by Angie Pepper
“You didn’t have to do that,” Tina said softly.
“I know,” Rory said. “Don’t make fun of me for being a weirdo.”
“I’m not.”
They drove for a while in silence. The sun was gone. The sky was cool blue, and getting darker.
After a while, Tina said, “Thank you for this weekend, Rory. You know I love you, right?”
Rory sniffed. The crying had stopped, but it hadn’t gone far.
“Tina, I feel bad,” Rory said. “I think I’m part of the problem. I’m holding you back.”
“Don’t be silly. What are you talking about? You’re holding me back from what?”
“You should have a boyfriend,” Rory said. “You’re pretty, and smart, and funny. And you don’t have some major psychological issue that prevents you from kissing or holding hands. We’re almost thirty. Thirty! All our other friends are getting married, having kids. The only reason you’re still single is me.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s the only reason.”
Rory turned and climbed over the seats to get the tissue box from the back window. She returned and blew her nose.
They rolled down the highway in silence. The inside of the car felt cozy compared to the midnight blue around them. Driving was good for talking.
“I need to let you go,” Rory said.
Tina laughed nervously. “Rory, are you breaking up with me?”
“We should take some time apart.”
“What?” Tina didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d been single for a year, and she was still getting dumped? Life wasn’t fair.
Rory sniffed again. “Or you could promise me you’ll go on some dates,” she said. “Maybe once a week. Then I’ll know I’m not holding you back.”
Tina stared at the dotted yellow line on the highway, thinking over what had been said.
“It’s the only way,” Rory said.
Tina said nothing.
One of Rory’s favorite songs came on the radio.
Tina waited for what she knew would happen next, and it did.
“I love this song,” Rory said, turning up the volume.
It was a woman singing a cover of Fields of Gold, by Sting. The lyrics were about someone asking to be remembered when they were gone.
The song always reminded Tina of her first love. The boy who gave her blue roses, then died two months after graduation. But that was because every sad song reminded her of him, and some of the happy ones, too.
Whatever was holding her back, she didn’t believe it was Rory.
Chapter 5
It was Monday morning, and two weeks had passed since Tina’s weekend getaway at the resort with Rory. Two weeks since her massage. She’d been thinking about Big Danny, and his socks and sandals, and his big, magic hands.
Tina was walking down Baker Street on her way to open the flower shop when a sign in a window caught her eye:
Massage Therapist On Duty Monday-Friday
There was a massage therapist working at the local chiropractor’s office. But of course there was. There probably always had been, and she hadn’t noticed before. That meant she didn’t need to drive out to the ritzy hot springs to get a massage.
Tina lingered at the window, trying to get a peek inside. She wondered if the massage therapist was a guy or a girl.
There was a brochure-holder box near the front door, full of brochures and business cards. A bunch of the shops around the area set out material like this, for the people who came by the restaurants in the evening.
Tina was reaching for a card when she heard a deep male voice.
“What on earth are you doing?”
She jerked back her hand guiltily and turned to see Luca Lowell. He was wearing his usual biker boots, jeans, and a plain gray shirt that was straining to contain all of his strength. There was something different about his appearance. Had he gotten more handsome? How was it possible? His hair had grown longer in the last two and a half weeks since they’d met. He was letting more of his waves show, and it suited him. He was also clean-shaven, with kissable smooth cheeks.
One thing hadn’t changed. Those bright-blue eyes of his were once again taking Tina’s breath away.
If only there had been one thing imperfect about the man, then it might have been easier for her to keep her cool. Why did he have to wear biker boots? Socks with sandals were very comfortable.
Luca tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes at the chiropractor’s brochure-holder. He asked, “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”
“I’m not doing anything,” she said, defensiveness making her voice rise. “I’m just minding my own business, walking to work.”
He straightened his head and gave her a chiding look. “And you don’t seem to be in any hurry.”
“I’m not in any hurry. Why? Should I be?”
“You’ve had a customer waiting at your shop for the last ten minutes, waiting for you to open.”
She looked down the street at the storefront. Nobody was in front of the flower shop. “That’s too bad,” she said. “But don’t worry. They’ll come back.”
“They might not,” he said, a hint of a grin forming on his lips. “They might take down the five-star review they wrote for your business and put up a bad one.”
She finally picked up on what he was getting at. “Was it you?”
“It was me.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “It is now twelve minutes past the opening time posted on your door.”
“Those aren’t the actual hours,” she said. “They’re more like guidelines. That’s why there’s a little star-shaped symbol next to all the times. The hours are flexible.”
He gave her a sideways look. “Is that any way to run a business?”
“Sure. It might not be the perfect way to run a business, but it’s a way.”
“You’re good with words,” he said. “I bet you play a mean game of Scrabble.”
“I can hold my own.”
He tilted his head again, and the brown waves of his hair caught the light perfectly. “Are we going to stand in front of the chiropractor’s office all day, or are you going to sell me some of your pretty flowers?”
