“Well something’s wrong,” Bree muttered and continued to work.
“Really? Would you go along with such an idiotic plan with a man you knew nothing about?”
Bree pointed her finger at Regan and laughed. “I’m not the one who hasn’t had a date in eight months and twelve days! But if I were in your shoes, hell yeah!”
Regan dismissed her with a wave of her hand, “He could be some…I don’t know, serial killer or something!”
Bree rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Yeah, okay, and he concocted a really good story and knew of your customer six months ago, uh huh.”
“It could happen.” Regan smirked. But she knew as the sun would set and rise again tomorrow that Damon was telling the truth.
Bree gasped loudly. “You’re scared! Ah, yes, that’s it! You, my dear, are chickenshit deluxe with a side scaredy-cat on the side!”
Regan couldn’t help but laugh with a snort. “Oh my goodness! How old are you? Eight?”
“Laugh at me if you want, but I’m not playing it safe and hiding in a floral cooler, now am I?” Bree cocked her neck back and forth, being cocky and arrogant, and snapped her fingers in a divalike fashion.
Regan laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Do I know you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know you or, rather, what happened to you. You jumped in and took a big risk with this business and made a major success of it and now? Tsk-tsk.”
“So, you think I should have offered to help and made a complete ass out of myself trying to get a job at a strip club at my age?” Regan raised her brows, questioning.
“What about your age? Dang girl, you’re hot, you work out—nice figure, perky breasts, and a firm behind. You don’t look twenty-nine at all,” Bree noted while walking around Regan like she was a specimen for review.
“Uh, thanks…I think,” Regan replied, throwing a handful of leaves and stems toward the trash can.
“Girl, use or lose it. It’s just that simple!”
“Yeah, whatever. I already told him no, so I probably won’t be seeing him again.” Even though she said it, she hoped it wasn’t true. I’m not sure I could go along with such a ruse, I’d still like to see him again though, and definitely more of him, all of him.
“Well, didn’t he leave him number? A business card?” Bree questioned, taking a drink of her latte.
“No,” Regan said with disappointment evident in her voice.
“Don’t even tell me he didn’t tell you his last name!” Bree waltzed across the cooler to stand in front of Regan. Her hands jutted against her hips.
“No, but it doesn’t matter now.” Regan frowned.
Bree just looked at Regan dumbfounded. “What happened to your sense of adventure?”
“I suppose I lost it somewhere between the black carnations and Count Dracula’s calla lilies!”
“All right then. Bad day, I can totally understand your frustration. I think you can handle what’s left. I will see you in the morning to load up everything for the wedding hall.” Bree tiptoed over and picked up her purse and scooted out the door.
* * * *
Regan lay in bed that night and mulled over the events of the day. She wasn’t someone who chased men. It seemed fairly pathetic to go along with such a ridiculous plan in order to be around a man at all, especially him. However, he did incredible things to her insides with his smile. When he covered her hand with his and rubbed over her wrist with his thumb, her panties became wet. She supposed any nice-looking man would have had the same effect on her, given the situation and her personal situation. Yeah, sure.
She flipped over in her bed and jerked her comforter over her head. Pathetic.
Chapter Two
Regan was up bright and early at her shop loading out flowers into her delivery van. She had someone to fill in for the day in her absence, which alleviated the extra pressure from her schedule. Trip after trip out the back door, her arms were filled with black-and-crimson floral arrangements. A few contained deep purple flowers, which were kind of pretty in a sinister sort of way.
The bride’s bouquet was set inside a large hat box, and Regan just shook her head. She thought it looked like something Morticia from The Addams Family would carry. “Whatever,” she fussed and picked up the box.
Bree poked her head around the corner of the cooler. “Uh, good morning! It is, isn’t it?” she asked, sheepishly grinning.
“Yes, fine, it’s a glorious morning for a goth wedding,” Regan said as she held up a large arrangement filled with dark red roses, nearly black orchids, and black feathers. “All I’m missing are the skulls.” She shook her head and walked out toward the van.
