her.
Folding the letter, I place it in my apron pocket. “I’m going to make sure this letter gets back to its owner.”
I stare at him as an unknown emotion flits through me. “Will you help me?”
Our gazes lock, and Aiden’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want my help?”
I can’t ignore the equal sense of shock that courses through me. Why am I asking someone I don’t even like to help me? It doesn’t even make sense to me.
I jokingly glance around the space as if there might be someone else here, before I turn back to him and smirk. “Yes, you.”
It feels right asking for Aiden’s help, even if I don’t fully understand why. He was with me when I found the letter. It’s only right that he should help me locate the author.
He stares at me for a long moment, searching my eyes. When he finally speaks, a spark lights in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll help.”
I can’t stop the smile that lights my face. Aiden turns, nodding his head to me once more before he disappears out the door and into the night.
I lock it behind him, and my hand finds the letter stowed away in my pocket. Something shifts inside me. Maybe I was meant to find this letter. Maybe I can bring these two people together, in a way that no one else can.
CHAPTER TWO
THE PAPER CRINKLES in my hand as I unfold the letter for the dozenth time tonight. It’s been three days since I found this letter on the floor of my shop, and I am no closer to finding the author now than I was three days ago. The only lead I have to follow is the paper I hold in my hands. That thought leaves me feeling hopeless.
I run the tips of my fingers across the page as I read, feeling the changes of the writing with each curve of his pen. My eyes follow the strokes of the words I have all but memorized.
My Stargazer,
It’s 3am, and sleep evades me.
Every time I close my eyes, you are all I see.
Brown hair falling in soft waves across sun kissed skin.
Green eyes that transport me to a garden bursting with life.
I want to dream of holding you in my arms,
Of making that garden a reality.
You are too fierce and independent to be held down by a man like me.
Regardless, you will always hold my heart.
Please take care of it until I return to claim it.
See you soon
Each word warms my heart, pulling me to a place I’ll never be. In love.
I glance down at the words again, trying to memorize each curve of the man’s handwriting. It’s my only clue to who he might be.
I run one hand through my hair, a frustrated groan forcing its way from my lips. I have never faced a more perplexing challenge than the one before me.
The thought of hiring a hand writing analyst comes to mind just as my laptop dings on the bed beside me. With a sigh, I place the letter on my nightstand. The mystery author and his love will have to wait.
Rolling onto my side, I reach for my laptop and slide it over. I minimize my Pinterest board of flower arrangements for Abby’s wedding planning and open my email. My eyes widen in surprise when I see what’s waiting for me.
I’ve been waiting for two days for an update on when we were meeting with the clients since receiving the official contract from Aiden’s assistant, Jessica.
I just can’t believe he emailed me himself. Every correspondence we’ve had in the past, though email, has gone directly through Jessica.
I can’t deny, I prefer things that way. Working with her is just easier.
Rolling my eyes, I’m tempted to slam my laptop shut. I want nothing more in this moment than to wipe that self-satisfied smirk he always wears off his face.
Something about the way Aiden comes across in his email sets me on edge. He stood in my shop earlier this week as if we’d both gotten the best news, and now tomorrow would be a “test run.”
Annoyance fills me and my fingers buzz with an electricity that needs to be released. Who does he think he is? He knows my work better than any client I’ve ever worked for.
Pulling the laptop towards me, I hit reply.
With a hard click of my finger, I hit send. Let’s see what Mr. Cole thinks of that.
A smile tilts the corner of my lips. Being passive aggressive isn’t normally my style, but I want to make a point to Aiden that I am here at our clients’ request. There had to be a reason they chose me, and I was going to make sure they never regretted that decision.
