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Grumpy Girl & Roses
DIRTY HOE LOVE

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BRYNN HALE
Copyright © 2022 by Brynn Hale

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 Grump Girl & Roses Info

She’s been pricked before. He’s digging her and her sassy attitude. But not everything is coming
up roses.
Delia
If I hear, “Well, at least you’ve got a pretty face,” one more time…
Let’s just say there’s a good, make that bad, reason I’m grumpy.
When Joel Yager, the guy from Everville High School that every girl wanted, comes into the shop,
and we get our wires crossed, I get my grump on.
I think he says something about my size but he’s really talking about the roses.
After a good chuckle and my humble apology, he asks me out.
Me?!
After my last relationship imploded in divorce, I’m more than a little cautious.
When we bump into my ex and he’s his normal jerky self, I find out how Joel rolls when it comes
to guys making a girl cry.
Can Joel deal with the thorns that I have poking my heart?

Joel
It’s Nana’s 90 th birthday, I need a gift. Mom suggested Dirty Hoes Plants & Décor, and I
thought she was joking.
Well, the joke’s real. And this place has more than plants…it has beautiful women, too.
But they’re not for sale.
Like Delia. The Rubenesque woman with bright red lips who gets my attention immediately, and
holds it too.
After a dinner with the blossoming flower, I can tell she’s put up walls that not even Nana’s
climbing roses could get over.
No woman, and definitely not this beautiful blossom of a woman, should ever be told they’re
anything less than perfect.
When we meet the man who hurt her, I do what I need to protect Delia, but I don’t mean to scare
her a little in the process.
Can I prove that I’m different and I really dig her, or will the past bury our love before we
get started?

This is a steamy short story romance. No Cliffhangers. No Cheating. Happily Ever After
Guaranteed. Grumpy Girl & Roses is the first in the Dirty Hoe Love series, but all in the series
can be read as standalone stories. If you crave short romances with steamy scenes, women getting
what they need and want, a few laughs, and a happily ever after, then you’ll love this story.
 Contents

Delia
Joel
Delia
Joel
Delia
Joel
Delia
Joel
Epilogue

About the Author

 Delia

I STARE AT THE ENVELOPE. F IVE YEARS OF MY LIFE COLLAPSED INTO WHAT FEELS LIKE A BRICK IN MY
hand. It’s the end of what came on fast and ended up furious. He cheated. It happens, but probably
explains my current attitude toward men.
Trust…minimal.
Hope…marginal.
Laughter…none.
I used to laugh. I used to trust. I used to have hope for the future.
But…
If I’m being honest, my ex, Charlie, wasn’t the one for me. He was too much.
Too cocky. Too attention seeking. Too…mean.
Words hurt. That’s what I learned from him. He was sneaky too. I’d be having a late-night snack
and he’d says something like “Maybe stop at two cookies this time,” or “I know women who would
never eat after six o’clock.”
Yeah, the one he was screwing behind my back, apparently.
Don’t get me wrong. The man was a God in bed and I’m not exactly sure why he was with me
other than my last name… Billingsley. My great uncle invented the toilet paper roll. Yeah, I’m not
kidding. And my family has money.
But I don’t.
I decided to step away from the money when I married. Corporate life wasn’t for me. I give kudos
to those who can thrive in that environment, but it stifled me.
I drop the envelope on the breakroom table when Mari comes in. “Hey boss, how are you today?”
She blows up her cheeks and blows out the breath with a flutter of her lips. “Well, the dog ate
Lily’s homework. Literally. Cosmo told me he needed twenty-four cookies for his class at ten o’clock
last night and I have cramps so bad that I want to tear my uterus out through my belly button.”
Okay, so maybe sometimes I laugh.
And this is one of those times.
She tips her head at me. “Really?”
“Come on…the dog actually ate my homework! Your kids are the best.”
“Be glad you never had any…” she stills and the tension between us ratchets. “I’m sorry Delia.”
“No worries. I know you didn’t mean it.”
Just another reason Charlie didn’t want me. PCOS. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Fancy name for
hard to conceive. Oh, we tried. Like I said, it was the one thing that Charlie could do right. But he
also used it as a reason to divorce me, too. It was like I found out, told him, and then he looked at me
differently.
It taught me that telling a man the truth can lead to consequences.
And also that I’m better off without one…a man, not the truth.
Mari slumps into a chair and sees the envelope. She knows the return address. Heck, she’s the one
who suggested the law firm…and the lawyer. She used her when she divorced her problem child.
“Is that the final?”
“Yep. It’s done.”
“That took…”
“Two years. He decided to make it as painful as possible.”
“Asshole.”
“Extraordinaire,” I mumble and take a long drink of my vanilla latte.
“You know that there are good guys out there, right?”
“And you have experience with this.”
She bites her lip. “Yeah, what the hell do I know. Mine was just as bad as yours.”
“Oh, I think yours might take top placement, but that’s okay. It shouldn’t be a competition for the
worst! Men!”
Cali sticks her head around the door edge into the breakroom. “I can only imagine what you’re
talking about with that word.” She sighs. “But…we’re starting to pick up, so…” Her head tips.
“Some help?”
Cali and Mari own this unique establishment. And they are as unique as it is.
Mari jumps to her feet. “Be right there!”
I stand. My break is officially over. I look at the paper on the table and shove it into my bag. I
don’t need to look at it. It’s the end.
I just want a new beginning.
 Joel

