Don't Touch My Petunia

by Tara Sheets

  “Of course,” he said, as if that was a dumb question.

  “Paint the crown molding and baseboards, too?” Logan was trying to gauge whether or not the kid was good with detail work.

  Kevin’s face fell. “Nah, we don’t have that molding stuff. Our house is kind of small.” He eyed the florist shop again, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” Logan asked. “About why you keep looking at the shop like it’s going to bite you?”

  The kid kicked a small rock with his shoe. “I used to work in there. For a little while.”

  “And you didn’t like it?” Logan thought of Juliette’s cluttered shelves and how she was fiercely protective of her plants. It might not have been easy for him.

  “No, it was fine. The boss lady was cool. She just didn’t like that I tried to grow my plant in her store.”

  That didn’t sound like Juliette. “Why not?”

  He kicked another rock with his shoe. “Never mind. I gotta go. Thanks, anyway.”

  “Wait.” Logan approached Kevin until they were standing face to face. “If I were going to hire you for this job”—he couldn’t believe he was saying this—“then we’d have to be straight with each other. Man to man.”

  Kevin looked surprised, but he stood up taller.

  Logan leveled his gaze at the kid. “Why did you get fired from the florist shop? Were you stealing?”

  “No!” Kevin said quickly. “I wouldn’t do that. I was just trying to grow my pot plant, is all. Because she’s really good at growing stuff. But she didn’t like what I did so she gave me some smelly soap and then fired me.”

  Logan pressed his mouth together and turned away to feign interest in the shop, but really it was because he was trying not to smile. Only Juliette would give her fired employees parting gifts. When he turned back around, his face was deadpan. “I appreciate your honesty, but I don’t tolerate drugs on this job. I’ll be working with power tools. Most of them are dangerous, even for a sober person.”

  “I don’t even smoke pot anymore,” Kevin said with feeling. “I haven’t done it since I got fired.”

  “Really?” That was hard to believe.

  “Swear on my life,” Kevin promised, holding up his fingers in a symbolic gesture of honesty. Logan didn’t have the heart to tell him that the rocker symbol didn’t really count. Maybe Kevin was just that clueless. He didn’t seem to have a dad in the picture.

  Hell. Logan rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. He was going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to give the kid a chance. Every person deserved a chance to start fresh. He knew that better than anyone. “All right. I’ll hire you for two weeks. On a trial basis.”

  “Yesss.” Kevin did a fist pump.

  “You can meet me at my house after seven. I’ll send you the address. We’ll be sanding floors and ripping out wallpaper later in the week.”

  Kevin’s face lit up. “Aw, man, I’m so glad I got this gig. It was either this, or I’d have to sell dog outfits at this old lady’s shop on the waterfront. Thanks, man. Uh . . . boss.”

  Logan shook his head.

  “Boss man?”

  “Just call me Logan.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Kevin said, before catching himself. “I mean Logan.”

  * * *

  Juliette sat behind the front counter, balancing her feet on the bottom rung of the stool as she stared glumly at her last message to Romeo.

  Hi, Romeo!

  Hope you’re having fun on your trip. Everything’s going great here. We’re right on schedule and I’m about to interview people for the part-time help. I’ll keep you posted. Juliette ♥

  She set her phone down and pressed her lips together. At first, she’d written him a scathing e-mail, listing all the reasons Logan was driving her crazy. It even had bullet points and sub bullet points. But the last thing she wanted was for Romeo to think she wasn’t able to handle things. So she’d decided to paint a rosy picture and send a short, professional note, instead. Even though it sucked.

  As for the employee interviews, it hadn’t technically been a lie. She would be interviewing people, just as soon as she got around to putting a HELP WANTED sign in the window. She’d been dragging her feet, hoping she could conveniently overlook it. Except, Logan might notice and mention it to Romeo. Not that he’d been paying much attention to her today. Ever since their whatever-that-was yesterday, he’d been avoiding her. He didn’t even come in the back room that morning. Instead he’d shown up outside and went straight to work.