“I brought you your favorite latte,” Bree said in a cutesy voice.
“Thanks, sweetie. I could use the pick-me-up. Double espresso?”
Bree chuckled. “Absolutely!”
Well, at least this was a bright spot in her day, Regan thought as she grabbed the double-espresso caramel latte. The thought of setting up for today’s wedding was a drain on her usual sunny disposition. Combine that with her regret for not taking Damon up on his offer, his idiotic offer, and presto, foul mood. The thought of stripping in a club was not appealing, but if it would allow her some extra time around the extra-hot Damon, she may reconsider.
Stripping? Could she have really done that anyway in an attempt to help him? Nah, more than likely she’d die from stage fright. But on the other hand, it was a noble venture. He was apparently worried about his younger brother, and typically if someone was troubled about something, it generally had some merit.
She sipped her latte thoughtfully as she looked at the contents of her delivery van. Ugh, she thought and went in the back door of her shop to survey what was left.
Bree was busy packing up the odds and ends and a little extra of each variety of flower in case of any mishaps. She was a good friend and also a very good employee who used her brain. Some would call her crazy and reckless and a bit extreme, but Regan appreciated her loyalty and vigor for life. Not to mention the fact that she could cheer her up in seconds on gloomy days, which seemed in abundant supply recently. She supposed it was the dating thing. No date in eight and a half months was bound to make anyone a little unhappy. But really, she had a business to run, and men just didn’t fit into her life with her schedule right now.
“I think I have what’s left and some extra odds and ends,” Bree said in her chipper voice and pranced by.
Regan pulled out her keys and locked the back door. She looked up to the bright blue sky and squinted at the sun. “This is so not the day for a goth wedding,” she murmured and walked to the van.
After the flowers were unloaded, Regan began the task of decorating. The bride wasn’t anywhere around, and she was sure she would have something to say about placement. A woman in a short, black lacy ensemble entered and smiled. Regan had to do a double take when she looked at her outfit. It was wicked looking with black lace, a low-cut front, and fishnet stockings, complete with a small top hat that sat crooked on her head. Her hair was as black as obsidian, which was a stark contrast against her pale ivory skin and the black lipstick that stained her lips.
Regan couldn’t stop staring as the woman walked closer. Her eyes were dark and mysterious with lots of black eyeliner and dark shades of grays and purples on her eyelids. Fanciful artwork scrolled around the edges of her eyes. It was artistic and actually looked pretty amazing.
“You must be the florist Cam was telling me about. I’m Serena, the maid of honor.”
Regan smiled nervously. All the black in the room and on the woman was ominous and foreboding. “Yes, I’m Regan. Did Camellia have any requests or specific plans for the layout?”
Serena smiled, her bright white teeth gleaming against her glossy black lips. “She said to leave it up to you, that you would know exactly what to do, and she wouldn’t be disappointed.”
Regan felt like screaming. This was not the venue for her to be left in control of. Hea
ven help me make it through the day. “Well…all right.”
The maid of honor walked away in her four-inch strappy heels and looked back at Regan once and winked as a devilish smile playing on her lips.
“Wow, making friends already I see.” Bree smiled as she walked up. “So, what’s the plan?”
Regan rolled her eyes. Bree didn’t really want to know.
When they finished up decorating two hours later, Regan sat down and looked around. It was kind of growing on her a little. It was still a wedding destined for a hoard of vampires, but it was really interesting and different in an odd sort of way.
“It looks very cool, Regan. I know you hate the idea of nearly black wedding décor and flowers, but it’s absolutely fabulous. Look at those iron candelabras with crimson roses and black daylilies. “
Regan studied the hall again. It was over the top for sure and beautiful in its own dark way. She looked up and noticed the bride walking her direction. Her smile was beaming as she looked at the results.
