Hearts Like Ours

Part one of two. A driven bank executive finds herself off-balance when love arrives in the form of a florist with a smile too bright to ignore. (Heads up: there's a straight sex scene around page 3. If that's not your thing, close your eyes, scroll with confidence, and you'll land safely back in sapphic territory.) Special thanks toTHBGatofor their generous support.

Chapter 1: Riley Vaughn & Sarah Hoff

Riley turned the corner into the office kitchen and saw three women circling a fourth like bored jackals.

Tiffany, self-appointed queen of the idiot trio, was sneering at someone near the coffee machine. Riley sighed.

Always Tiffany.

Her voice had that dry, rasping edge of someone who loved hearing herself talk. Mia stood beside her, sharp in her eyeliner and elbows. The third woman, unnamed and forgettable, hovered with the limp energy of someone still waiting for a personality to arrive.

The fourth woman, barely five foot two and half-swallowed by the shadows, was Ava. Of course it was. Mia and the third woman flanked Tiffany like matching handbags.

"Up to no good again, ladies?" Riley's voice sliced clean through the air.

Tiffany pretended not to hear. Mia turned first, rolling her shoulders like she was getting ready to say something clever, until she met Riley's eyes. Her face changed like a switch had been flipped. She tapped Tiffany, who turned slowly, eyes narrowed but mouth shut.

Then they all turned except for Ava who stayed put, head downcast with hands politely folded in front of the machine. Riley took one step closer. Same height as the others, same build. But the air shifted around her like gravity bent just for her presence.

"Ladies, I don't have the time to clean up incompetence today. So why don't you go find somewhere else to be irrelevant?"

"She doesn't have to listen to you," Mia chirped, too much opinion, not enough judgment.

Riley glanced down at her coffee cup, and then at Mia's pristine blouse. She swirled the cold coffee in the cup, then looked back at Mia. Riley, who had promised herself to be more spontaneous this year. Did accidents count?

Instinctively, Mia took a step back.

Riley stepped forward, eyes locking on to Tiffany's, who tried a slow, measured response.

"We'll just be a moment, Ms. Vaughn."

The coffee cup was placed on a nearby table and Riley gave Tiffany a smile so polite it could cut glass.

"You've got ten seconds to walk away before I make it my business to know exactly what you do all day, and how I can cut it in half."

The silence was instant. Tiffany's mouth opened, then closed. Mia shifted her weight. The third woman looked like she regretted everything. Tiffany bristled, but something behind her eyes twitched. She gave Riley a tight, insincere smile, then turned on her heel.

"That's what I thought," Riley said coolly. "Now take your support group with you."

They slinked out, wounded pride in their wake. The third girl followed without a word, until Riley stopped her with a single glance.

"You," she said. "I don't know your name."

"Michelle," the girl mumbled.

"Are you new or just stupid?"

"New, Ms. Vaughn."

"Well, Michelle," Riley continued, "you've got two options. You can stay small with them, or you can grow into someone worth knowing. Think hard before you choose."

Michelle nodded, eyes downcast, and disappeared.

Riley turned back to Ava, whose eyes were wide. Sweet, adorable Ava. An easy target for women with nothing to offer but cruelty.

Riley exhaled. "You okay?"

Ava looked up, eyes wide and soft. "Yes, Ms. Vaughn."

"What did they say?"

Ava looked down.

"Ava," Riley prompted.

"They... called me the office cow."

Riley blinked. "The office what?"

"Cow."

She felt the temperature drop inside her.Of all the juvenile—

"They wanted me to moo."

Riley rolled her eyes. She didn't look down, but she didn't need to. Ava was curved like a sculpture, like nature had a point to prove. She didn't flaunt it but she didn't have to.

"High school's alive and well," Riley muttered.

Ava gave a small, embarrassed smile. "How do you know my name?" she then asked carefully.

"I know everyone who pulls their weight," Riley replied softly.

"But there's hundreds here."

"Most people do what's expected of them. Then we have a select few who go above and beyond." She said it like a fact, not flatter, and Ava's cheeks flushed.

"Don't waste time on people like Tiffany," Riley added. "You do more for this bank in a week than they do in a month. But I need you to stand up for yourself."

"Yes, Ms. Vaughn."

Riley stepped up to the coffee machine. "Now, what can I get you?"

"I'm not sure..."

