The Sweetheart Plant: Old Town Braverton Sweet Romance, #6

By Roxie Clarke

When Pinwheel Plant Shop delivery driver, Amos Finch, who is hard of hearing, accidentally mixes up the cards on two Valentine's Day deliveries, he ends up giving wannabe ASL interpreter Petra Dylan a heartleaf philodendron from a secret admirer who isn't admiring her.

Which Amos thinks is a shame, because Petra is just the kind of woman he admires.

Petra, whose "for now" job is at the Secondhand Rose vintage thrift shop, has noticed cute deaf guy Amos around Old Town before and much to her surprise, he's noticed her too. As a fat woman, Petra is used to being the recipient of more disgusted glares than interested glances.

The two spend Valentine's Day together, delivering plants and food, strolling through residential Old Town Braverton, visiting friends, and talking, talking, talking. 

Things take a turn when the conversation veers toward being viewed as other by society, something Amos and Petra have both experienced, but in different ways, and they find for the first time that day they can't agree.

Can what began as their weirdest and most wonderful Valentine's Day be salvaged despite them using their mouths to offend when they could be kissing?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Free Press
• Release date: Nov 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393842095

Roxie Clarke

Roxie Clarke writes sweet romance featuring houseplants, hunky heroes, and happily ever afters. She lives outside Portland, OR with her husband and their five children. It is loud at her house.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

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1

Amos hurried into the Pinwheel Plant Shop through the back door, leaving his van running in the loading zone. Valentine’s Day was hectic for his plant delivery and Postmates gigs, and for his Lyft rides in the evening.

Hey, Avery, he said, doubling back to talk to the Pinwheel owner who was rummaging through boxes in the storage room. I’ve got a delivery from Small’s in the same apartment complex as this next plant order. Is it cool with you if I combine jobs? It would save me making two trips.

Avery pulled bubble wrap out of the box she was digging in and tossed it to the side. She turned to face him so he could read her lips. As long as you deliver within the window you’re supposed to, I don’t mind. It would be silly to make two trips and I’m paying you for the hour anyway.

Thanks, Amos said. Can I help you find something? You seem frustrated.

She nodded. I could swear I ordered more six-inch terra cottas, but all I’m finding are tens.

Amos scanned the storeroom, reading the words on the sides of the boxes. He couldn’t hear worth a dang, but his eyesight was better than 20/20. Here you go, he said, pointing to the third box down in a stack of four boxes. I’ll get it. He removed the first two boxes, setting them aside, and picked up the box of six-inch pots. Can I carry these to the front for you?

Yes, Amos. Please take them to Layla. Thank you, Avery said, signing thank you at the same time she said the words.

He’d told her more than once that she didn’t need to do that. He was a proficient lip-reader and his cochlear implant worked better than nothing even with the tinnitus the surgery had caused.

Amos carried the box out front and set it on the floor behind the counter.

Are those the six-inch terra cottas? Layla asked, speaking slowly and using her outside voice.

Yes, Amos said.

Awesome, thanks, she said attempting to sign thank you and instead making a rude gesture popular in Italy, before turning her attention back to the next customer in the super long line that went out the front door.

Valentine’s Day was always busy, but after a series of events tied to the shop, the most recent being Lee Stone and his wife Skye meeting in Layla’s macramé class and eloping two weeks later, things were bonkers.

He grabbed the two plants headed for Hillsburgh, a Heartleaf philodendron and a bromeliad, and rushed out the back door.

His next stop was Small’s. They had his order waiting for him on a shelf next to the front counter, so he got in and got out, and was on his way in under five minutes.

After gigging as a driver and delivery person for the past eight months, Amos knew his way around Braverton, Hillsburgh and every other city and town in the Portland Metro Area. He turned his radio on. Loud music helped distract him from the tinnitus.

Local stations had been playing Harmonia’s Uncle songs with greater regularity than usual and Amos was getting tired of hearing them, but not enough to quit listening. The fact that he could even kind of hear music was something he didn’t want to take for granted, overplayed love song or not.

He also might have been the tiniest bit bitter about being alone on Valentine’s Day again, although he wasn’t going to admit it to anyone.

Amos didn’t have the advantage of being a handsome rock star who was always going to get the girl. Being a hard of hearing, otherwise ordinary guy who drove his parents’ old minivan for his delivery jobs did not have him fighting off the ladies.

Petra sat on her black faux leather couch still wearing her fancy, I’m a pro, hire me, interview outfit, staring into space and shoving jumbo marshmallows into her mouth.

It had happened again. Another interview, another morning spent getting her hopes up that this time was the time. Only to have the interviewer tell her she had the right skills but wasn’t a good fit for their company.

What they really wanted to say was she was too fat to represent them in such a public way. Two previous interviewers had offered her office positions where she wouldn’t be the face of their business. She’d somehow mustered the strength to politely decline, even though she’d wanted to march into HR and holler fatphobia, sexism, and discrimination.

Petra tossed the bag of marshmallows to the other end of the couch in disgust. Her roommate Erryn would tell her the problem was not with the marshmallows but with society, yet Petra couldn’t help but hear her mother’s voice in her head counteracting that idea. Petra, sweetheart, you should go for a run. Maybe eat a salad once in a while.

Ugh, Petra said, leaning over and grabbing the bag. She liked marshmallows, and she was sad. End of story. For thin people, eating their feelings was a viable choice. Why couldn’t it also be one for fat people?

She picked