The bride’s smile never wavered as she studied the hall. Her elegant ruby-red gown was a strapless A-line style with intricate bead and embroidery work on the bodice. Yards of ruby organza fabric bunched and swirled around deep-ruby satin that flowed to the floor with a three-foot train dragging behind. Her porcelain skin contrasted starkly with the heavy black eyeliner that traced the entire shape of her eyes. Smoky charcoal eye shadow and black lipstick gave her a menacing look. “I knew you were the one for my wedding! This is extraordinary!”
Regan was relieved, very relieved. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I do but…it’s missing something.” A sinful smile played on Camellia’s black lips.
Regan froze. What could be missing? “Did I forget something?”
Camellia grinned. “We’re missing the sacrificial altar, sweetie.”
Regan’s eyes grew wide. “Sacrificial al…altar?” she stuttered.
“Yeah, and the skulls. Where did that box of them go?” Camellia acted like she was looking around for them.
“Skulls?” Regan took shallow breaths as her eyes drew into a questioning look.
“I’m just kidding!” Camellia laughed and patted Regan on the shoulder. “You’re fun to mess with!”
Regan nervously laughed. “Wow, you had me going there for a minute.”
“Listen, sweetie, just because we embrace a darker side doesn’t mean we are satanic cult members. We just embrace a style and life that’s a little different than everyone else’s. Outward appearances can be deceiving.” Camellia’s face smiled sweetly at Regan.
“I...I didn’t,” Regan began.
Camellia laughed. “Don’t apologize. It’s a common misconception, and besides, your face was priceless when I mentioned the altar!”
“I bet it was,” Regan noted.
Camellia’s face turned solemn. “It’s at the reception hall.”
Regan’s smile faded as she looked at the goth bride. “Seriously?”
Camellia laughed. “You’re so gullible.” She cracked up again and picked up the box with her bouquet. “It’s everything I wanted and more. You’re awesome, and this is gorgeous!” She pulled the bouquet out of the box and smiled.
“I’m glad you like it.” Regan held her breath, ready to bolt.
“Well, Regan, thank you again. My dad is at the reception hall, and when you finish up there he will have your check.” Camellia turned and started to walk away and stopped then looked back. “He’ll be the man with fangs and fresh blood on his lips!” She laughed as she exited the room.
Bree bounded up, giddy with excitement. “This is so cool. I mean, look at how fabulous this is! Really, you have to admit this is just so out there, but so beautiful!”
Regan just nodded. It was really wild and unique. She could admit that.
“So was the bride pleased?”
“Yeah, she really likes it,” Regan said as she starting picking up empty boxes.
“Reception hall next and we’re done, girl!” Bree began to tidy up.
“Hey, Bree,” Regan called.
“Yeah?”
“Am I gullible?” Regan stopped what she was doing and looked at Bree seriously.
Bree thought for a moment. “Yes, kind of.”
Regan frowned. She was hoping she wouldn’t say that. “Well, am I naïve?”
Bree smiled. “Don’t start belittling yourself. I was just kidding!”
“I’m not…I just—”
“No, listen to me. You are someone that can accomplish anything if you set your mind to it. Look around at what you created! This is so outside your comfort level, and you pulled it off! The bride is happy, heck, I’m happy! This place looks amazing, and it’s because of you! You seem to meet new challenges head-on without fear. I admire that about you.”
Regan smiled and thanked Bree. It was too much to say, really, but it was nice anyway. She wasn’t sure about the last part of her spill, about meeting challenges head-on. That wasn’t altogether true if one took into consideration Damon asking for her help.
“Let’s finish this up,” Bree said and hugged her around the shoulder.
* * * *
The day had already been long, and it was only three o’clock. Regan finished up a few small orders at her shop, thinking about how crazy the day was, the décor, and what Bree had told her. She began to think about life beyond the walls of her business. She had spent the last five years working late into the night to make it successful and now it was…but what was she? She wasn’t unhappy. In fact, she was happy. She was doing what she loved, had great friends, and what else?
