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He walks by her flower shop every day at 7:15 am. His head is tilted down as he listens to whatever is on his iPod that morning, mouthing the words and nodding his head to the music. He never sees her, but she sees him, because she just so happens to be watering the hydrangeas by the front window at that time. Every morning.
It takes him about 15 steps to cross in front of her window, and then he’s at the bookstore he owns next door. It’s a quaint place – she’s never been there, but it looks quaint from the outside – selling half priced books of every genre. It seems to generate enough business, though, because she sees lots of customers come into the flower shop with “Jones Books” bags filled with used novels and stories.
--
It’s a Tuesday when he glances up the first time. She’s watering the hydrangeas, just like normal, secretly spying on her crush when he looks up through the window. Her heart starts pounding, and she knows she’s putting too much water in the purple flowers, but she’s never seen his blue eyes before, and it’s something of a shock to her.
He gives some sort of half grin as he waves with his right hand before taking the last three steps to pass her window, and he’s gone.
She blinks, raises the jaw that she didn’t know had dropped, and does her best to pour some of the overflowing water back into the watering can.
--
She’s tending to an orchid that’s slightly wilting when she hears the doorbell chime, and she shouts from her spot, “Be there in a moment!”
“Take your time, lass. I’ll just browse.”
She tries to figure out where this man's accent is from while finishes what she’s doing, placing a stick beside the purple flower and tying it with some yarn, then taking a slight step back to see if it turned out okay. She admires her work for a moment before rubbing her hands on her green apron and turning around.
A single man is in the corner, looking at some tulips. She walks over to him and starts to introduce herself when she sees who it is.
Her neighbor next door.
She shakes her head, as if erasing an etch-a-sketch as she tries to find her voice. He turns slowly to look at her, giving that same smile he gave her almost a week ago.
“Uh, may I help you?” She asks, and she knows she's just stumbled over the words, but she still waits for him to reply.
“I must be honest, I don’t know much about flowers, and I want to woo a lass. Which flower should I choose?”
Her heart sinks slightly, knowing that his eye is on someone, although it's not at all surprising. She plasters on a smile and goes into work mode, guiding him to the rose section. “No woman will ever say no to a rose.”
“Aye, I suppose,” he leans forward and sniffs the rose, shaking his head as he seems to decide it’s not quite right. “I’m not sure about this one. Could you show me another?”
She nods her head as she brings him over to the irises. “These are pretty.”
He seems to inspect them again, and she sees the moment when he decides they’re not quite right. “I apologize, I don’t mean to be a tough customer. I just want to make sure I get the perfect flower.”
“No worries. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Tell me, lass, what is your favorite flower here?” He raises his hand and gestures around the room. “And I ask you not to deceive me into purchasing the most expensive flower. Just bring me to the ones you like to look at best.”
She laughs at his joke as she guides him over to a stand by the front counter. “These are the lilies we supply, and they’ve always been my favorite. Between you and me, I put them here so I can look at them throughout the day.” She turns to him. “As you can see from the price, they are far from the most expensive here.”
He walks around the table, takes a sniff, and touches the soft pedals. “You have a good eye, and a smart set up.” He shifts to face her. “I think she’ll like this very much. I’d like to purchase one, please.”
She smiles at him before turning towards the front counter. “Just pick the one you like best. I’ll be back with a vial of water for it.”
“Thank you,” he says as he begins to dig through the flowers again.
When she comes back, he has one in hand, and she gives him the vial to put on the edge of the stem. “Now, tell her that she needs to cut the bottom of the stem at an angle and place some of that white powder in this packet in the vase. That’s going to keep it alive the longest.”
“Thank you for the tip,” he says, and they both walk up to the counter. She goes to the other side and rings him up. He gives her the appropriate amount of cash, she gives him the appropriate amount of change, and he places the change in the tips jar.
She passes him back the flower, wrapped up and tied with a bow. “Have a good day, sir. I hope you come back with any more of your floral needs.”
“I surely will,” he says, reaching out his hand to shake hers. When she starts to turn away to go back to inspecting the flowers, he clears his throat and taps her shoulder.
“Yes?” she asks, pivoting until she’s facing him again.
“This is for you, milady.”
“What?”
He gives a grin and begins scratching behind his ear. “I bought this for you…”
“Oh,” she replies, stilling in shock, and the only thing she can do is merely stare at him.
He clears his throat again. “This is the part where you accept the lily and tell me your name.”
Her mouth forms a small smile as she reaches forward and takes the lily, putting it up to her nose and taking a breath in. “Emma. Emma Swan.”
“Well, Swan, I must get back to the bookstore. My name’s Killian, and I bid you a good day.”
She watches him take a few steps backwards, almost knocking into a table of violets over as he spins around to leave the shop, the little bells ringing on his way out.
She walks behind the counter and places the lily in a bud vase with water and the powder and sets it on display for the world to see.
She can’t help the smile on her face whenever her eyes look over in that direction, or that she goes behind the counter and takes a sniff every few minutes.
When she closes up shop at 6:00, she pulls on her coat, turns off the light, and takes the single lily with her as she leaves for the night.
--
She’s in the back of the shop, taking inventory when she hears the bell at the counter ding twice. She puts down her clipboard, stashed the pen behind her ear, and maneuvered her way out of the backroom to go help the customer.
As soon as she’s at the door, she stops in her tracks.
Killian is at the counter, holding a single lily in his right hand with a $10.00 bill in his left. He cocks his head as he smiles at her. “I’d like to purchase this lily.”
She hates to assume, but she can't help her smile as she tilts her head up. “Is that so?”
“Aye. I have a lovely lass I need to get this to.”
