The charming man outside the florist was his own best advertisement, but would attraction blossom into romance?
BY CARRIE HEWLETT
FICTION
Thinking back, it had all started on the number 77 bus. And that had been an accident as Rowan normally caught the 79, but for some reason the 77 turned up first.
It was lucky in a way that both buses went roughly in the same direction, but the 77 took a more roundabout route past the shops on the High Street which she hadn’t visited – shame on her – in ages. And that’s when she’d seen him.
The bus had pulled in just short of the flower shop and everyone had smiled and pointed at the young man, about Rowan’s age, proffering a red rose to the ladies walking past.
“How romantic,” a middle-aged woman sitting next to Rowan commented. “And a good advertisement for the place, too. I wish my husband was more like that, but the best I can hope for on Valentine’s Day is a card with his name scribbled inside.”
Rowan smiled politely as she glanced out of the window, her attention having been on her book. That’s when their eyes had met and she’d felt her breath catch.
He wasn’t the kind of handsome that made girls swoon. Did anyone swoon these days? Probably not. His nose was slightly crooked, and he had a bit of a lopsided smile – one that looked almost cheeky and mischievous.
But it was his eyes that captured her attention; eyes that reminded her of hot cocoa on a cold day.
And he was looking directly at her.
He smiled, offering her a red rose, gave a small bow making her grin, then looked crestfallen as the bus drove off.
“You’ll have to go and pay him a visit.” The lady patted her arm. “After all, it’s only two weeks until Valentine’s Day and you never turn down a red rose from a good-looking young man.
“It’s lovely around here; I often visit the greengrocer as he’s so friendly.
“Not like the folk in large supermarkets. And, after all, we have to keep our independent small businesses going, don’t we?”
Rowan murmured a response, her head still swirling with thoughts about the man’s dark brown eyes and the way he’d looked at her. Realising her stop was fast approaching, she bid the lady farewell and stood up.
Over the next few days, Rowan’s thoughts kept returning to the man. But just because they’d exchanged a look didn’t mean that he was interested in her, did it? After all, he must have given r