  She set a vase of gladiolas on a shelf near the side window. And sweet mother of steel-coated washboards, there he was. Shirtless again. It was difficult not to stare. Bella was out there, too, chatting away. She’d come buzzing around for the second time in three days. Logan didn’t seem to mind, either. Probably because the stupid Desire perfume had finally kicked in.

  The front door flew open and Kat rushed in with Hank the Tank tripping along at her heels. The tiny dog’s head barely reached the top of Kat’s combat boots. Today he wore a black leather collar with spikes.

  “Hey, Juliette,” Kat said breathlessly. “Can I get a dozen red roses like, in a vase or whatever? Mirage is having another one of her trademark tantrums.”

  Juliette went to the cold case and pulled out a ceramic vase of long-stemmed red roses. “You want me to tie a ribbon around it?”

  “Barbed wire would be better,” Kat said moodily. “The director says Mirage needs a peace offering. He thinks it’ll make her happy. Which is dumb, because the only way a vase of flowers would make her happy is if the vase was made from solid gold and filled with French champagne.”

  Juliette unfurled a length of ribbon from a spool beneath the register, cutting enough to tie around the neck of the vase. “What’s going on?”

  “Mirage is freaking out because she gained five pounds. Which is also dumb, because what’s up? That lady needs to eat.” Kat groaned and scrubbed her face with both hands. “You have no idea how much I just want to hide from those people. They’re all a bunch of entitled, overgrown babies. Every single one.” She gave Juliette an apologetic glance. “Oh, sorry. Aren’t you dating Brock, or something?”

  Juliette pursed her lips to one side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘dating,’ but we are going to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Well, brace yourself,” Kat said. “He’s going to talk about his old surf show the whole time.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Juliette said in amusement.

  Kat shook her head. “You know what? Don’t listen to me. I’m not the best judge of character, anyway. If I had my way, I’d hang around animals all day and only deal with people when absolutely necessary. This job is just stressing me out.”

  “Did you try using the Bee Chill soap I made?”

  “I tried it, but I’m still worked up.” She lifted a hand to massage her temple. “Don’t get me wrong, the soap is awesome and smells amazing, but it’s hard to relax when your roommates are going into WWF smackdown mode all the time.”

  “Are you using it every day?” She couldn’t be. Sometimes people didn’t realize they needed to bathe in it a few times for the charm to take effect.

  “No, I only tried washing my hands with it, to be honest.”

  “There’s the problem,” Juliette said. “You have to keep it in your shower and use it a few times in a row. Trust me—that stuff really works.”

  “Okay, will do,” Kat said glumly. “I think I just messed up accepting this gig. There’s no place to get away. Even on my two days off, I have nowhere to hide.”

  “Come hide here,” Juliette said. “It’s always peaceful and—” Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath.

  “What?”

  “You could come here and sit on this stool,” Juliette said in excitement, pointing to the wooden stool behind the cash register. “On one of your days off. Or all of them—whatever you want.”

  “Um, okay.” Kat looked doubtfull
y at the stool. “Sounds . . . fun?”

  “I mean, you could work here,” Juliette said. It would be so perfect. Kat needed to get away, and Juliette needed to hire someone to appease Romeo. And the best part of the plan was she genuinely liked Kat. She felt a connection with her that she didn’t usually feel with people she’d just met.

  Kat’s mouth formed an O. “Well, now, I don’t really know a lot about plants. And while I do love the atmosphere. . .” She trailed off, staring in rapt attention out the window.

  Juliette followed Kat’s gaze to the glowing, tanned figure of Logan sawing away at a piece of lumber. His chiseled back and arm muscles flexed with every drag and push of the saw. And he was really wearing those jeans.

  “That’s just Logan,” Juliette said with a wave of her hand. “He’s doing our remodel for the next few weeks. Drives me freaking crazy, but I’m stuck with him because he’s my boss’s nephew. He’s stubborn as a bull.”

  Kat nodded, still staring out the window. “I’m really good with animals.”

