Flowers on Main

by Sherryl Woods

  “It looks good in here,” he said eventually, after tearing his gaze away from her to survey the shop. “Your dad did a great job.”

  “He did,” she agreed. “I’m thinking of having a plaque installed in his honor. It’ll give me bragging rights to have an interior designed and executed personally by a famed architect.”

  “Not a bad publicity ploy,” he said as if she’d been serious. “I’ll bet the Internet has a listing of everything he’s ever touched. Followers of that kind of stuff travel all over to see designs by the great names in that field.”

  She grinned at him. “I was actually joking,” she said. “I’m not interested in having my shop be nothing more than a tourist destination, and I think Dad’s happy enough with the town on his résumé. The inside of my flower shop wouldn’t add much.” She waved her order form at him. “I’ve been working on this and I’ve made a lot of notes, but you were right. I really could use your advice.”

  He nodded, grabbed the chair opposite her desk, dragged it around and squeezed in next to her. The action put them thigh to thigh in the tight quarters. Jake gave her an impudent grin that practically dared her to complain. When she bit back a comment, he nodded, evidently pretty pleased with himself.

  “Let’s see what you have here.” Before looking at the form, he glanced at the sketches scattered over the top of the desk. His eyes lit up with surprise. “I’m in and out of a lot of shops in the area, so I know what’s being sold. These are good, Bree. Really good.”

  She met his gaze, pleased by the praise. “You really think so?”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. We’re way past the point of uttering little white lies to be polite.”

  “Yes, I suppose we are,” she said, though she couldn’t honestly say where that left them. Most of the time she felt as if they were complete strangers.

  Not now, though, not with his leg touching hers, his heat radiating right through her, reminding her what it felt like to be surrounded by all that raw, passionate masculinity. Now it was all she could do to catch her breath and maintain some sort of facade of calm.

  “Bree?”

  “Yes, what?” she said, aware that she’d missed something.

  Jake regarded her quizzically. “Everything okay?”

  “My mind wandered, that’s all.”

  He gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, I have that problem myself sometimes.”

  “What were you asking?”

  He gestured toward the order form. “I jotted down a few things on here. See what you think.”

  She barely skimmed his notes, then nodded. She really needed to get him out of here before she made a complete fool of herself and threw herself at him. “Looks perfect,” she said.

  “Okay then. We’ll go with this. And when everything arrives here next week, if you decide you need anything else, I’ll work with you to make sure you have it.”

  “I thought you didn’t intend to set foot near this place,” she said, raising the subject that she’d tried to bring up on the phone earlier. “I figured today was some kind of rare exception.”

  He shrugged. “The way I recall it, you dared me to come around and keep my hands to myself.”

  She swore under her breath. She’d forgotten that. “Sure. Right. And the kiss the other day? What was that?”

  “It didn’t happen on these premises,” he said. “Just one of those in-the-moment impulses.”

  She had to fight the urge to chuckle at the way he was spinning the rules to suit himself. She nodded sagely. “That makes perfect sense, I’m sure. At least to you.”

  He stood up abruptly. “Lunchtime. I need to get to Sally’s.”

  Disappointed by the sudden absence of heat and contact, she merely nodded. “Of course.”

  He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, as if he was debating with himself. Finally he muttered something that sounded like, “What the hell,” then bent down and brushed his lips across hers. When he stood up, he was grinning.

  “No hands,” he said with a wink.

  And then, while she was still openmouthed with astonishment, he left, tucking the order form into the back pocket of his faded, butt-hugging jeans as he went. Naturally the gesture kept her eyes glued to his backside as he walked away. She picked up one of her sketches and fanned herself, but the breeze that it generated was no match for the fire raging through her veins.

  Outside Bree’s shop, Jake nearly knocked Mack over in his rush to escape.

  “Well, well, well,” Mack murmured, his eyes lighting with amusement. “Look who just got caught fraternizing with the enemy.”

  “I wasn’t fraternizing with anyone,” Jake claimed, hoping to hell there was none of Bree’s lipstick on his mouth to contradict the claim. “And Bree’s not the enemy. She’s a client. I was picking up an order.” He pulled the paper out of his back pocket and waved it under Mack’s nose. “See? Proof.”

  “Interesting that you feel the need to prove anything to me,” Mack said. “What’s that Shakespeare quote about protesting too much?”

  Ignoring the comment, Jake pushed past Mack and went into Sally’s. “Let’s order,” he said as soon as he was seated in their regular booth. “I’m starved.”

  Mack’s amusement only seemed to deepen. “Yeah, a close encounter of the feminine kind usually stirs up my appetite, too.”

  Jake seized the opening. “How is Susie these days?”

  Mack frowned. “Would you stop asking about Susie, please? We’re not dating. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Until you can make me believe it,” Jake responded cheerfully. He paused as if giving the matter great consideration, then shook his head. “Nope. So far, not quite believing it.”

  Will slid into the booth. “Are we talking about Mack and Susie? I spotted them walking along Shore Road the other night at midnight.”

