by Alina Jacobs
After His Peonies
A Romantic Comedy
Alina Jacobs
Contents
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Mailing List
1. Meghan
2. Hunter
3. Meghan
4. Hunter
5. Meghan
6. Hunter
7. Meghan
8. Hunter
9. Meghan
10. Hunter
11. Meghan
12. Hunter
13. Meghan
14. Hunter
15. Meghan
16. Hunter
17. Meghan
18. Hunter
19. Meghan
20. Hunter
21. Meghan
22. Hunter
23. Meghan
24. Hunter
25. Meghan
26. Hunter
27. Meghan
28. Hunter
29. Meghan
30. Hunter
31. Meghan
32. Hunter
33. Meghan
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2019 by Alina Jacobs
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Created with Vellum
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Check out other books about characters mentioned in this one on my website:
http://alinajacobs.com/books.html
Synopsis
Hunter
Rules are meant to be broken. Except for one—Women can't get enough peonies.
Even the girl in front of me in line is admiring the peonies in my hand.
While I need these particular flowers for my latest plot, I'll still give Meghan the biggest, thickest bouquet I can find.
It's flattering how much she wants my peonies—
And I don't mind personally delivering.
Meghan
I love rules. They make life simple.
One rule I have for my future boyfriend? Fresh flowers every week.
The hot guy behind me in line had a gorgeous bouquet. He was perfect boyfriend material…
Until Mr. Perfect broke the unwritten rule of New York City lunch hour and found a devious way to cut the line.
He took my spot, making me late for a meeting, and then had the audacity to hand me his peonies as he waltzed out with what should have been my sandwich!
A wink and flowers from a handsome guy won't fix my disaster of a life.
My career as a lawyer is failing before it even started.
I live in a tiny, crumbling apartment.
I have to deal with my obnoxious supervisor who seems intent on taking Hunter's peonies for herself
Except that his peonies (and other flowers) are mine.
They were delivered to my desk at work!
Bouquet aside, Hunter breaks all my rules. I know I should ignore him. I know it's going to be an epic disaster.
But when he shows up at my door shirtless, with another excessive bouquet, well, I have to say screw the rules; I want his peonies and the rest of him too!
This is a fun novella that is a prequel kickoff to my new romantic comedy series about the Svensson Brothers! This RomCom features a boiling hot romance, the largest selection of hot brothers to ever grace your e-reader, oh and a massive freaking cliffhanger! *sorry-not-sorry-since-it's-a-prequal-and-I-pinky-promise-I-will-make-it-right*
To the electrician that didn’t tell me he was cutting off the power and made me lose a ton of work…I have nothing nice to say so I won’t say anything at all..
Acknowledgments
A big thank you to Red Adept Editing for editing and proofreading.
And finally a big thank you to all the readers! I had a great time writing this book, and I hope it put a smile on your face!
Mailing List
Get a free short story about Jack and Chloe when you join my mailing list!
alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html
1
Meghan
I love a good orderly line—pencils arranged neatly on a desk, shoes organized in a closet, and people waiting in an orderly fashion to be served. The lunch line at Cicely's Sandwich Shop was very orderly. Nylon retractable barriers looped people around in a confined area and kept them from winding out the door. I appreciated it when the lines didn't go out the door. It was too cold to stand outside.
While neat and contained, the line was also slow. I checked the time on my phone and tapped my foot in irritation. Thanks to Karen and her obsession with making my life at the law office as miserable as possible, I didn't have long for lunch. I also hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, so I was starving. But I deserved my favorite sandwich, even if I didn't really have the money for it. It had been a horrible week, and it was only Tuesday.
I checked the time on my phone again and sighed, looking around the restaurant. There was a couple a few places in front of me in line. The guy kissed the girl on the cheek, and my chest clenched in jealousy. They looked like they were very in love. I bet he was buying her lunch.
In the unlikely event I scrounged up a boyfriend, I had a list of criteria he needed to hit. His clothes had to be arranged neatly in drawers and closets, Marie Kondo style. He needed to be tall, good-looking, and fond of romantic gestures, including surprising me with lunch. Not all the time—I'm not a gold digger—but wouldn't it have been nice today if he had shown up at the office with my favorite sandwich? Furthermore, my perfect boyfriend would never make horrible, unforgivable mistakes, only cute, endearing slip-ups.
The biggest requirement was to send me fresh flowers at least once a week. I envisioned displaying them in the swanky apartment I had been sure I would have by now but that somehow hadn't materialized. When I'd entered law school, my professors had sworn up and down that the practice of law was a ticket to riches. However, when I’d finally graduated and passed the bar, it turned out the law field was oversaturated.