"I'm guessing you're a cappuccino kind of woman," Riley said, pressing buttons. "And this? With a hint of cinnamon roll. It's the only good thing in this building."

She handed the cup to Ava with a gentle smile. Ava accepted it with both hands, her eyes lighting up.

"Thank you."

They left the kitchen, walking side by side before parting ways; Riley went up to her office and Ava to hers, also known as the bullpen.

❀

As Riley finally settled into her office, cappuccino in hand, her eyes narrowed at the delicate glint of silk stretching from her monitor to the edge of the desk.

The web. Again.

Just a single strand, but persistent, like some invisible tripwire daring her to ignore it. She sighed and swiped it away for what felt like the hundredth time. It would be back. It always came back.

Her gaze roamed the desk until she spotted the culprit: a tiny spider, legs a blur as it skittered for cover behind a stack of quarterly reports.

She reached for the nearest magazine,Design & Decor, rolled it with quiet menace, and raised it with grim determination.

That's when the knock came.

"Ms. Vaughn?" Her assistant peeked in, smacking gum like it was an Olympic sport.

Riley froze mid-swat, the magazine still raised.

"Uh?" she blinked. "Yes, Gabby?"

The assistant blinked back. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You looking to buy a flower?" Her eyes flicked to the cover Riley hadn't realized she was still holding with page after page of artfully arranged orchids, peace lilies, and statement succulents.

Riley cleared her throat, her mind drifting to the last flower in her apartment. It had been a resilient little thing that eventually committed suicide. "Sure. Something like that."

The assistant shrugged. "Danny wondered something about the upcoming audit. He said he's in his office when you have a moment." She disappeared again.

Riley glanced back at the desk. The spider was gone.

You live to see another day,she thought, placing the magazine down.But just you wait.

She downed the last of her coffee as she rose to go looking for Danny.

It was well after business hours when Riley finally stepped outside. On her way home, she passed a garden center. It was a big one, all glowing signs and dangling wind chimes. She remembered the flower she'd claimed to be shopping for, and with a quiet sigh, turned in.

And just like that, Riley Vaughn walked into a building looking for something she knew absolutely nothing about.

❀

Sarah Hoff was facing her greatest adversity.

The top shelf.

She stood in the aisle, arms crossed, head tilted back, staring down a glossy pink pot like she could will it to descend on its own.

It didn't. It just sat there smugly, relishing its elevated status. She clicked her tongue in frustration.

"See, why do they do this? The heavy stuff up top? That's just mean."

"I agree," came a voice behind her.

Sarah barely reacted. "You'd think they'd put the heavy stuff at the bottom, but nooo. Here we've got seeds, garden gloves and plastic buckets instead."

"Mhm," the voice said again. "Doesn't make any sense, does it?."

Sarah turned, slowly, and there she was. Tall, at least 5'11", poised and stunning. Blonde bob, crisp blouse tucked into tailored slacks, like she'd just stepped out of a photoshoot for executive elegance. Her presence was so composed it almost felt curated.

Sarah stared for a beat. "I think you're in the wrong place."

The woman raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Heaven's over by aisle six. There's an elevator. It'll take you straight to the top."

The woman followed Sarah's gaze to what looked like a service elevator. She chuckled, her voice low, warm and effortless.

"Thanks. I get lost so easily. Thought I'd grab a souvenir before I head back. Figured maybe I could lend a helping hand while I'm at it too?"

Sarah smiled, half-shy, half-smitten, and pointed. "The pink one, please. Glossy finish."

The woman set her purse down and reached up with ease, plucking the pot like it weighed nothing.

Sarah beamed as it was handed over. "Thank you!"

"My pleasure," the woman said, then leaned in slightly. "Now I just need to find a flower for my... uh, apartment? Or is it a house I have in heaven? Or maybe it's a den?"

Sarah tilted her head, pretending to consider this very seriously. "Something with a porch. I'm thinking an ocean view and palm trees. How about a bungalow?"

The woman nodded, amused. "A bungalow by the sea. Of course. Then I'll need a flower for the windowsill."

She turned to the tables making up rows and rows of greenery behind them, letting out a small sigh. "So many options."

A random bloom was lifted, a soft purple peony, and she gave Sarah a sidelong glance. "Thoughts?"

Sarah studied her for a moment. "Is this for you, or a gift?"