I PULL IN FRONT OF THE ADDRESS THAT MOM TOLD ME TO GO TO AND I LOOK TO THE SIGN .
That’s what it says and that’s what she said.
I chuckle to myself. That’s what she said. My inner twelve-year-old boy comes out.
Dirty Hoes Plants & Décor.
I thought Mom was kidding when she told me to come here for a gift for Grammy’s ninetieth
birthday.
Apparently not.
I pull on the door and a chime sings a happy little ring. I smile at the sound. It’s not happy, it’s
bright.
“Be right with you!” comes from somewhere to my right, but with the jungle like interior, it’s hard
to know exactly from where.
I hear someone grunting in the corner. “Take your time,” I call out.
“Okay, thanks. Having a little issue.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“No…no. I’ve got it. Promise. Be right there.”
I wander around and find plastic strips cascading down from a doorway, leading to the exterior
greenhouse.
Bet the roses are out here.
They aren’t exactly household plants, more garden wares. At least that would make sense to me,
but I’m a fish out of water here.
I slide to a halt. The building is filled with every type of summer plant that I’ve never seen. Plants
with big leaves that look like…well, that’s a good name for that…elephant ear. Fitting. I look at a few
other plants and some of them say “cultivar” and some say “native”, and some don’t say anything. I
wonder the difference but keep on the rocky path they’ve created to keep everything off the ground.
There must be 1000 pounds of crushed granite on this floor. My job hauling rock from the quarry
gives me the knowledge to give that assessment.
Rock hauling is a job. It’s not my dream. My dream was to play football. Professional, but those
statistics—only .00075% of all high school football players make it to the NFL—are painfully true. I
went to the scouting combine for three years, played a little arena ball, and then just gave up. I’m one
of the 99.925%. It’s not a great group when football is all you ever wanted.
And it hurts to give up on a dream.
I’ll never do it again is what I told myself. Not that I’ve found a new dream.
But today is about Grammy, not me.
 I find the section with the roses.
“A—aaachoo!” My allergies kick into high gear and my eyes water. I blink away the tingling and
rub at the right one as they start to burn.
“Bless you!” gets called from inside and the voice floats to me like a melody. It’s almost like she
sang the words.
And I almost want to sneeze to hear it again.
“Thanks!” I squat down and start reading the names. “Rosa Carolina. Achoo!”
“Bless you!”
I smile and stick my nose in a beautiful, full blossom, inhaling deeply. My nose instantly stings.
Probably should stop doing that. But the smell reminds me so much of Grammy.
I read a few more tags. “Rosa Woodsil, Rosa Virginiana.” I look up and the lighting creates a halo
around a woman’s blonde hair making her look almost angelic as she comes closer. “Ro…ro…
rosa…,” my brain stutters.
My nose tingles and twitches. “Wow, those are some huge…” I smother my mouth in my elbow.
“Aaaaachoo…bloobs.” My words come out all muffled.
Her face drops, her eyebrows shoot up, and she crosses her arms. “What did you just say?”
I review what I said as I stand up. “I said you have some huge…” Then I realize what it might
have sounded like and why she’s protecting the two round items on her chest that my eyes seem to
wander too indiscriminately.
“I know what the front door says, but this isn’t that type of place.” She points toward the door, and
I keep my eyes pointed to the canvas ceiling of the atrium, avoiding any chance of impropriety. “You
need to go.”
I hold my hands up in surrender but bring my eyes to hers. The blue seems a little harsh—almost
sharp like a shard of ice. But in that moment, I see something familiar. She has one eye a deeper blue
than the other. I remember that anomaly.
“I…I promise that I didn’t mean what you think I meant. I meant…meant…crap…” My chest
bounces with an impending big one.
“Bless you!” she says close to my face, and it stops me in my tracks, the pain radiating from my
nasal cavities but there’s no sneeze. A bitter trick to stifle my sneeze, but I probably deserve it.
She turns and walks away. “That’s for telling me I have huge boobs. Like I didn’t know that!”
I follow on her heels. “I promise, that’s not what I said.”
She heads to the front door. “Out!”
“Please, Delia, stop.”
She stills, turning toward me, her hair cuts the air like a circular saw. Her jaw tightens. “So the
football captain recognized me. Woo…friggin’…who. Now I’m going to tell you one last time before
I call the police…get out!”
I sigh. “I’m not the football anything anymore and you’re Delia Billingsley. I remember that time
when we had to pair up for physics class.”
“And I seem to remember that I did all the work, Joel Yager.”
“I seem to remember you wouldn’t let me do anything.”
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and when she re-opens them. “That does sound like me.”
An eyebrow peaks. “You really weren’t talking about my—”
“No! I promise.”
She leans back against the wall. “I’m sorry, been a shitty day and I jumped to a conclusion, but in
my defense, it did sounds like you said boobs.”
 I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to talk while sneezing. It did sound like…
well, you know. But I promise it wasn’t. I was saying ‘huge blooms.”
Her lips lift and she starts a giggle. “We do have some huge blooms here.”
I lean back against the wall next to her. “I need to pick out a new rose for my Grammy’s ninetieth
birthday party. Can you help me?”
She pushes off the wall and I catch her perfume. It’s floral.
Imagine that.
But it’s not roses.
Something else equally as pristine and perfect.
And she’s something else, too.
Fiery.
Charming.
Simply beautiful.
 Delia

