by Cari Quinn
“Absolutely not.” He shuddered at the thought.
“Are we going to take an actual lunch break for once?”
Alexa rolled her eyes at Nellie. “You’ve worked here two days. Stop acting like you’re dealing with horrible work conditions.”
“Hey, let me do that,” Dillon said, rushing forward to help Nellie pull a foldaway table from the wall.
“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” she grumbled, stepping aside just the same.
He set up the table in the small open space in the prep area and they spread out with their lunch. Alexa stiffened each time a customer came into the shop—which happened twice—but she slipped into her business mode without faltering.
While Alexa led a customer over to the glass-fronted refrigerated case, Nellie leaned close to Dillon. “She’s a tough nut to crack, but don’t give up on her. I guarantee she’s worth it.”
He didn’t doubt that for a second, but the benefit was coming up fast. Once the gala talk overtook over the town, the chances of his remaining handyman Dillon James in her eyes were nil. This whole pseudo-relationship was living on borrowed time—probably why it felt so incredibly precious.
That’s not why, and you know it.
“You’ve been friends a long time,” he said instead.
“Yeah. Since high school.” Nellie toyed with the pop-top on her caffeine-free soda. “She’s had a rough year. First me and Jake, then Roz. She needs someone in her life, Dillon.”
“She has you,” he said, fully aware of what she meant. But he couldn’t face the hope in her trusting eyes when he was nothing but a deceitful jerk. Worse, a deceitful jerk sinking deeper by the moment.
“She does. And I’d do anything for her, but I’m not there for her in the middle of the night. She’s terrified everything’s going to shatter around her.” She glanced at Alexa as she chatted animatedly about the small pots of tiny silk red and white flowers she’d set by the cash register.
“They’re great for offices, when you need a little cheer to spruce up the space,” Alexa said to her customer. “I’m thinking of doing actual arrangements in the same style, so that people can have a real one for home and the faux one for work. Helps make the day brighter, you know?”
“Oh yes, I do. That’s a great idea!”
Dillon smothered a smile as he glanced back at Nellie, who cupped her stomach while she watched Alexa. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Nellie smiled. “Mother Hen syndrome. It waxes and wanes. Would help if you agreed to marry her and love her always.” When he started to cough, she giggled and leaned forward to thump him on the back. “Sorry. Kidding.” She beseeched him with big eyes. “Though you could get your wedding flowers cheap. Just saying.”
He had to chuckle. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
His phone rang and he pulled it out, seeing the number of his event planner, Julie. She usually didn’t contact him unless she’d hit a snag with the benefit, which he absolutely did not need. “I have to take this. Sorry.” When Nellie waved him off, he answered the call.
They chatted about the usual sort of thing—ways to motivate more donors to contribute to the charity auction, advertising possibilities, and an issue with the caterer—and he wondered why she hadn’t just waited until their next planning meeting. Now that the benefit was getting closer, they’d scheduled more of them to finalize last-minute details. He’d blown off the last couple of them, because he’d been busy. With Alexa.
As much as he loved the benefit, he didn’t regret spending the time with her. It was way too precious.
“I know you don’t have a date for the gala yet,” Julie said, drawing his attention. “Neither do I.” She lowered her voice seductively. “We could be good together, Dillon.”
His gaze shot to Alexa, still occupied with her customer. But she wouldn’t be for long.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. There’s someone else.” Someone he’d finally decided to ask to come with him to the benefit. He didn’t want his stepfather to set him up with some china dish. He wanted—no, he needed Alexa to be at his side.
He just had to come clean first. And hope she didn’t tell him to go to hell.
“I asked around and everyone says you’re not seeing anyone,” Julie said.
He hissed out a breath. What the hell was she doing, running polls about his sex life? “I don’t check in with the town when I sleep with someone.”
She chuckled. “You used to enjoy having everyone see what gorgeous woman was on your arm now. What’s wrong with this one that you need to hide her away?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he snapped, louder than he’d intended. Remembering Nellie, he glanced up to see her glaring at him.
Fucking fabulous. Could he dig his hole any deeper?
Once he hung up with Julie, he leaned closer to Nellie. “I’m asking Alexa to the Helping Hands benefit. I just haven’t had a chance yet.” If he told her the truth first and she realized he’d only wanted to help her, maybe she’d even want to go with him.
Hell, a guy could dream.
She nodded and firmed her mouth. “Don’t hurt her, Dillon. If you can’t do right by her, just end it now. She cares about you, and she’s way too fragile to deal with anyone’s bullshit.”
“I know.” He shut his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt her,” he said, and prayed it was true.
…
By the time Alexa made it back over to Dillon and Nellie, the happy mood at the table had cooled considerably. Before she could begin to figure out why, Nellie bounced to her feet and claimed she need to pee “something fierce.”
Not about to get in her best friend’s way on that matter, Alexa sat beside Dillon and picked up her abandoned sandwich. Her appetite had deserted her as usual, but she couldn’t deny the sandwich tasted great.
The pensive look on Dillon’s face, however, didn’t go down half as well.
