Twisted in Tulips by Nikki Duncan Page A

them had signs with names and flower types listed. Vases, rolls of ribbon, branchy-looking twig stuff, cans of spray paint, blocks of foam and other assorted supplies sat in groups on the different tables, clearly waiting to be put into whatever arrangements they’d be used in.
    The last row of tables danced with thick and tall tulips. Their soft fragrance filled the air. It was like looking at a field of them. Red tulips kissed with white edges, white kissed with red, pure white, pure red, and a creative blend of both colors in one. The music shifted to something with a soft and melodic kind of rise and fall that wailed chick-flick soundtrack. It suited his mood.
    A bundle of the tulips rose into the air and then bounced down until they disappeared. Walking along the tables, moving closer and closer to where Misty worked, the sense of sunshine and happiness grew in a quiet swell within Jace’s chest. At the end of the table, he found himself facing a shorter sea of tulips. Misty, dressed in one of her habitual skirts and blouses, was in the middle. She knelt on the floor as she wove thin strands of gold wire into a braided, mesh pattern. It extended from the top of the art deco-style vases and reached to the bottom of the shortest bloom. The flower stems had even been done in a sort of braid.
    The effect was hope and elegance. Pride for what Misty accomplished with some flowers and wire filled Jace until his chest grew tight and each heartbeat struck his ribs with the certainty of a church bell.
    “You’re amazing.” The simple statement came out more quietly than he’d intended, but she heard.
    Her head popped up. She spun at the waist. “Jace.” With wide eyes, she stood and turned to fully face him. “What are you doing here?”
    “I had to see you.” As if an invisible rope extended between them was being shortened, pulling him, he walked through the vases until only inches separated them.
    “Why?”
    Her skin glowed with the pleasure she found in her work. Until getting the job with Blue Chip and being granted control of his own actions it was a pleasure Jace wouldn’t have recognized. A soft line of gold dust, likely from the wire paint, brushed her upper lip. Mesmerized, he reached out to smooth it away. Instead, his thumb rested at the line’s edge. The moment stalled, suspended in perfection.
    He hadn’t been sure what he wanted to say or how the moments would play out. He’d only known he couldn’t have waited a second more to see her. “I missed you.”
    “I missed you.” She stepped closer.
    “I owe you a thank you. For last night.”
    “I heard you had a good time.” She didn’t smile or move or make a gesture other than to stare into his eyes. “I spoke with Sam earlier.”
    “It was…” Heat filled his face. His throat tightened. His chest, right in the middle and radiating outward, ached. His eyes burned. His vocabulary washed away beneath a sudden avalanche of tears fighting for freedom.
    He shook his head to dislodge the urge to cry.
    Misty took the last step that separated them and rested her hands on his hips. Serenity shrouded her gaze. “It was something you deserved.”
    “I’m not so sure. The way I’ve acted at times, the things I’ve said and thought.”
    “Came from the angry side of a wounded man.” She kissed him simply. “You aren’t that man.”
    “I was that man.” The last of his walls disintegrated into ash. As boldly as Misty entered his life she’d just as quietly changed it. “You’ve changed me.”
    “You made me like cranky men.”
    “I was judging people worse than they ever judged me, and you helped me to see that.”
    “I was doing my own judging, especially in regards to my mother.” She unknotted his tie, but didn’t pull it free of his shirt collar.
    “She’s a piece of work. I can see how she makes things difficult for you.” He popped two of her blouse buttons free and was rewarded by the view of her breasts swelling over the top