I REMEMBER THAT CLASS AND I REMEMBER HIM. WHO WOULDN ’ T ? J OEL YAGER WAS THE GUY. THE ONE
that every girl in high school wanted to know better. The one who wore a black leather jacket and
aviators. The one who was the homecoming king, football captain all four years of high school, and
he had this smile that he used indiscriminately to drop panties on his whim. Mine always stayed on,
and it was like he looked right through me. But I remember how my heart beat fast when he was
around. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
I wasn’t always curvy and filled-out in all the places. In high school, I was basically a board—
straight with none of the bumps and peaks that I have now. Back then I ate everything in sight and
never gained a pound. But when my twenties came, they came on strong and fast. My metabolism did
some fancy gymnastics move and overnight it seemed I gained twenty, thirty, fifty, eighty pounds
putting me into size 18 and 20 clothing when I had been single digits. It’s been an adjustment and I
never thought he’d recognize me. The only thing that hasn’t changed on me is…
I can’t think of anything. I’m different.
He’s not.
He’s still 6’3”, maybe a little taller. He’s still got that chocolate brown hair that flips over like the
curl of an ice cream cone above his eyes, and he still has that damn smile. I just wonder if he still has
that same panty dropping attitude, too.
I help him pick out a beautiful native to North Carolina rose bush that will fit perfect in her
garden. I’ve been to his mother’s garden and if his grandmother’s is even half as beautiful, it’s a ninth
wonder after his mother’s, which would be the eighth.
He’s sneezed several more times and each I’ve given him a “bless you”. It’s been nothing but
professional. No more misunderstandings. And now I feel a little embarrassed, but I’m not going to
tell him that.
We make our way to the register and get him rung up for the plant.
“How long have you worked for…Dirty Hoes?” At least he cringes saying the name and that lets
me know he’s still cautious to say the wrong thing.
“About a year and a half. I used to work at the family biz, but my ex still works there, so…”
“He got the family biz and you got kicked out?”
“He is their top salesperson…so…” I shrug. It really is a thorn in my hide that my family chose
him over me, but a multi-billion-dollar business needs their sales force, and I was marketing,
promotions at that. I’m replaceable and they have another me before my belongings were boxed up for
me. But when it comes to Charlie, he’s one of a kind. Really, he’s a weed among men, but I digress.
“Do you like working here?” Joel asks while handing over his credit card.
 “I love it. Honestly, it’s a dream to work here. Plants are life. I feel alive when I’m around them.
And if you…” I walk around the desk with his receipt in my hand.
“If you what?”
“If you stand silent for a minute, you can actually hear them growing.”
He shakes his head. “You’re fucking with me.”
I still. If only…
I hold out the receipt and his fingers slip over mine, but I don’t let go. “Just listen.”
He steps closer. “Okay.”
I didn’t realize how close he would be. I can smell his shower gel—deep forest scents coat the
air between us. He’s cedar and orchid and a little musk.
He steps closer and stares into my eyes.
I’m starting to get that old feeling. My heart ticks a little faster.
His eyes start to widen. He lowers his head toward me and then detours to my ear. His breath is
hot against my ear as he whispers, “I can hear it! It’s like a crackling.”
I turn my head and our faces are the width of a piece of paper apart.
“Wow…” he says and I’m not sure he’s talking about the plants or that we’re basically sharing air.
“Delia, I’m going to head out,” our delivery driver calls out from the back room and Joel slides
back at the intrusion.
“I…I probably should get going.”
“Yeah, Grammy’s not getting any younger.”
He laughs. “You’re the same Delia that I remember. Snarky and quick wit.”
“Well, I’m not all the same.”
He pauses. “Of course not, you’re better. Beautiful.”
I swear time stops. “What?”
“Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”
I swear my brain skips like a record on a turntable.
“Delia?”
“Um…I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you,” he pauses, “Like to go to,” he pauses again like he’s letting my brain catch up,
“dinner with me?”
“Why me?”
He chuckles. “Why not?”
He’s right. Why do I assume that someone like him wouldn’t be interested in me? He’s not another
species. He’s not a cactus and I’m not a rose…we’re humans.
“Okay,” I say, but it comes out all muffled.
“You’ll pray?” he asks.
“No…okay.” I break a small smile.
“Ahhh…see how easy it is to be wrong?” he winks.
Oh God, definitely panty dropping…
And I’m afraid that I might already be dropping my painfully earned defenses.
 Joel