“What’s the matter?” Alexa murmured, almost afraid to ask. Were Nellie and Dillon already not getting along? Everyone and their little doggie loved Nellie. “Problem between you and Nellie?”
“No.” The smile he gave her soothed her concerns. Mostly. “Why would there be?”
“No reason. She just looked a little green when she ran out of here.”
“She is pregnant.” He sounded almost defensive.
“Yeah.” Alexa picked at her sandwich, surprised by her disappointment at the possibility of friction between Dillon and her best friend.
It wasn’t as if she and Dillon were anything serious or even really anything at all. The past week had been fun, sure, but they weren’t long-term material. The guy enjoyed manual labor and got off on spreadsheets, for pity’s sake. They were from different worlds, completely opposite poles. They’d stumbled over some emotional common ground here and there, but that had been accidental. And temporary.
Keep trying to convince yourself.
Suddenly aware that he was staring at her, she blurted, “Where do you fish?”
“There are a couple places, but most often Gillie Lake. East end, near the woods. There’s this pier that’s just big enough for me and a couple of other guys. It’s a quiet spot.”
“Thought you had a problem with eager-beaver morning types.”
“Actually I fish in the afternoon, usually around twilight.” He rubbed his nose against hers until she had no choice but to grin. He had that effect on her way too often. “When it’s a clear night and not too hot, that’s where I go.”
She almost asked what entertained him about getting chewed up by bugs and then carving up an innocent creature when he could get one already cleaned and ready to go at the grocery store, but she bit her tongue. It was far too early in their not-quite-a-relationship to show him her crazy. “That’s nice,” she said instead, pretending not to notice how his lips twitched.
“What time do you close today?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Eight.” Her own came out scratchier than she expected, so she
cleared her throat. God, what those jewel-blue irises and inky lashes could do to a girl if she wasn’t constantly on guard. “I stay open later on Fridays because we close at two on Saturdays. Roz was convinced that a lot of people appreciated the shop being open later on Fridays because of last-minute dates.”
“Eight, huh?” He leaned close and his scent wafted over her, aftershave and the faintest hint of laminate. Damn if it didn’t make her nipples harden. “If I come back then, will you spend your night with me?”
She swallowed the rush of excitement his words caused. “The whole night?”
He smiled. “As much as you can handle, Conroy.”
Right then she could’ve tackled him and ripped off all his clothing without batting a lash. “Sounds like a plan.” Then she smiled, suddenly eager to throw him as off-balance as he’d been so easily making her all week. “Though you could sweeten the pot a little, if you wanted.”
His eyes fired with interest. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” She grinned as Nellie reemerged from the bathroom, sash miraculously still in place. “You could help us.”
By the end of the afternoon, she had to hand it to Dillon. He didn’t give in easily.
He stuck with her and Nellie, fumbling through making boutonnieres. They consisted of a red carnation, a spray of greenery, and baby’s breath, wrapped tight with green floral tape and finished off with a small yellow bow. She and Nellie could fly through them, mainly because their fingers were nimble and quick. But Dillon, who worked with his hands day in and day out, seemed all thumbs.
That he had to take half a dozen phone calls didn’t help with his learning curve. The guy was in serious demand. He must be doing much better as a handyman than she’d assumed. Considering his amazing business sense it wasn’t too much of a stretch.
More than once she asked him if he needed to leave, but he waved her off. And then answered another call.
Finally they settled into a routine. Dillon worked without complaint, even occasionally singing along in a falsetto to the songs in Nellie’s pop mix CD.
A couple times, customers wandered in and usually wandered out just as quickly. One of them left behind a ripped-out page from a women’s magazine that she’d probably return for later. It depicted a fall arrangement that looked like a home art project: a vertical foam cone wrapped in glittery leaves and streamers, with yellow and orange blooms behind it. Not the kind of thing Divine carried, that was for sure. They kept everything high-end. Too high-end, some claimed, like the magazine clutcher from that afternoon.
And that was even after she’d put out the little teaser items on the front counter as Dillon had suggested.
“Cute, isn’t it?” Dillon picked up the page Alexa had tossed aside. “Looks fun to make.”
“You had trouble with a simple boutonniere.”
“I got the hang of it eventually. You underestimate the skill involved in what you do.”
“You twist a couple stems together and wind in a ribbon. No skill involved.” All right, so that wasn’t true. She needed to get over her low self-confidence thing. She’d never had that problem before the past year.
“So wrong.” Idly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze still on the craft project. “These could really drive in traffic. They’d be cheaper, and the customer could customize them depending on the flower they chose. You could do all kinds of things with them. I know, my—” He broke off, his Adam’s apple jerking. “I bet my mom would love one.”
Disturbed he’d arrived at the place she hadn’t felt comfortable going herself, she snatched back the magazine. “This looks like something a grocery store would sell.”
“Maybe. But that’s because it’s accessible.” He rested his hand on the small of her back. “In this economy, that’s what people want. They want pretty things just like anyone else, but they can’t afford to spend a lot of money on them. So you appeal to every kind of customer, then when their money situation improves, they’ll be back.”