“Ah, what a lucky lady,” she says, taking the lily from him. She takes another vial of water and places it on the stem before taking his money and giving him change. She gives him the flower back. “Make sure you tell her to cut the stem in a diagonal and put the powder in as soon as she’s able to.”
He gives her a mischievous grin as he passes back the flower. “I think she knows how to take care of a flower. I’ve seen her do so in the past.”
She takes the lily from him and puts it up to her nose. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”
With just a nod of his head, he turns around and leaves the shop, ducking under the flower shop lettering on the window and waving as he goes back to his store.
--
“Back again, Mr. Jones?”
Killian goes straight to the lily table, inspecting all the flowers one by one until he’s found one he likes. “It takes more than two flowers to woo a girl.”
“How many does it take?” She asks as she takes the flower from him and places it in another vial of water.
“I’m not sure. I should be asking you,” he says as he passes over the ten.
She’s looking through the cashbox and making change. She smiles at him as she places the coins into his hand, gently brushing his fingers as she puts the lily there, too. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”
He takes one sniff of the flower before handing it right back to her. “For you, Swan.”
“Thank you.”
--
“These peonies are lovely!” An old woman says at the counter as she’s ringing her up. “My granddaughter is going to love it.”
She smiles at her. “They are very beautiful,” she says, passing her the red bouquet and powder packet. “Have a wonderful day, ma’am.”
The old lady wishes her a good day, too, and turns around to leave. As soon as she’s out of the way, Killian steps up with a lily in his hand. “The woman was right – peonies are lovely, but I’m quite taken with the lilies.”
“Are you, now?” she asks, taking the flower and ringing him up. “Just Monday you didn’t know what type of flower you liked best.”
He waves his hand. “That was Monday. Today’s Thursday. I’ve become quite knowledgeable in the subject since then.”
“Really? What do you know, then?”
“Well, I know that lilies symbolizes purity and refined beauty, and that this particular color of lily means modesty.”
“What else have you learned?”
“Hmm… There are thirteen types of lilies, and the specific type I purchase every day are the main lilies.”
“I’m impressed. You’ve done your research, Jones.”
“You find time when the store’s idle and have just ordered a new batch of flower guides.” He passes the lily back to her. “For you.”
As always, she takes a smell and smiles. “Thank you.”
--
He does this every day for eleven days, always having some sort of playful banter.
He starts to stay longer and longer in the store, lingering around just to talk with her, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say she takes extra time ringing him up and passing him the flower.
She forgot how much she likes flirting. It’s been such a long time since someone’s seemed interested in her, or that she was willing to open up for, that it’s nice. Plus, it’s easy with him. There’s never a moment of awkward shyness. If there’s ever silence, it’s merely because they’re too busy staring at each other to care about talking.
She looks forward to his visits every day, and he never disappoints.
--
On the twelfth, he marches up behind her and taps her on the shoulder. She turns around to see his face frowning.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, wiping her dirty hands on her green apron.
“There aren’t any lilies today!” He throws his hand towards the lily table, showing her that there are daffodils there, instead. He seems almost in a panic that they've been replaced.
“There was a funeral for the sheriff in the next town over. They cleaned out my whole stock.” She shrugs, looking at him in the eyes. “We’ll have more next Thursday, if you’d like to wait a few days.”
“I can’t bloody wait.” His voice cracks, and it feels like the air is being sucked out of her lungs. She didn’t realize he would be this disappointed when she sold the entire lot to the distressed woman purchasing them. She would have kept at least one if she had known this would be his reaction.
“Can I offer you another type of flower? We have some beautiful chrysanthemums over—”
He shakes his head, his face turned down and defeated. He begins scratching behind his ear before looking back into her eyes. “Thank you for your help today, but I should be getting back to the bookstore. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye, lass.”
“Goodbye,” she nearly whispers in disappointment as the door closes behind him.
--
When she walks to the front to turn the open sign to “closed”, she notices a folded piece of paper was slid underneath her front door. She locks up before bending down to pick it up.
She unfolds it to see that it’s clearly ripped from a book. It has a picture of a hand-drawn lily on it with descriptions pointed to the appropriate spot on the flower, the number "22" in the top corner. She turns it over to see a note in scrawny handwriting.
Lily #12. –K
She folds it up and places it in her back pocket, quickly finishing up the nightly watering before turning off the lights and leaving the store.
She marches down the street to the used bookshop next door and goes inside. She hasn’t ever been in there – she doesn’t have to walk past it to get to her bug and, until she recently started to get to know Killian, she was too shy to talk to the owner.
He was on a ladder, stacking books on the top shelf. He seemed in the zone, like he was at ease and doing what he loved. She couldn’t help but watch him for a few moments before walking over to him.
“Ahem…” She makes the noise, trying to get his attention.
He nearly falls off the ladder at the sound. “Lass, you scared me!”
“Sorry. I had to come over and thank you for the flower.”
His face slowly grins as he climbs down. He starts scratching behind his ear, and she doesn’t think she’s ever liked a tick as much as him doing that. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t stand the thought of missing a day, and I didn’t want to support the competition.”
She gently places her hand on his shoulder and leans forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s twelve.”
He’s turning red at the kiss while scrunching up his face in confusion, making her chuckle.
“You asked me how many flowers it takes to woo a girl, and my answer is twelve.”
He lets out a small laugh before popping an eyebrow up. “Interesting. I would have thought it took at least fifteen.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can make it fifteen if you’d like...”
They both laugh as he shakes his head. “If twelve is the magic number, then I must ask. Will you go out with me?”
She studies him for a moment before nodding her head. “The shop closes at 5:00 on Sundays. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a last flirty look, she turns around and walks out of the store, swaying her hips a little more than necessary.
She leaves the strip mall without turning back, calm and collected, but once she’s alone in her car, she can’t help the little excited sound that comes out of her mouth as she drives in anticipation for the next day.