GRAMMY’ S PARTY WAS A HUGE SUCCESS . I THOUGHT ABOUT INVITING DELIA, BUT I FIGURED SHE
needed to work as the business hours weren’t finished and the party was in ten minutes. Kinda my
M.O. If I’m not late, then I’m not on time.
I wrote down my number on the receipt, and asked Delia to text me hers.
But she never did. I checked my phone every thirty seconds and Mom even commented on how I
was distracted. I decided not to say anything to her because she’s always getting her hopes up that I’ll
find someone.
I decided to swing by Dirty Hoes Plants & Décor in the morning the next day. I know Cali
Marcus from high school.
Maybe she’ll give me Delia’s number.
Yeah, right, an employer giving a customer an employee’s number. That sounds like a quick trip to
a law office. And I’m not one to beg.
At least not too hard.
I pull into a front parking place. For a Saturday they’re not very busy. Grammy loved her plant
and volunteered me to come to her house to plant it, of course. That’s okay, she said she’d make me
my favorite meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Nothing is better on a cool autumn evening
than that meal.
I watch through the window like a dumbass creeper for just a minute. If I see her, I don’t know
what I’ll do. It’s like being faced with the ultimate choice—go in and get totally shot down or don’t
go in and just imagine that she’ll text me with hers eventually.
I sit in my truck for minutes.
There is a third choice.
I go in, I ask her to dinner a second time, and she agrees. Then I get her number and we make
plans. Sounds like the choice I want.
The woman has taken up space in my head all night. And during my shower this morning I had to
rock my socks off to just get my cock to give me a minute of rest. All the blood had been his and it’s
not easy to sleep on your stomach with a hard-on. And I don’t sleep on my back…football injuries
took their toll, torn ligaments, and bruised spine over and over, make for bad bed partners.
Yet I would have played again and again.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
I jump at the sound.
“You’re creeping out Mari and Cali!” Delia says with tip of her head, hands firmly planted on her
hips, wide and full as they are.
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