"For me. For the... bungalow."

Sarah nodded, crouched to gently set her pot down, then stepped forward and, without a word, plucked the peony from the woman's hand and returned it to its pot.

"They're lovely, but tricky indoors," she said, and then leaned in conspiratorially. "How confident are we with flowers?"

The woman matched her lean, eyes playful. "Not very. My last plant died of... everything."

Sarah laughed. "Everything, huh? I don't mind a challenge. Come."

She led her down the aisle, scanning stems and petals with careful precision until she stopped at a delicate white flower, its three petals poised like a dancer mid-pirouette.

"This," she said, picking one up, "is an orchid. Classic. Elegant. Surprisingly expressive if you look closely. This one's white, but they come in wild patterns like freckles or stripes."

The woman took it, her fingers brushing Sarah's. "I like it."

"Indirect light," Sarah said. "Not full sun. Water once a week, let the roots almost dry out in between. Most people love them too much. Overwatering is basically manslaughter."

The woman laughed. "Got it. Be aloof. Channel my inner cat owner."

Sarah nodded, a small smile on her lips. "It's mostly about patience, really."

"Thank you," the woman said. "You into flowers, or just gifted with top-floral wisdom?"

Sarah hesitated, then gave a modest little shrug.

"I've spent a lot of time around them. They calm me. And I guess I've picked up a few things along the way. If you ever want more for your celestial bungalow," she added, "try a florist. It costs a little more, but... we really care."

The woman tilted her head. "We?"

Sarah met her eyes and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm one. That's my shop down on Sophie Street, in the city."

The woman narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "There's a place near my work called Roses and... something?"

"Roses & Reverie," Sarah replied, her smile widening. "That's the one, that's my shop. My second home."

The woman looked at her differently. She held the orchid a little more carefully, like it mattered more now. "Then I'll treat this like a recommendation from someone who really knows her flowers."

Their eyes lingered for just a beat too long, and soon they went their separate ways. But something stayed; a warmth that carried with them as they left the store in opposite directions, each glancing back just once. Both a little more curious than before.

❀

Riley Vaugn opened the trunk of her car. It was expensive, sleek and had more horsepower than any reasonable person had use for. She set the orchid carefully inside, but paused.

It deserved better.

She lifted it out again and carried it to the passenger seat, gently fastening the seatbelt around the pot. Satisfied, she slid behind the wheel and began the drive home.

Her thoughts drifted back to the woman from the store. Petite. Funny. Charming. Cute, in the way that stayed with you. Riley had snuck a glance as they left, just a quick look, and felt it then. Her heart had done something unfamiliar, something involuntary. It had leaned forward. Curious.

The image of her still lingered: tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like it was muscle memory, eyes wide and unflinching, full of something quiet and kind. She was at least eight, maybe nine inches shorter, but she moved like she belonged to summer. Warm. Breezy. Sunlit. Everything Riley's world, her world of meetings and numbers, always being composed, wasn't.

Riley tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, following the beat of a soft pop song murmuring through the speakers. She should have asked her name. She was good with people, always had been. So why hadn't she? Sophie Street. That's where the shop was. Just a block or so from her office... Maybe she'd stop by.

And as soon as she admitted to herself that she would, that she wasgoing toand not just think about it, something stirred in her chest. It was small, unfamiliar, but very much alive.

Butterflies.

Chapter 2: Roses & Reverie

It was just a few days later when Riley, midway through her lunch break, found herself standing outsideRoses & Reverieon Sophie Street. She pushed the door open, the soft jingle of the bell overhead announcing her arrival.

"Be with you in a sec!" a familiar voice called from the back.

Riley smiled to herself. Her eyes wandered the shop, and there it was. The pink pot with the glossy finish. It now held a small lemon tree, its yellow fruit hanging like ornaments, cheerful and absurdly charming.

"It's you! The angel!"

Riley glanced up. That voice.

"It is me," she said, lips curving as she watched the woman emerge, wearing a white dress and sandals, her hazel-brown hair draped in soft waves over one shoulder.

There was something about the way she moved: fluid, almost absent-mindedly graceful, like someone who danced without realizing it. She looked as if she belonged barefoot in a sunlit kitchen, flowers in her hands, music low in the background.

"Are you lost again?" she teased.

"Something like that," Riley said, stepping forward. "I decided to find my guiding star."

