Angol
Ford
I've never thought much about Orson Naples.
He's a cute guy who I'd seen around town a few times, but then one day he up and left and didn't reappear until a few years later. No one knows where he went or what he was doing, all this gossipy town knows is that he's a widower, owns the florist, and is friends with that divorced group that hang out at the Killer Brew all the time.
But then one day I step into his flower shop and go from rarely thinking about him, to him constantly being on my mind.
There's a restlessness to him that I'm dying to unlock answers to.
And his eyes linger on me a little too long for a straight man ...
Orson
Ford Thomas is a pest. A delightful one. A tempting one. But I'm too old for games.
The ones I've played in the past have always led me to trouble which is why I vowed to settle down and live a quiet life.
So when Ford walks into my shop all uncontained energy and flirty quips in a pair of heavy work boots, I know I should show him the door.
I don't need fun. I don't need experiences.
Especially when those experiences have me questioning things I thought I knew about myself.
