PART 1: Every Rose Made Him Cry

The first time cowboy Jack Whitmore walked into the only flower shop in Willow Creek, he sneezed so violently that he knocked over a bucket of roses, frightened the shop cat, and nearly proposed marriage to a woman whose name he didn’t even know.

And somehow, that was the least embarrassing part of his afternoon.

“Bless you!” the young woman behind the counter exclaimed.

“Th-thank you!” Jack managed before sneezing again.

She hurried around the counter, her chestnut curls bouncing against her shoulders.

“Good heavens! Are you sick?”

“No, ma’am. Perfectly healthy.”

He sneezed three more times.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You have a strange way of proving it.”

Jack Whitmore was thirty-four years old, owned eight hundred acres of cattle country, and had once wrestled an angry bull away from a broken fence.

But standing before Emma Bennett, the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, he couldn’t manage a complete sentence.

Especially not with two hundred flowers trying to murder his nose.

“I’m looking for flowers,” he said.

Emma glanced around her shop. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Jack smiled helplessly.

Then his eyes began watering.

Emma’s smile faded.

“Oh, dear. Are you crying?”

“Absolutely not.”

A tear rolled down his cheek.

Emma looked genuinely concerned.

“Are the flowers for someone you’ve lost?”

“No!” Jack blurted. “Nobody’s gone anywhere!”

Another sneeze nearly sent his hat flying.

Emma pressed a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Perhaps you’d better sit down.”

Jack wanted to sit down. He also wanted to run straight out the door and never return.

Instead, he stared at her beautiful green eyes and made the worst decision of his life.

“Would you have supper with me Saturday?”

Emma blinked.

“You came here to ask me that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the flowers?”

Jack looked at the overturned bucket.

“I suppose they’re optional.”

Emma laughed so warmly that Jack forgot about his burning eyes for half a second.

“Saturday sounds lovely, Mr…?”

“Whitmore. Jack Whitmore.”

“Well, Jack Whitmore, I’m Emma Bennett.”

She held out her hand.

Jack took it.

For one glorious moment, everything was perfect.

Then he sneezed directly into his own hat.

Emma laughed again.

And Jack fell hopelessly in love.

By Saturday evening, Jack had convinced himself that the flower shop had simply been unusually dusty.

He arrived at Emma’s little cottage wearing his finest shirt, polished boots, and a hopeful smile.

Emma opened the door carrying an enormous bouquet of freshly cut wildflowers.

“I thought these would look beautiful on our table!”

Jack froze.

His nose twitched.

His eyes burned.

“They’re… magnificent.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He sneezed.

Emma frowned.

“Jack, are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Never better.”

He sneezed again.

Over supper, Jack endured seventeen sneezes, four watery-eyed episodes, and one particularly unfortunate moment when he accidentally seasoned his potatoes with pepper instead of salt.

Emma watched him with growing confusion.

Every time she smiled, his eyes filled with tears.

Every time she moved closer, he leaned away.

And whenever she mentioned her flowers, he looked like a man preparing for his own funeral.

By dessert, Emma was certain of one thing.

Jack Whitmore regretted asking her out.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said quietly.

Jack looked startled.

“What?”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I understand.”

“Emma, I haven’t enjoyed an evening this much in years.”

His eyes watered again.

Emma looked down at her plate.

“Then why do you keep crying?”

Jack opened his mouth.

For one terrible second, he considered telling her the truth.

That he was terribly allergic to flowers.

That her beloved roses made his throat itch.

That he had spent the entire evening fighting the urge to bury his face in a cold wet towel.

But then he saw how carefully she had arranged the wildflowers, how lovingly she spoke of her shop, and how much happiness her work brought her.

How could he tell her that the very thing she loved made him miserable?

“It’s the pepper,” he lied.

Emma stared at him.

“Jack, we finished supper twenty minutes ago.”

“Strong pepper.”

She didn’t laugh this time.

When Jack finally rode home, Emma stood on her porch, watching his silhouette disappear beneath the moonlight.

“He doesn’t like me,” she whispered.

Meanwhile, Jack rode across his ranch with swollen eyes and a ridiculous smile.

“I’m going to marry that woman,” he told his horse.

The horse snorted.

“Don’t you start.”

Three days later, Jack returned to the flower shop determined to confess everything.

But when he reached the doorway, he heard Emma speaking to her friend Clara.

“I don’t understand him,” Emma said sadly. “He’s kind, and funny, and I thought he liked me. But every time we’re together, he looks absolutely miserable.”

Jack’s heart sank.

Then Clara asked a question that made him stop breathing.

“Emma, has it occurred to you that Jack Whitmore might already be in love with someone else?”

Emma was silent for a moment.

Then she whispered, “I think you’re right. And I won’t embarrass myself chasing a man who doesn’t want me.”

Jack stepped forward, ready to explain.

But before he could enter, Emma added something that stopped him cold.

“I’ve already promised Mr. Harrison I’ll accompany him to the harvest dance on Friday.”

Jack knew that name.

Thomas Harrison was the richest bachelor in Willow Creek.

And unlike Jack, he could walk into a flower shop without looking like he’d been attacked by a swarm of bees.

Jack stood frozen outside the door.

For the first time in his life, the stubborn rancher realized he might lose the woman he loved because he was too embarrassed to admit one simple truth.

Then he heard Emma say, “Perhaps Mr. Harrison will finally give me a reason to smile instead of cry.”

Jack slowly removed his hat.

He had three days to win her heart.

And the only plan he could think of involved walking straight into the biggest flower auction Willow Creek had ever seen.