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"Oh, like hell, Swan," Killian teased, pulling her back into his arms. "That is definitely not what happened at all."
Morning had found them wrapped up in the sheets and each other as the light filtered in through the half open curtains. Killian's hands were smooth as they worked their way over her shoulders and back. Being naked with this man was quickly becoming a favored past time.
"Yes it is! Trust me - it was the first time you pissed me off so I remember it quite vividly."
It had been a couple of days before Valentine's Day - roughly three years ago. The bakery was slammed and had been for nearly a week. Emma had receipts and flour coming out her ears plus a huge lack of sleep weighing heavy on her mind.
It hadn't kept her from noticing the oh so subtle opening of the mysterious new store across the street.
What really added to the stress was the less than romantic weather. It had been a constant drizzle for days with the occasional downpour making an appearance. Two things were for sure - baking ingredients plus rain could mean disaster and the now obvious floral shop across the road could potentially hurt business. There was a lack of quality flower suppliers in Storybrooke and much of the surrounding area, but having this new option available so close to a holiday dedicated to all things sweet and beautiful could really cut sales. Emma tried to brush off the curiosity about who this new neighbor could be. Maybe she'd look into it later, but for now, she had a business to run.
Her half assed optimism last until February 12th at approximately one in the afternoon - the regularly scheduled time for white cane sugar delivery. Yes, the same damn time it had always been dropped off since the first order was ever placed.
Emma rolled into the parking lot post lunch with Mary Margaret to a rather unusual sight - although it was a bit difficult to see through the tiny drops of rain sporadically rolling down the windshield. There were two delivery trucks with grappling drivers, an argument clearly happening over who was in the way. Emma knew only that it sure as hell wasn't the guy who had all twenty bags of the sugar she'd ordered on a rolling cart, sitting without cover on the sidewalk. That was the same place the same delivery driver dropped off her same order at the same time every single month.
"What the hell?"
She said the words to the thin air in her car before jamming the vehicle into park and hopping out to find out what the strange commotion was about. The two guys were engaged in a wordy argument accompanied by waving clipboards and a terrible lack of attention regarding the darkening of the sky.
"Hey - both of you," she cut in, interrupting the battle of raised voices. "What's the problem here?"
"The problem is this guy and his truck that are blocking the back entry to the bakery. How the hell am I supposed to get the sugar inside?!"
"Okay, uh, just...calm down," Emma began, flinching at the thunder sounding overhead. "Wait - why are you even here? Nobody else uses this unloading zone."
"Well now someone does," the unknown driver snapped back, flashing a delivery form at her. "Now if you'll excuse me - I've got about ten flats of flowers to get inside and I'd prefer to do it before this storm hits."
He stormed back toward his truck, working with another guy to lower the first crate to the ground before heading into the flower store. Emma looked from the at risk sugar to the almost black clouds overhead. She had to do something before they ended up with a sweet melted mess all over the sidewalk.
"Okay, just...start taking it in through the front," Emma directed, quite unsure on the best way to handle the dilemma. "I will go find out what's going on. But please...just - hurry."
The driver nodded and Emma dashed across the street, feeling the increasing drops of rain land on her head. Water would ruin everything - and there was no way to get another order filled before Valentine's Day. This was not happening.
"Swan, it wasn't my fault it rained."
"But it was your fault that my delivery guy had no way into the bakery, leaving us to unload bulk sugar in a torrential rainstorm which led to losing about half of it, sir," Emma retorted, pinching at his ribs. "Plus you didn't a great job if being ironically 'out to lunch' when I came over to sort things out."
"You sure have a habit of thinking I'm out to get you," he remarked with a grin. "But in fact, I quite fancied you even then...well, when you weren't yelling at me."
"Hmmm," she began thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at him. "And now?"
"I think I've made myself quite clear, love," Killian replied, running his tongue across his teeth with a seductive smirk. "But seeing as how I've yet to rectify this sugar mishap situation, will you allow me to make it up to you? Tonight?"
"Hmmm, I don't know," Emma teased, feigning disinterest as she rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm a little busy. I have a pretty hot date tonight..."
"That you do," he laughed, kissing her forehead as he nuzzled up against her. "I'll bet that lucky guy is surely looking forward to it."
"I hope so."
Killian's expression was one of genuine elation. Emma found such amusement in his excited nature about them going out. It made her wonder what he had planned.
"Okay, love," he said, sighing dramatically. "I'm already kicking myself for saying this, but we both probably ought to get back to the business world."
"I suppose so. It doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Likewise, darling," he chuckled as Emma snuggled up under his chin. "But the sooner we get work out of the way, the sooner we can get back...here."
Ah yes - down to business, Emma thought with an internal laugh.
"I do need to shower," she mentioned, trying for a few more moments with him. "But that shouldn't take long...well, unless..."
"Is that an offer?"
"Would you like it to be?"
"Hmmm," Killian grinned, wiggling against her. "Perhaps you better lead the way, love."
Emma found herself unusually nervous for much of the day though she knew it was silly. It was Killian - this...guy. She wasn't quite sure how to describe or classify him now. She only knew that in the span of roughly a few weeks, he'd figured out a way to make her melt rather than just to make her fume.