Logical. She couldn’t deny that. But right now, she wanted to be stubborn.
Still, what would it hurt to do a couple of them and put them on the counter? Thanks to her trip to the craft store the other day, she had the stuff for the fall window displays she hadn’t made yet. This would actually work perfectly with what she had on hand, and she could add her own flair to this basic design. All she’d need to get were the foam cones, or something similar.
Why not give it a shot?
She glanced at her watch. A few hours ’til closing meant they’d have to do something to keep busy, since they’d already finished with everything on her agenda for the afternoon. Including the boutonnieres.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, turning at the sound of the cold case closing. Nellie had finally put away all the flowers, so they’d be moist and fresh for Haven Prep’s formal tomorrow night. The party coordinator would be coming by bright and early Saturday to pick them up, though Alexa could tell she’d doubted a shop the size of Divine could get the job done. But Alexa had been prepared to pull out all the stops, even calling in her parents and Jake if necessary.
Luckily she and Nellie—and Dillon—had gotten the job done just fine.
“You’re welcome. Even though I suck.” His sulky expression made her grin.
She cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a quick kiss. “You blew off your whole afternoon to stay here with us and I know you had a ton of stuff to do. I really appreciate it.”
“No biggie.”
“Will you get in trouble for not being available?”
Something slipped through his gaze before he shifted to kiss her fingertips. Just that simple gesture set her toes tingling. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I’m actually due back at a donor house this afternoon. Remember that roof I mentioned yesterday? I do volunteer work as part of the Helping Hands charity.” She didn’t quite get why his voice lowered, and his brows pulled tight. “A lot of work for them actually. They provide houses for disabled vets or disadvantaged families, as a way to help get them back on their feet.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest. He must have an understanding boss, if he let Dillon fit in volunteer work around his regular duties. Unless Dillon was self-employed. He’d never said. “That’s great. If you need to go, it’s okay. I have Nellie.”
She glanced up as Nellie rushed toward them, cell clutched in one hand. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Jake’s coming by any minute and he scored tickets to tonight’s show at the civic center. It’s a knockoff of Cirque du Soleil. I’ve been dying to go, but it’s been sold out forever.”
“No problem.” Alexa smiled and mentally shifted her plans. So much for picking up the foam things. She couldn’t leave the store unattended. “Have a good time. And thanks again for all your help. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I can handle the store on my own tomorrow. Enjoy the show, and I’ll see you Monday.”
“Awesome. Thanks. Have a good weekend.” Nellie looked between them, her brows drawing together. “Both of you.”
Dillon’s phone beeped. “Sorry,” he said, glancing at the readout. “Duty calls.”
Alexa nodded and affixed a bright smile onto her face. Boy, he was definitely a wanted man, and not just by her. “Sure thing. I’m good.”
He frowned at the moody gray sky beyond the front windows. “Where’d the sun go?”
“We’re due for storms tonight.”
“It’s been one after another lately. You have a generator here?”
She didn’t know whether to growl or smile at the concern in his tone. “Yes.” With a light shove, she nudged him toward the door. “Go do your manly thing.”
His mouth crooked into a half-smile as he looked back at her. Lingeringly. “I’ll be back at eight. Wait for me.”
“I will.” She returned his smile—and his kiss when he bent to brush his mouth over hers. She shut the door behind him, her smile spreading. A night
with Dillon promised to be very interesting indeed.
…
One night turned into two. Then three. Somehow before she knew it, they’d spent a whole series of nights together. He usually didn’t get to her place until late since he seemed to work all the damn time. That he arrived fresh from a shower and usually with the glow of the sun on his cheeks was a happy bonus.
It wasn’t just about the sex either. They talked. And laughed. God, did they laugh. Night before last she’d helped him put together a scale model of his Harley-Davidson, and he’d helped her decorate her apartment a little more. Which had mostly consisted of nailing pictures and kissing and more nailing…
Last night he hadn’t been able to get away from the donor house he was working on, so she’d kept busy making arrangements to fill the hours he wasn’t around. Not that she’d noticed his absence or anything. She’d—wisely, it turned out—followed through on his suggestion for the fall design. She’d already had to make more cones twice over, so she raised the price by fifteen percent. It was still more than reasonable, proven by how fast they sold out.
By Wednesday afternoon, she’d made half a dozen more with Nellie’s help, plus a couple specialty ones with fancier flowers, more greenery and a slightly inflated price tag. Travis did a splashy poster for the front window—she shuddered only a little—and they sat back to wait for more customers.
They came, with money in their outstretched fists.
It was freaking unreal. She needed to implement some of Dillon’s other suggestions in a hurry, since the guy clearly knew what he was doing. Must be a natural at business or something.
Alexa faced her web designer with her hands on her hips. “I need that site done,” she said in her sternest voice, unwilling to be fazed by Travis’s slightly adoring gaze. “I want it launched within two weeks. There’s online business we’re missing.”And that way if this place gets foreclosed, I’ll still have a storefront. But she didn’t say that.
“I’m on it.”
“And that newsletter we talked about?”
His puppy dog look made her sigh inwardly. “On that too.”