I checked my watch again. There was another month to go on my probation period at Harrington-Thurlow, and I could not be late for this meeting. The law firm I worked for was representing Walter Holbrook in his high-profile divorce. I was fortunate enough to be on the team. Unfortunately, that meant Karen was my boss. She was determined to prevent me from proving that I deserved to be a real employee, not an intern, which was my current job title even though I was a bona-fide, licensed attorney.
As the line crept forward, I fantasized about all the things I would buy when I finally made associate. New tights for sure. Mine were held together by prayers and nail polish. I would also splurge on several nice suits. The two I currently owned I switched off wearing every other day. I didn't think the pay raise would be enough for a nicer apartment, but at the very least, I could schedule weekly blowouts to smooth my frizzy hair and finally start dating.
Hearing a rustle behind me in line, I jolted back to reality. Over the smell of baked bread and cold cuts, I smelled the unmistakable scent of peonies. They were my favorite flowers. A nice bouquet of peonies made me feel as if I were dancing through a prewar, high-ceilinged apartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hint of the blush of the bouquet.
I slowly turned around, pretending I was digging in my purse for something. I was a sucker for a nice bunch of flowers. From under my eyelashes, I studied the bouquet, feeling pangs of envy for t
he girlfriend or whichever lucky woman they were for. The peonies were in tones of soft pink and champagne, accented by just the right amount of greenery. The whole bouquet was even wrapped in white parchment paper like it would have been in the 1950s instead of the now-ubiquitous cellophane.
The arm that held the bouquet was black clad with a cuff-linked sleeve. My eyes darted up, and I saw the perfect guy. He was blond, tall, with broad shoulders. In another time, he might have been a Viking. Now he was domesticated—he clearly had a good job, probably as some sort of corporate mercenary, and I appreciated his impeccable taste in flowers. It was as if he’d jumped out of my criteria list for a perfect boyfriend and into my life.
Mr. Perfect's eyes looked up from his phone, and he met my gaze. Grey eyes widened slightly, and his mouth quirked in humor. I whirled around. Had he seen me staring?
I texted Kate, my roommate.
Meg: I think I found my future husband
Kate: Shut up. Where?
Meg: In line in the sandwich shop. Only problem...he's already taken
Kate: Wedding ring?
Meg: Flowers
Kate: ???
Meg: He's clearly buying them for his girlfriend. It's so romantic! He's so perfect! I bet he's surprising her at work with flowers and a nice lunch.
I heard Mr. Perfect Boyfriend shift his weight behind me, then the sound of someone typing on their phone. Was he texting her? Was he telling her how much he loved her and couldn't wait to see her?
I heard the slight noise of a telephone ringing. I checked the time. The guy at the counter had stopped making the slowest sandwiches ever and went to answer the landline hanging on the wall.
"Hi, yes," I heard Mr. Perfect Boyfriend behind me say. "I'd like to order a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich with pesto aioli…Chips are fine…"
That was my favorite sandwich! We had so much in common. I sighed then did a double take. Wait…was he placing an order?
"For pickup…Hunter."
He didn't—
"Thanks. I'll be here very shortly." I heard him disconnect the call and chuckle to himself.
He. Did. Not. Just. Do. That.
I watched the lone worker hang up the phone, ignore the sandwich he had been making, and start on a new one. I couldn't believe it. Mr. Perfect Boyfriend had broken the rules!
I whirled around, furious. "You can't just do that!"
"Do what?" He smirked at me.
"You're in line," I hissed. "You have to wait in line like everyone else."
"I can't help it that I'm smarter than all the sheeple here," he said, staring down at me.
"Are you calling me a sheep?" I demanded, hands on my hips.
"You’re puffy when you're angry, so maybe." The smug look on his face made me want to punch him. "You're welcome to call in an order, too."
"I'm not going to break the rules!" I sputtered. He looked at me, clearly amused and not at all ashamed.
"Pick up for Hunter," the worker announced
Hunter ducked under the nylon barrier and strolled up to the counter.
"That's me. Thank you very much."
The lone worker handed him a paper sack. I stared at it, salivating. As Hunter sauntered past me, he pulled out two of the blush-colored flowers from the bouquet and handed them to me.
"You should smile more," he said with a wink.
I glowered at him. "I don't want your stupid flowers."
"You don't want my peonies?" he said with a quirk of his eyebrow. Grinning broadly, he tucked the flowers into my purse.
"Have a nice lunch!" he said and walked out.
"Next!" the server called out.
I huffed up to the counter. "Could I please have a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich with pesto aioli?"