  Mack flushed brick red. “Her car broke down. She called me for a ride.”

  Will blinked at the response. “So you were what? Walking her home after she’d asked for a ride?”

  Mack sighed heavily. “I was downtown. I didn’t have my car, so yes, I walked over to where her car was stalled out. I tried to get it started. When nothing worked, I walked her home. What was I supposed to do, leave her stranded or let her walk alone at that hour?”

  Jake nodded with exaggerated understanding. “You behaved like a perfect Southern gentleman,” he concurred. “I am curious about one thing, though. Why would Susie call you instead of, oh, maybe anyone in her very large family?”

  Mack looked up with relief when Sally appeared at their table, order pad in hand and her expression harried.

  “Okay, guys, what’s it going to be today?”

  “Cheeseburger, fries and a soda,” Jake said, eager to get back to teasing Mack.

  “Same for me,” Will said.

  Mack, however, studied the menu with the deliberation of someone who’d never seen it before. “I’ll have…” His voice trailed off.

  Will grinned. “Don’t keep us in suspense, man. What are you ordering?”

  “I’d like to know that, too,” Sally said, regarding him with impatience. “The place is mobbed, in case you haven’t noticed. If you expect to eat before one o’clock, I need to get the order in.”

  “Burger, fries and iced tea,” Mack said with obvious reluctance. Then he scowled at Jake and Will. “With a side of peace and quiet.”

  “You’ll need to go elsewhere for that,” Jake told him.

  Mack gave him a knowing look. “I know why you’re harassing me. You don’t want me telling Will where you were right before lunch.”

  “Where?” Will asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

  “The flower shop,” Mack confided in an exaggerated whisper.

  “Oh, boy,” Will said, his fascinated gaze now on Jake. “What was that about?”

  Jake gave both of them a sour look and stood up. “Hey, Sally, make my order to go. I suddenly remembered I
have somewhere I need to be.”

  Both men laughed.

  “Where?” Mack asked.

  “Pretty much anyplace but here,” he told them, then headed for the counter, where Sally managed to produce his take-out order in record time.

  “Thin skin,” Mack commented loudly enough for him to overhear.

  “Pot calling the kettle black,” Will retorted. “Now, let’s get back to you and Susie.”

  Mack’s groan followed Jake all the way out onto Main Street.

  Every outfit from Megan’s closet was scattered across her bed. She stared at the mess and shook her head. She’d packed for overseas travel with less anxiety. For some reason the upcoming four-day trip back to Chesapeake Shores had her in a complete tizzy.

  Okay, she knew the reason: Mick. Like some teenager facing a first date with the guy of her dreams, she wanted to impress him. No, she wanted to knock his socks off, make him rue the day he’d ever let her get away.

  Of course, the last time she’d been down there, when he’d openly admitted his intention to win her back, it had scared her to death. And now she wanted what? To have him whip out an engagement ring because he was breathless at the sight of her? She’d probably pass out on the spot.

  When her phone rang, she seized it, eager for anything that would distract her from this utter insanity.

  “Hey, Meggie,” Mick said, his low voice sending heat spiraling right through her.

  She swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t the best distraction, after all. She was having a hard time thinking straight.

  “Meggie?”

  “Hi. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” she said with forced cheer. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s great down here. Bree’s right on track for her big opening. I don’t know if what she’s doing is the right decision for her in the long term, but she has a sparkle in her eyes these days. I can’t argue with anything that could put that there.”

  “I agree. She sounded really excited when I spoke to her yesterday. This may not be the best solution for her future, but clearly it’s what she needs right now.”

  “When are you getting here?”

  She glanced at the piles of scattered clothes and wondered if she’d ever make any headway with packing. “I’m taking an early shuttle on Thursday morning.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up at the airport,” he suggested. “There’s no reason for you to waste money on a rental car when I have extra cars just sitting in the garage.”

  “You’d let me drive one of your classic cars?” she asked, stunned.

  He laughed. “Not a chance. You can drive my car. I’ll drive the Mustang convertible. It’ll make me feel like a kid again. If you play your cards right, I’ll take you for a spin in it, but that’s as close as you’ll get to being behind the wheel.”

  “I have driven it, you know,” she said, deliberately taunting him. She knew how he felt about those precious cars of his.

  “When?” he asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

  “Every time you made me furious by leaving town.”

  “Megan O’Brien, you drove my classic cars?” he blustered. “Do you have any idea what these things are worth? How much the insurance is?”

  “I believe you mentioned it a time or two.” More like a hundred, especially when Connor or Kevin pleaded for permission to drive one of them. She doubted he knew about their excursions in the cars and she wasn’t about to fill him in at this late date.

  “So you did it just to spite me?” Mick asked now.

  “Something like that.”

  He fell silent. “I suppose I should thank my lucky stars you never crashed one.”

  “Yes, you probably should, given my mood when I was behind the wheel. You have no idea how tempted I was to at least put the Mustang back in the garage with a couple of good-size dings in the fender.”

  “Do you have any other diabolical tendencies I missed while we were married?”

