We arrived at the floral market and the place was even more amazing than I’d heard. They had every type of flower imaginable, imported from dozens of countries. Buyers came from all over the country to see the exotic plants.

From here, they were taken in refrigerated trucks to the airport, where they would fly express to the fanciest stores, hotels and weddings in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Miami. It was an incredible sight.

“Wow,” Grant said. “I never knew flowers were such a big deal.”

I looked at him, my gaze lingering a little too long on his red lips. Those lips that never failed to intoxicate me when I tasted them. I still couldn’t believe he’d kissed me. I stopped him, but I wanted more. I wanted his delicious mouth on mine more than I wanted anything else in the world.

“Are you kidding me?” I said, forcing myself to keep my mind on the flowers. “Flowers are amazing. You know you can’t have a wedding without them, right?”

“I know,” he said, “but aren’t the roses at the local grocery store usually enough?”

“Sure they are,” I said, “but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

“Grant! I’m getting married. Do you have any idea what that means for a girl?”

“Sure I do.”

I laughed and shook my head. He didn’t have a clue. He was literally the most clueless guy in the world when it came to weddings. He didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. And then I remembered, that wasn’t true. He’d kept photos of me hidden in the loft for years. He was a romantic without realizing it.

But still, Grant was the only guy I’d ever heard openly admit that he hated weddings.

We walked to a huge display of roses. They had everything. I mean everything. Only a trained botanist would be able to appreciate the effort that went into bringing a selection of that many varieties together in one place.

We were looking at literally hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of flowers. They had single leaf varieties from southwest Asia, Western Roses from the Rocky Mountains, flaky roses and chestnut roses from China, cut stems from India, and the finest greenhouse varieties in Europe. It was incredible.

I looked at Grant. His eyes were wide with appreciation.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” I said.

He was surprised. “Yes,” he said. “They are actually.”

“You’ve got the whole world right here, Grant.”

“I can see that.”

“Just like all the varieties of wine depend on the different growing conditions, climates, weather patterns and soil compositions from around the world, so do flowers.”

“I never thought about it that way,” he said.

Grant spent almost all of his free time cultivating some of the finest grapevines in the Socorro Valley. He knew about plants, and soil, and the minute variations that could make the difference between divine flavor and bitter trash.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes they are, Lacey.”

He looked at me and didn’t look away. The intensity of his gaze shook me to my core. I was forced to break eye contact.

We spent hours wandering the market, and we saw more flowers than many people see in a lifetime. When we got to the end, there was a little cafe and we sat and ordered two coffees.

Grant faced me with a tender look in his eyes.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Lacey. I never realized there was so much beauty in this stuff.”

“Thank you for accompanying me.”

He nodded. “Rob missed out,” he said.

I nodded and got the attention of the waiter. I ordered a slice of the cake they were famous for. It was made with rosewater, extracted from a certain rose that only grew in one small valley in China.

“Wow,” Grant said when he took a bite.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Not the most delicious thing I tasted so far today.”

I blushed. I held his gaze for just a second, then pretended I needed something from my purse. I lifted my bag onto my lap and rummaged among the contents. My fingers touched my lip gloss and I took it out. I hadn’t meant to grab it, but I’d felt the need to busy myself somehow. Grant watched closely as I applied the gloss to my lips, giving them a seductive sheen.

“So,” he said, “apart from exotic roses, what else would be involved in your perfect wedding?”

“My perfect wedding?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it a million times. I know you, Lacey. You’ve got everything planned, down to the tiniest detail.”

“I do actually,” I said, smiling.

“So, what else would you get?”

“If I could get anything?”

“Yes. If you could have absolutely anything you wanted?”

“Well,” I said, glad to have someone I could talk to about my plans, “one thing which is kind of silly, is that I’d like doves.”

“Doves?”

“I know, it’s a bit of a cliché, but doves are really remarkable animals.”

“They’re romantic.”

“They are. They’ve been a symbol of love and peace for centuries. Did you know during the Middle Ages, people believed doves chose their mating partners on Valentine’s Day.”

“And do they?”

“Well, I don’t know what scientists say, but I like to believe they do.”

“Pretty romantic,” he said.

I shook my head. I was embarrassed. “It’s just a silly thing.”

“I don’t think it’s silly. You’ve got to create your own special meaning for things in life. Otherwise everything is gray and drab.”

“Yes,” I said. “Doves also stay true to their mate. The ancient Greeks always depicted the goddess of love, Aphrodite, surrounded by doves. The Romans did the same with Venus.”

“Interesting.”

“And of course, Jesus is often depicted with a dove, representing love and peace.”

“I noticed that.”

“Noah sent a dove to find land after the flood.”

Grant smiled at me. He was really listening. He didn’t think I was silly at all.

“So, doves, roses. What else do you like?”

“Well, sunsets obviously.”

“Obviously,” Grant said.

“But not just any sunset. It has to be over the ocean.”

“Why stop at just a normal sunset? Why not add the ocean?” he said, smiling.

“Hey, you said if I could have anything I wanted.”

He nodded. “Roses, doves, sunsets. Sounds like you’ve got your bases covered.”

“And one more thing,” I said. “Music.”

“Romantic music?”

“Not necessarily, but live music. Real music, from a band I like.

“Any band in particular?”

“No. Just a good band. I’m not picky.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said, a wide grin on his face.