"We're all out," the server said. "That guy took the last of the prosciutto."
"How do you run out of food? It's not even one p.m.!" I screeched. "Is this the Soviet Union?"
"Miss, if you don't want to order, there are other people in line," the server said in a bored tone.
"Hurry it up! We're starving here!" someone shouted at me.
My face burned. I picked up a vomit-colored shake from the cold display under the counter and handed it to the cashier. I wouldn't have time to eat anything anyway.
As I walked out of Cicely's Sandwich Shop, still fuming at the sandwich-stealing Hunter, my phone rang.
"Where are you?" Karen's nasally voice whined from the speaker.
"I was just getting lunch," I told her, trying to juggle everything I was holding. I knew if Karen was calling me, then my lunch was over before it had even begun.
"We need to prep for the meeting. You can't spend an entire hour at lunch."
"The line…" I tried to explain as I hurried back to the office.
"Mr. Thurlow wants to know where the notated preliminary custody document is," she said in an annoyed tone.
"I don't have it," I replied feeling panic rising in my chest. Karen was the worst supervisor ever. She purposefully tried to set me up to fail, and any mistake she made she blamed on me.
"You were supposed to do it," Karen said. I could almost see her sitting primly at her desk with a sour look on her pinched face.
"I was?" Karen had never sent me those documents to review, I was sure of it. "I'm on my way back now. I will send you everything when I'm back at my desk," I promised.
"You better. You're still on probation," she said and hung up.
I jogged down the street back to the office. My suit was uncomfortably tight from all the stress eating, and I had never been that great at walking in heels, let alone running in them. I was simultaneously trying to sip the gag-inducing smoothie and check the email app on my phone. The flowers given to me by Hunter, formerly Mr. Perfect and now known as Mr. Sandwich-Stealer, bounced in my bag.
My phone rang again, and in my stressed-out state, my hand jerked, sending the nasty kale-and-seaweed smoothie all over my suit.
2
Hunter
I grinned to myself as I walked back to the Svensson & Svensson Law office.
The curvy brunette from the sandwich shop had been furious. What had she expected? It wasn't my fault. I took the road less traveled because it led to riches most people were too scared to grab. Rules were meant to be bent and oftentimes broken. Hence the peonies.
I had learned from the best, or perhaps the worst. Walter Holbrook had cheated me and my half brother out of our billion-dollar company. Oh, we had gotten a billion-dollar payout, but the company would have been worth far more than that.
Greg and I had moved on to bigger and better things, but I hadn’t moved past being screwed over. I was going to get Walter, and I had a plan. It required breaking some rules—and some peonies.
Danielle, Walter’s soon-to-be-ex-wife, was sitting in the office. She stood up when I walked in.
"Are those for me?" she purred, taking the flowers. For a mother of three, she had a great body. However, she was still older than my own now-deceased mother, so it was not as if I was looking to score. Still, rules needed to be bent, and Danielle was a key part of my plan.
"Of course. Only the best for our favorite client," I said, kissing her cheek.
"I'm probably your only high-profile client," she said, her hand lingering a bit too long on my waist.
My half brothers Josh and Eric came into the small hallway. "She's our high-profile client," Josh corrected. "The name of the firm is Svensson & Svensson, not Svensson, Svensson, & Svensson."
"I brought this case to you," I told my brothers. "You two need a high-profile win. Then your firm will take off, guaranteed."
"Well, we're not paying you," Eric said.
"Please," I snorted. "I'm here consulting. My only reward is to wipe the floor with Walter. Speaking of which." I gestured Danielle into the small glass-enclosed conference room.
"We have the discovery meeting at Harrington-Thurlow soon," Josh reminded me.
"This will o
nly take a moment," I said, sliding the door closed.
Danielle looked at me coyly over the flowers. "These flowers can't be just because you wanted to surprise me." She liked to pretend to be the airhead trophy wife, but I saw a devious streak underneath.
"I think we both know that Walter is persona non grata right now," I told her. "While watching him lose everything in a divorce does give me great pleasure, it does not bring back my company."
She looked at me.
"I was wondering…" I said, leaning forward. Women seemed to like me, and I could usually convince them to bend a few rules in my favor.
"What do you need?" Her voice was a little husky. I knew my half brother, Greg, didn't want me dealing with Danielle, but I wasn't going to let Walter get away with what he'd done.
"Just a little information," I said carefully, "about some pharmaceutical companies and potential interests Holbrook Enterprises is exploring."
"Because of Svensson PharmaTech," Danielle said.
"Yes. We want to purchase another chemical company. I believe Holbrook Enterprises is going after that market sector. I know Walter has a list. I need the information."
