I did, in fact, know someone who was named Jason. A certain good-looking, flirty Jason who lived just across the street. I prayed that what I was assuming was wrong, and that the bouquet of flowers Dorian was holding was one he had gotten for me—even though he had a garden of them at the back.
To my dismay, Dorian handed me the flowers and said, “This came from him. He told me to hand it to you, and that he wanted to say hi but he had to leave for work.”
From behind me, I heard Mary walk up to us while saying, “I heard the bell ring and I thought—wow! A bouquet for Shay? What’s the occasion? Did you make this, Mr. D?”
I bit my lower lip guiltily, as I watched Dorian look at me questioningly. “It’s not from me, it’s from a Jason,” he said, emphasizing the name.
Mary whistled teasingly a