The woman's smile brightened. "How's your orchid?"

"Dave? He's thriving. He's adjusting well."

A laugh escaped her. It was light and lovely in equal measures, and she raised her hand to cover it. "You named him Dave?"

"Knew it from the moment I saw him," Riley said, straight-faced.

The woman giggled. "Well. Welcome to my little corner of the universe."

"Not too far from the corner of mine," Riley murmured, letting her gaze drift across the shop.

The space was lush but not crowded, vibrant yet calm. A small oasis tucked between glass and concrete.

It was like stepping into a secret. The kind you didn't mean to find, but once inside, you never wanted to leave.

The walls were lined with shelves bursting with green: trailing ivy, velvet-leaf philodendrons, spider plants reaching out like curious fingers. In the far corner stood a cluster of potted lemon trees and olive saplings, their slender branches catching the afternoon light.

From the ceiling, glass orbs hung like dewdrops, each holding a miniature fern or single bloom suspended in water. Air plants curled lazily from macramé nests, swaying gently with every movement in the room.

Somewhere deeper in the shop, a small water feature burbled, a fountain or maybe a hidden basin, its sound threading through the scent of jasmine, rosemary, and damp soil. The floor was old hardwood, warm with age, worn in places where people had clearly stood and lingered. Above it all, soft pendant lights glowed like fireflies caught in jars.

It was lush, but not overwhelming. Alive, but somehow peaceful. There was a rhythm to it, a softness that seemed to pulse with Sarah's energy. The woman herself stood in the middle of it all like the keeper of the calm.

"You said you knew a thing or two about flowers... I think you were being modest."

She blushed as Riley looked back at her, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her dress brushed the tops of her knees, white and loose, and her eyes were impossibly open: wide and clear and warm. The kind of eyes that didn't know how to lie, and hadn't learned to guard the truth either.

"What can I do for you..."

"Riley."

"Hi, Riley. I'm Sarah."

They shook hands. Riley's grip was confident; Sarah's was warm.

Sarah lost herself in Riley's eyes. Riley was tall and graceful, with sharp eyes and still hands. There was a quiet composure about her, a kind of stillness that seemed to hush the world around her without asking it to.

"So Dave is holding down the fort at home," Riley said, "but I need someone to watch over my desk at work."

Sarah tilted her head. "What kind of desk?"

"Dark wood. No plants currently."

"Got any space left?" Sarah wondered, looking thoughtful.

"I'll make room."

She nodded, then turned to look through the store. After a moment, she bit her lip. "I have two good suggestions, but I don't have either in right now. I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize. You're helping already." Riley paused. "You choose. I trusted your instincts with Dave."

Sarah looked up, face brightening. "How about I order them in and bring them to you tomorrow? Is that... okay?"

"You'd do that?"

"While I can't beat the bigger chains on price," Sarah said, "I can absolutely beat them on service." She smiled, a little shy but proud. "And honestly, I'd like to. It feels like the least I can do. It'll be when I close up shop though."

Riley nodded.

"Here, let me show you the options—"

"No need." Riley reached into her purse and offered a business card. "I trust you."

Sarah turned it over, eyebrows lifting slightly at the fine weight of the card.

"You work at the bank around the block? I say around the block, but it practicallyisthe block."

Riley nodded, eyes still on her.

"Riley Vaughn, Head of Strategic Advisory". Sarah read the title aloud softly, more to herself. "What does a head of strategic advisory... do?"

Riley opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Honestly? If you ever need help falling asleep, call me and I'll explain everything. I'll have you snoring before I hit slide three."

Sarah laughed. "Noted."

They chatted for a while, easy and light, until Riley mentioned that she had to get back to the office. Sarah glanced toward the window as Riley headed for the exit.

"What happened to the sun?" Sarah asked as she looked outside.

"Playing hide and seek it seems," Riley replied, but even as she spoke, the sky cracked open and the rain came down in sheets.

"Oh no," Riley murmured, checking the time on her watch. She sighed, moving to brace herself at the door.

"Hey."

Riley paused, and Sarah handed her something.

"What's this?"

"It's called an umbrella."

Riley's lips twitched. "Fascinating. I've heard about those. How does it work?"

"You hold it. Upward. Like a revolutionary," Sarah replied, barely keeping a straight face.

"Iholdit? Surely you jest."