Regan thought and thought over the course of an hour. What was her melancholy mood about? Maybe it was the thought of never seeing Damon again. It was strange to think about him because she didn’t know him, at all. The only thing she knew was how he made her feel those few minutes he was inside her shop. How his flesh on hers felt, how his eyes pierced her soul, and how his seductive mouth and deep voice drove her mad with lust.
That man’s body was built for sexual adventure. His wide shoulders, thick torso and arms, long, thick legs and oh-so-squeezable ass. Not to mention the bulge he concealed, and she was sure that even though they were in Texas, it wasn’t a gun.
The thoughts of him made her body buzz with excitement. If she could just see him one more time, she pondered. Huh, one more time, and she’d likely throw herself at him. She stopped and tried to jot down her floral order for the coming week while his gorgeous face kept appearing and breaking her train of thought. Ah, for the love of it all! I’m never going to get my work done like this!
Regan dropped her pen and stared out the front door. She couldn’t concentrate on work and had what seemed like a million things to accomplish today. Frustration set in as she worked at cleaning and organizing. Finally, she became engrossed in creating a new display for the front window, and the irritation of the last two days seemed to float away effortlessly.
Since it was late spring, she chose brilliant pinks and greens to catch customers’ eyes with. She threw in some extra pizzazz with bright purples. Peace filled her as she wrapped green gladiolas with hot-pink ribbon. Then the phone rang, jarring her out of her meditative state.
“What Women Want Floral Shoppe, how may I help you?” Regan answered in a cheery voice. She listened to the customer and occasionally answered as the customer gave her instructions for what she wanted. “No problem, I can have it done by”—she paused and looked up at the clock—“is four-thirty okay?” She listened and smiled again. “See you then.”
Well, she thought as she hung up the phone, this would be a fun arrangement. The customer was asking about her apparently famous condom bouquet. These were always amusing, especially when they asked for the naughty version. Since it was going to be what sounded like a wild bachelorette party, the naughty version was requested.
Regan walked to the cooler and pulled out a variety of bright flowers in various fun colors. Hot-pink Ge
rbera daisies, purple carnations, yellow tulips, and lime-green asters. With her arm full of flowers, she headed back to her work table and placed them in water. While she thought of how she would arrange the flowers, she pulled down organizer boxes from her shelving and sat them close. Although she had made many of these particular bouquets, she liked them all to be a little different. This one would be great because the customer asked for bright, fun colors.
She began her meticulous arranging of flowers in a bright-pink glazed pot with a rhinestone tiara decoration and on the side that stated “For Naughty Bride to Be!” Inside, she poked in her floral foam and then began adding the flowers. Color sprang up here and there in various shades. When she was happy with the flowers, she opened one of her organizer bins and pulled out clear stakes and poked them in haphazardly. Inside the fork at the tops, she put colorful condoms into them. Each condom package was different. Some were ribbed for her pleasure, while others joked they were ribbed for his pleasure. Some claimed to be flavored, and one said it was “Orgasmic.” There was an interesting condom package that had a cowboy riding a bronco on the front and said it was for “Rough Riders.” What will they think of next?
Regan giggled. She was having fun just reading the condom packages. Ah, I’m goofy, she thought as she put in a glow-in-the-dark condom for extra fun. When all the condoms were placed, she turned the arrangement slowly around and looked it over to ensure uniform placement and to see if she was happy so far. An additional flower was placed here and one there until she was satisfied. Opening another bin, Regan pulled out penis-shaped lollipops. To push it a little over-the–top, she added a light-up cock ring and nipple clips. Last, but not least, she put in penis party blowers. The customer did ask for extremely naughty.
Once she was content, Regan stored the arrangement in the cooler for pickup later. It was fun to make, but messing around with all the condoms and penis shapes did nothing for her overly anxious libido. She had to calm that down and soon. She was definitely not one to run out for a one-night stand as a way to handle this issue. No, she was the person that found any way under the sun to keep her mind off it.
Damon [The Texas Senator's Sons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3