  “Look,” Juliette said. “My boss has been urging me to hire someone to work at least one day a week in the shop. And lord knows I could use a day off, but so far I’ve had zero luck finding someone who can do the job. Do you want to work here on one of your days off?”

  Kat chewed her bottom lip and took a long look around. “It is kind of like an oasis.”

  Juliette flushed with pride and straightened her spine. “That’s because plants are my specialty. And I make sure all my plants are happy. I think this is one of the most restful places on the island. Minus the bull outside, that is. You wouldn’t have to do much. Just sit here and ring up customers. The only reason I need you is to stop my boss from nagging me.”

  “I get the naggy boss thing, believe me,” Kat said, rolling her eyes. “Vespa wants me to find a groomer who specializes in creative coloring so she can dye Hank’s fur hot pink. I keep stalling, for obvious reasons.”

  “Poor Hank.” Juliette looked over at the dog, who was trotting around the shop like he owned the place. He already fit in so well. She turned back to Kat. “When are your days off?”

  “It varies,” Kat said. “I always get at least a couple of days off each week. Sometimes three, if I’m lucky.”

  “How about working here on Saturday from noon to six? You could bring a book or a laptop—whatever you want. You can even bring Hank.”

  Kat paused just long enough for Juliette to think about bribery. She had a cousin who baked magic cupcakes, and friends working at the best salon on the island. Surely there was something she could offer to make the deal more appealing. Perhaps a month’s supply of her newest Tranquility body spray, guaranteed to invoke peace?

  “Okay,” Kat finally said. “I like the idea of getting away from the houseboat. And I could use the extra money.”

  “Perfect.” Juliette did a little jump and clapped her hands. She felt as though the sun had just come out from behind a dark cloud. Things were working out. Aside from Logan and his meddling, the shop was running smoothly. Now she could e-mail Romeo and tell him she’d found a part-time employee. He was going to be impressed with her ability to get things done, and that was priority one. Impress Romeo with her abilities, then swoop in when he announced his retirement, and swoop out with the greatest prize of all.

  She just had to be patient for a little while longer, and everything was going to come up roses.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You have to play booty songs,” Gertie insisted. “People don’t want to stand around at a wedding reception drinking tea with their pinkies in the air. They want to shake it up and dance. They want to have fun.”

  Juliette scribbled the suggestion in her yellow notebook. Molly and Gertie sat next to her at a bistro table in Emma’s shop. It was lunchtime on Friday, and they’d all gathered to help Emma make a song list for her wedding reception, which was turning out to be an eclectic mix of everything under the sun, now including “booty shakers.”

  “I’m cool with whatever you guys want the DJ to play,” Emma said, joining them with a tray of cappuccinos. “As long as I don’t have to walk down the aisle to ‘Baby Got Back.’”

  “Speaking of nice butts,” Gertie said, stirring her cappuccino, “how’s Logan these days?”

  Juliette slouched in her chair with a cupcake and a frown. “I’m going to kill him, you guys.”

  “What did he do this time?” Molly checked her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Is he rearranging your seed shelf again?”

  “He better not.” Just the other day, she’d caught him trying to organize her seed containers alphabetically. She was furious. Before he’d started, she knew exactly where everything was. Now she had to stop and think about alphabet letters. Sure, it made sense to everyone else, but it wasn’t her system. And she wasn’t happy about how he’d done it for efficiency’s sake, without asking first.

  “Today I sent a nicely worded, professional e-mail to Romeo,” she said with growing annoyance. “Requesting that his stupid nephew focus his stupid attention outside, and stop messing with all my freaking stuff.”

  Molly tossed the compact back into her purse. “Sounds very professional. Did you capitalize the F in freaking?”

  “Romeo hasn’t responded yet,” Juliette said glumly.

  Gertie stirred raw sugar into her cappuccino. “Well, he is on vacation. Checking e-mails isn’t going to be his first priority.”

