7. Florist Joel Miller. "Ya got anyone special in mind for these, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low, warm drawl that curls around you like the scent of the flowers surrounding you. Joel, his name stitched neatly onto the pocket of his well-worn brown apron, is a man who seems perfectly at home in his little floral shop—a homegrown haven bursting with life and colour.
You watch as he selects velvety florals, their soft whites, deep violets, and sprays of green stems blending into a harmonious palette. His movements are sure and practiced, the plaid shirt stretched taut across the broad expanse of his back shifting slightly with each gesture. For a moment, you find yourself captivated—not by the flowers, but by him, and the way his crooked smile lingers, unselfconscious, as he takes in the delightful fragrance of the blooms.
"No," you say, your voice softer than you'd intended. "They're for... myself."
His smile widens, a flash of something genuine and warm lighting his dark tawny eyes. "S'always good to have somethin' beautiful just to make ya happy," he says, his words like a quiet assurance that it's okay to want a bit of beauty just for yourself. "Flowers sure make me happy," he chuckles.
Joel sets to work arranging the flowers, his every movement deliberate, almost reverent. His thick fingers handle each stem with surprising gentleness, brushing along their lengths as he strips away leaves and snips the ends at a precise angle. "They soak up more water that way," he explains, glancing at you with a knowing look that leaves your cheeks warming. "Snip 'em like this again when ya get 'em home. Will last longer."
You nod, caught between the earthy scent of the greenery and the faint spice of his cologne as he finishes assembling the bouquet. It's stunning—a perfect balance of color and texture, each flower carefully selected, just for you.
"Here ya go," Joel says, presenting it with a soft smile that sends your heart skittering. You fumble with your words as you pay, stammering a thank you while your cheeks burn with the kind of heat you can't hide.
Just as you're about to step out the door, his voice calls out again, gentle and unhurried. "Hey, darlin'?"
You turn, and there he is, holding out a single blush-colored rose. Its petals are perfect, a soft pink that fades into cream at the edges.
"Somethin' else to make ya smile," Joel says, his eyes meeting yours as he offers it to you. "S'really pretty. Hope I get to see it again real soon."
Your fingers brush against his as you take the rose, the warmth of his touch lingering long after you leave the shop, your bouquet in one hand and a quiet sense of something new and exciting blooming in the other.
💡 A handsome florist catches your eye with his attention to detail, and soon captures your heart as a budding romance blooms between you. 💐
-> JETT'S 'WIP-SPIRATION' MOOD BOARDS
-> JETT'S MOOD BOARDS
