The thorn in my side

The morning sun filtered through the shop's wide windows, casting a golden glow on the blooms that lined the shelves. Normally, this was my favorite part of the day—the calm before the hustle, when the scent of roses and eucalyptus mingled in the air, and the city outside was just beginning to stir.

But today, I felt on edge.

It wasn't the usual worries about inventory or rent. No, it was the knowledge that Lorenzo Hayes would be walking through my door any minute now.

Right on cue, the bell above the door jingled.

"Morning," Lorenzo said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet like a sharp knife.

"Morning," I replied without looking up, determined to keep my tone neutral.

He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. Today, he was wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. The man looked more like he belonged in a GQ spread than my humble little flower shop, and I hated that I even noticed.

"Do you always come in so early?" I asked, glancing at him as I snipped the stems of a bouquet.

"Do you always start work at the crack of dawn?" he countered, his tone as dry as ever.

I bit back a retort and focused on the flowers. Lorenzo didn't just walk into my shop—he commandeered the space. He set his leather briefcase on the consultation table, took out a notebook, and immediately started scribbling notes.

"What are you writing now?" I asked, more curious than I wanted to admit.

"Observations," he replied without looking up.

I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess—'Owner is stubborn, resistant to change, and obsessed with peonies.'"

That earned me a smirk. "You forgot 'prone to dramatics.'"

*****

The morning dragged on with Lorenzo shadowing me like a storm cloud. He followed me as I rearranged displays, made notes on the types of customers that walked in, and even criticized the placement of my "Buy One, Get One  Free" sign.

"Do you think that's the most effective way to advertise a sale?" he asked, pointing to the handwritten sign I'd taped to the counter.

"It's clear, isn't it?"

"Clear, yes. Eye-catching, no."

I turned to face him, my hands on my hips. "I don't need flashy gimmicks to sell flowers. My customers come here because they love what I create, not because of some neon sign."

"Loyal customers are great," Lorenzo said, leaning against the counter, "but they're not enough to sustain long-term growth. You need new customers. And to get them, you need better marketing."

"I thought you were here to observe, not give me a marketing lecture."

"I'm multitasking."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You know, for someone who claims to be a businessman, you sure don't understand that not everything is about numbers. This shop is personal. It's not just a business to me."

His expression softened, just for a moment. "I understand that more than you think."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. I didn't know how to respond, so I went back to arranging the roses in front of me, my cheeks heating under his gaze.

*****

Right before lunch, chaos struck.

"Lila!" my part-time employee, Sophie, burst through the back door, her face pale. "The delivery for the Henderson wedding—half the flowers are missing!"

"What?" I dropped the clippers I was holding. "How is that possible?"

"The supplier said there was a mix-up with the order. They're trying to fix it, but they can't get the replacements here until tomorrow."

I stared at her, my mind racing. The wedding was tonight. I didn't have time to wait for another delivery.

"I'll call around," I said, grabbing my phone. "Maybe one of the other florists in town can help."

"You won't find what you need on such short notice," Lorenzo said, his tone matter-of-fact.

I glared at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm just being realistic," he said, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—determination, maybe? "What do you need?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because if this shop fails, my investment fails. So, what do you need?"

I hesitated, torn between annoyance and desperation. Finally, I relented. "White hydrangeas, pink garden roses, and greenery. A lot of it."

He nodded, pulling out his phone. "Give me ten minutes."

I didn't know what he was doing, but I didn't have time to question it. I started calling every florist I could think of, but as Lorenzo had predicted, no one had the stock I needed.

Then, twenty minutes later, Lorenzo walked back into the shop, his phone pressed to his ear.

"It's handled," he said, hanging up.

"What's handled?"

"I called a supplier I know. They're sending a truck with everything you need. It'll be here in an hour."

I stared at him, stunned. "How did you—"

"Don't ask questions," he said, cutting me off. "Just be ready to work when it gets here."

*****

The flowers arrived right on time, and the next two hours were a blur of activity. Sophie and I worked frantically to arrange the bouquets, while Lorenzo—shockingly—rolled up his sleeves and helped wherever he could.

"Hold this," I said, shoving a vase of roses into his hands.

He took it without complaint, his focus sharp as he watched me work.

"You're surprisingly decent at this," I admitted grudgingly.

"Don't sound so shocked," he said with a faint smirk.

By the time we finished, the shop looked like a whirlwind had blown through, but the arrangements were perfect.

"Thank you," I said quietly as we loaded the last of the bouquets into the delivery van.

Lorenzo glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "You don't need to thank me. Just remember this the next time you're about to accuse me of being useless."

*****

After the wedding chaos, I decided to close the shop early. Sophie headed home, and I started cleaning up, too tired to think about much else.

"You should eat something," Lorenzo said, breaking the silence.

"I'll eat later," I replied without looking up.

"You'll eat now."

I turned to see him holding two takeout containers, his expression completely serious.

"Did you order food?" I asked, surprised.

"Consider it an investment in keeping you from passing out."

I didn't have the energy to argue, so I sat down at the consultation table, opening the container to find a steaming bowl of pasta.

We ate in silence for a while, the tension from earlier in the day slowly easing.

"You were impressive today," Lorenzo said suddenly.

I looked up at him, startled. "What?"

"During the wedding crisis. You didn't panic. You handled it."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Thanks. But I couldn't have done it without you."

"True," he said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in his tone made it impossible to stay annoyed.

As we finished eating, I found myself studying Lorenzo. There was something different about him tonight—something almost... human.

"Why do you care so much about this shop?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "I care about potential. I see it everywhere. In people, in businesses... in you."

The way he said it made my chest tighten. I wasn't sure if I wanted to thank him or run away.

"This place means everything to me," I said softly. "It's not just a business. It's my home."

"I know," he said. "And I'm not trying to take that away from you. I'm just trying to help you keep it."

For the first time, I believed him.

*****

By the time Lorenzo left for the night, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and hope.

As much as he drove me crazy, there was no denying that Lorenzo Hayes was changing the way I looked at my little flower shop—and maybe even at myself.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.