  “Give it time, Jules,” Emma said. “You only have to get along with Logan for another couple of weeks, or so, before Romeo’s back. Just try to ignore him.”

  “I am trying,” Juliette wailed. “But every time I turn around he’s there. Changing something. I caught him measuring the front windows the other day—did I tell you guys that? He said he was going to install some glass shelves for the plants.” She glared at her friends.

  They stared back.

  Emma cleared her throat. “That sounds . . . good?”

  Juliette flung her hands in the air. “Of course it’s good, but he didn’t ask me first. That’s the thing. He just thinks he can do whatever he wants because Romeo told him to organize things.”

  “And that makes you mad because you feel like you’ve been there longer, and you deserve to know what his plans are,” Emma offered.

  “Exactly.” Juliette scooped frosting off her cupcake and tasted it. It was dark and sweet, with a drizzle of caramel and a hint of sea salt. As usual, Emma’s latest creation was nothing short of a masterpiece. The cupcake was so good, she almost forgot to be annoyed.

  “At least Logan’s doing a good job building the stuff out back,” Molly pointed out. “And he’s easy on the eye.”

  “He is that, girlfriend,” Gertie said. “You can’t deny it.”

  “I don’t find him attractive,” Juliette lied, taking a bite of her cupcake and chewing furiously.

  Gertie gave her a long-suffering glance.

  Molly looked incredulous.

  Emma looked like she was trying not to smile.

  “What?” Juliette demanded. “I’m serious. He’s just not . . . he’s . . .” She searched for reasons. Anything! “Too tall, for one thing.”

  “Why would that be a problem?” Molly asked. “Tall’s nice.”

  “Not when you have to crane your neck up every time you’re trying to tell him what to do. And then he just stands there with those big”—she fluttered her hands in the air—“shoulders. And he stares down at you like you’re funny or something. And then he says nothing. Nothing! Just stands there all silent like some big lumberjack Tarzan.” She frowned and crossed her arms.

  “Mmm,” Molly said. “Yeah, those guys are the worst.”

  “And he’s too active,” Juliette said in a rush. “He’s always marching into the kitchen and then marching around outside with his dumb hammer, or saw, or whatever. Just everywhere, hammering and making noise, and not even bothering to keep a shirt on. It’s unbearable.”

  “You poor thing.�
� Gertie shook her head slowly. “No woman should have to deal with that.”

  “Maybe you should try to get to know him better,” Emma said. “See him outside work. He might grow on you.”

  “Hells no,” Juliette said with feeling. “Anyway, he has this praying mantis of a girl hanging around. She’d murder me in my sleep if I got in her way.” Juliette thought of Bella’s plan to ensnare Logan into wedded bliss. “But once she finds out he’s not the perfect man she thinks he is? She’s going to bite his head off. And I’ll be watching and laughing and clapping from the front row.” She narrowed her eyes. “With my popcorn and Milk Duds.”

  Gertie lifted a brow. “Clearly you’ve given this some thought.”

  “But never mind him,” Juliette said. “I have real news.” She waited a few beats for impact. “I have a date with Brock Templeton.”

  As expected, the conversation erupted in shrieks of glee and disbelief, and she spent the rest of the lunch hour explaining how it happened. What he was wearing. How he looked when he asked. What he was wearing again—so Molly could better visualize—and all the other details.

  By the time Juliette returned back to the shop, she was feeling more relaxed and actually looking forward to dinner with Brock that night.

  Juliette kicked off her shoes and took her hair down, massaging her head as she walked into the front room to remove the OUT TO LUNCH sign from the window. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until something landed in a garbage bin beside her.

  She spun around, startled.

  Logan was across the room, lounging behind the counter. Several wadded up pieces of paper were scattered near the register.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

  He spared her a glance, stretched his arm above his head, and sent a paper ball sailing into the wastebasket. “Taking a break.”

  Annoyance bubbled to the surface. “Shouldn’t you be . . . I don’t know . . . building something?”

  “I’m waiting on the landscaper to drop off the slate rock.” He focused on the garbage can.