  She chuckled at his suddenly wary tone. “Perhaps one or two, but I think I’ll keep you guessing about what they might be. Still want to pick me up at the airport?”

  “Of course I do. Seems like I’m going to need to keep a real close eye on you. Then, again, I was planning to do that anyway.”

  The edge she’d felt she had vanished in the blink of an eye. When the man said something like that, how was she supposed to resist?

  “Meggie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m looking forward to this weekend.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You gonna be my date for the party?”

  “I assumed the whole family would be going together,” she said, hedging.

  “Probably will,” he agreed. “But I want it clear that you’ll be there with me, even if you and I are the only ones who know that.”

  “You could always resort to a branding iron,” she commented dryly.

  “I’m not claiming you as my property,” he chided. “I’m asking you to be my date, a partner, the way we used to be.”

  “Oh, Mick,” she whispered, her voice filled with nostalgia and regret. “We stopped being partners a long time ago, way before the marriage ended. You made decisions unilaterally that affected all of us. When I questioned anything, you told me everything you were doing was for the good of the family. If I disagreed, you told me I didn’t have any faith in you.”

  Mick sighed. “I can’t deny any of that, but I do remember how good it was when we were a team,” he said. “I want that back, Meggie. I miss it.”

  “I’m not sure it’s possible to recapture the past.”

  “Then we’ll make ourselves a new set of rules, put our relationship on a whole new footing. What do you think?”

  “I think that optimistic streak of yours is in overdrive,” she responded.

  “You used to think that was a good thing,” he reminded her.

  “It was,” she said. “It is. I want to feel what you feel, Mick. I really do. I’m just not there yet. Losing you, long before the divorce, that took a toll.”

  “Then we’ll take all the time you need,” he said, giving in, but clearly not giving up. “See you on Thursday. You tell that pilot to fly safe or he’ll have to answer to me.”

  She laughed at that. “He’ll have to answer to me first.”

  “Bye, Meggie.”

  “Good night, Mick.”

  Long after he’d hung up, she sat clutching the phone and wondering how she was going to resist all that charm of his. She hadn’t been able to do it over thirty years ago. It was unlikely her resistance had improved with age.

  Mick walked onto the porch after his conversation with Megan and found his mother already out there, rocking the way she did when she was worried. He sat down next to her.

  “What’s on your mind, Ma?”

  “Megan,” she said, slowing the rocker long enough to direct a hard look his way. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Mick?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Tell me what happens once you’ve won her back.”

  “First of all, winning her back isn’t a sure thing,” he began.

  She waved off the comment. “Don’t put on a show of modesty for my benefit. We both know you usually get whatever you set your mind to. Failure’s never been an option for you. Do you recall how many people told you this town couldn’t be built the way you envisioned it? You never once lost faith in your vision.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said, “but Megan’s changed. She’s not the sweet, docile woman I married.”

  “She never was sweet or docile,” Nell corrected. “She just loved you so much that she tried to do things your way. For a time that worked because you adored her and tried to meet her halfway. There was balance in the relationship.”

  “And then I let work consume me,” Mick said. “I’ve heard it before, Ma, and I can hardly deny it.” It was the second time in less than a half hour that he’d had to admit as much. He dire
cted a look her way. “I know none of you believe me when I say I’m changing, but think about this. How much time have I been spending at home recently?”

  “More than usual,” she conceded.

  “I walked away from one job,” he told her. “Two more offers came my way just this past week and I turned both of those down. There are half a dozen projects in various stages of construction right now all over the country and I’ve assigned people to oversee each of those. That doesn’t mean I won’t fly in to take an important meeting or have a look around. After all, my name’s associated with these developments, but I’m pulling back from the day-to-day operation of the company.”

  “How long is that going to last?” Nell asked, her skepticism plain. “One crisis and you could be gone for weeks. I’m not saying that’s unreasonable, but it will pretty much shatter the illusion that you’ve changed.”

  “Megan and I were married long enough that she can understand the difference between a crisis and a lifestyle,” he claimed, though he was sure of no such thing. Crises had a way of coming up back to back. The next thing he knew, the new pattern could look pretty much the same as the old. He could tell from Nell’s dubious expression that she knew that as well as he did.

  Mick knew there was only one surefire solution. He’d have to retire, turn the company over to the men he’d hired and trained, then trust them to manage it as he would have. Retirement might have been easier if any of his children had been interested in the business, but they weren’t. To his regret, they’d all made that plain. Kevin and Connor, the most likely choices, could barely tell a hammer from a saw. As for putting anyone else in charge, he just didn’t know if he was ready to do that or even capable of keeping his nose out of the business he’d started.

  “I’m too young to retire,” he said glumly. “I’d go completely stir-crazy.”

  Nell’s lips twitched. “More than likely,” she agreed. “You’re a man with a lot of energy and drive.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “It’s not up to me,” she said, suddenly all innocence.

  “But you have an opinion, I’m sure.” To his knowledge, she’d never been without one, not on any topic related to their family, anyway.