Work has been such a dragging event, one filled with distraction and the inability to focus. She'd sat through a wedding consultation only to be thankful later that Anna had been within earshot to send her a noted summary of what had been discussed. Dammit, Emma realized. Her sweet little employee was definitely sensing that something was going on.
"Emma?"
Oh, great. Here we go, Emma thought as her breath hitched.
"Uh, yeah?"
"Are you...spending time with Killian?"
Dammit.
"Uh...why do you ask?"
"Well," Anna began, stacking cupcake boxes on a nearby shelf. "You guys just seem to hate each other less...or maybe not hate, but dislike - I don't know. It just seems different."
"Oh," Emma acknowledged, trying to busy her hands with shuffling documents near the register. "I wouldn't say I hate him - or that I...ever have."
"Ha! Seriously? Emma, you are livid every time you return from talking to him and if you're not dealing with him, you're avoiding him."
She knew Anna was right. Prior to the gala, Emma had rarely interacted with Killian without accusing, yelling, or threatening murder. So what had happened to cause this complete shift in their relationship?
"I don't know," Emma shrugged, clicking a pen while scanning random numbers on a receipt. "Maybe people...change."
Or maybe they see things they didn't before and opt to give someone a chance, she realized. Maybe that was what she was doing.
Standing in front of the mirror, Emma couldn't help but panic over her seventh choice of clothes. Killian had refused giving her any idea about where they were headed, telling her only to dress warm and to trust him - again. This was getting ridiculous.
She had been pulling on her black jacket when she heard a subtle knock on the wood of the front door. Biting her lip, she took a deep, shaky breath. She walked cautiously to the door, laying a palm flat against it and closing her eyes momentarily before pulling it open.
He looked handsome in a nearly devastating way. His hair was tousled and pushed back enough to highlight the whimsical blue of his eyes. He wore a collared blue sweater with a white henley underneath, the top two buttons undone. His jeans were faded but well fitted - of course - and his hands were jammed comically in the pockets. His feet were stuck inside of a pair of tan, canvas boat shoes. That was sure an interesting adjustment to his look - interesting but sure as hell not disappointing.
Then there were the flowers. They were ruffled and pale pink, tied together with a thick burlap ribbon. She wasn't fazed by his floral gestures anymore - just curious about his purpose behind his selections.
"Swan," he smiled wildy, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful, love."
Emma had dressed simply - hardly dolled up enough to be deemed beautiful. She'd picked copper colored jeans and a cream sweater, layered with a black jacket and her favorite gray scarf. Her boots were her favorite ones - a well worn, black pair that zipped up to the knee.
"You're not so bad yourself, Jones," she smiled, nodding softly. "Nice shoes."
"Ah, those," he grinned, rocking backward on his heels. "They are relevant - trust me."
There were those words again. They were almost starting to stick.
"Ready, Swan?"
"I guess as ready as I'll ever be."
"Good," he smiled, holding a hand out to her. "Then we should go...before I make alternate plans for that scarf of yours."
"Now that sounds a bit tempting," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him as she intertwined their fingers. "I may hold you to that later."
"You're on," he retorted, elbowing her teasingly. "Let's get out of here."
They'd been bantering over dinner for about an hour, a few glasses of wine and an immense amount of flirting livening up the night quite a bit. Emma found herself running her foot up and down his leg slowly, a movement that made him bite his bottom lip and raise his eyebrows at her.
"Are you trying to make a point there, love?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jones," she answered, swirling the wine in her glass as she glared right back at him. "Just trying to enjoy my glass of wine."
He reached across to stroke her fingers, studying the way their hands fit together. Emma was intrigued as she observed the way he took such interest in the touch of her skin to his. She caught the half smile overwhelming his lips and couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd had that sort of contact with someone. The look of longing she noticed told her that it wasn't something he was taking lightly. But who was she kidding - she wasn't either.
"So you'll have to forgive me, love," he began, clearing his throat as he kept his hand attached to hers. "I don't take you as a fan of pink, but given the time of year, it's all the rage in the flower shop."
She was confused at first, but his goofy grin told her that is was about the flowers. It was always about the flowers. She liked that for some reason.
"You're quite perceptive, aren't you, sir?"
"I'd like to think so."
"So are you going to educate me or not?"
"If you insist," he rolled his eyes flirtatiously. "Camellias - just got them in a day or so ago. They're native to Asia, but somewhat widely attainable now. Gotta love the modernized world of floral transport."
"Interesting," Emma said, tilting her head. "Are you about to get to the good part?"
"Eager, aren't we?"
"Killian..."
"So the camellia flower is a symbol for desire and longing - for one who has truly taken your breath away," he enlightened, the lilt in his voice growing heavy. "Spellbinding, lovely...a true vision."
His gaze was seductive but true - almost as if he was describing her rather than the plant. He had a way of doing that. Insufferable botanist with his extreme knowledge, she thought with a small smile.
"It seemed fitting," he shrugged. "Plus, I will always jump at a chance to elaborate on your botanical understanding."
Emma continued to study him as he paid the check, his eyes expressive as he scribbled that ever flourishing signature of his on the appropriate receipt. She didn't like the idea of dinner ending. She didn't want to go home - not unless he'd be joining her of course.
"Ready for step two, Swan?"
"Wait...there's more?"
"Absolutely," he laughed, standing and pulling her to his side as he kissed her cheek. "Did you bring your sea legs?"
Now what the hell did that mean?