She plucked a card for massages from the display then started walking. “Right this way, sir. Mr. Customer, sir.”
He walked beside her to the end of the block. They waited without talking for the light to change before crossing the street. It was a gorgeous day. The morning sun hit the planes of Luca’s face, turning it into a masterpiece to match his hair. He was what Tina and Megan’s mother would call a Golden Boy. When Tina was growing up, she thought her mother said that to compare people to golden retrievers, but, as of that morning, she understood it. When the sunshine hit him, Luca was radiant. He was a Golden Boy.
As they crossed the street, he asked, “What have you been up to, Flower Shop Girl?”
“You don’t remember my name.”
“Sure I do. I just didn’t want to wear it out too soon.” He paused. “Tina.”
A shiver went down her spine.
He pointed to the card in her hands. “Are you in the market for a massage?”
“That depends. Are you offering?”
“Er.” He loosely smacked one big hand against his cheek. “C’mon, Luca,” he told himself. “That’s what you get for asking stupid questions.”
“It wasn’t that stupid,” she said.
He smiled.
They reached the door to the flower shop. She pulled out her keys and, by some miracle, managed to get the door open without dropping them.
Luca followed her into the cool interior.
“Chilly,” he said. “Brr.”
She laughed.
“What?” He gave her a puzzled look. “Is the heater broken?”
“It’s just funny to hear a big, tough guy like you say the word chilly, and then brr.”
“Big, tough guys have feelings, too,” he said. “Big, tough guys can get chilly.�
��
They walked past the ferns, which had been pushed back to widen the aisle since Luca’s last visit, but still tickled Tina’s bare arms. She was wearing a flower-print sundress and gladiator-style sandals. It was a major upgrade from the grubby duds she’d been wearing the first time they’d met.
Luca said, “I’ll have to watch what I say around you. I’ll stick to big-tough-guy words, like bullets, and barbed wire, and battleships.”
She flicked on the lights and pivoted to face him.
“Bullets, barbed wire, and battleships? You could put those three things together and make a great tattoo.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s a good idea, but I don’t believe in tattoos.”
“What are you talking about?” She reached out and squeezed his forearm, which she could have sworn had tattoos, but didn’t. “How can a guy like you not believe in tattoos?”
He looked down at her hand on his arm.
“That’s funny,” she said. “I could have sworn you had tattoos.”
His eyes flicked up from her hand to her face. “I’ve got nothing against other people’s choices, but I prefer my skin exactly how it is,” he said evenly.
She gave his forearm a light squeeze before pulling her hand away.
“You do have nice skin,” she said. “I guess some people don’t need anything else. Some people are already perfect, exactly how they are.”
He walked over to the sliding doors that ran across the walk-in cooler. “I’m not perfect,” he said, his back to her. “Far from it. Which is why I’m here today. I need more of those apology flowers.”
“Already? It’s only been a couple weeks since your last one.”
“Different woman.”
She swallowed hard. The only thing worse than learning Luca had a girlfriend was learning that he had two.
She pulled down some vases from the upper shelves behind the counter and set them out. Then she grabbed some of the freshest-looking blossoms from the last auction and started trying color combinations.
Luca watched quietly, not offering more information.
“You’re a busy guy, dating two women at once,” she said.
“You think I’m dating two women? Is that what you wanted to know about when you followed me on social media?”
So he had logged in, and he had noticed. Tina had been hoping he’d been too busy with his renovation to take much notice.
“My friend Rory did that,” she said, as casually as she could manage. “She was messing around on my computer. It was an accident. She was going to unfollow you right away, but that’s so rude.”
“Is it? I don’t really do social media or any of that kid stuff.”
“Good. Then you didn’t see my profile, with all my embarrassing photos.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He paused, savoring the moment. “I was expecting more pictures of your bouquets, but all you post are pictures of a cat.”
“That’s not just any cat. That’s Muffins. He’s a great cat. Possibly the best cat.”
“What’s Muffins like?”
“For one thing, he does not like taking a bath. He does love tuna. His favorite activities are sleeping in sunbeams and hiding twist-ties in people’s shoes.”
Luca leaned over to take a close look at the peach-colored roses between them. “To answer your earlier implication, no. I would never date two women at once. Even just dating one takes up so much time.” He pointed to the cobalt-blue vase. “This one will do.”
Tina grabbed a knife and whittled away at a green insert so it would fit in the vase. What had he meant about one woman taking up so much time? She didn’t like Luca saying things like that. She wanted to live in a world where guys like Luca were committed and loving, even if it wasn’t with her. She had to say something.
“Luca, the thing is…” She changed her mind and trailed off. What was the point?
“The thing is what? Dating advice?” He stretched out his arms. “Hit me. I’m genuinely interested. You do a great job running a business, showing up at whatever-o’clock. I can’t wait to hear more of your wisdom.”
She worried she’d offended him, but then she saw the twinkle in his eyes. He was giving her a hard time. Which was great. She’d rather get a hard time from Luca Lowell than any other sort of a time from anyone else.
“Don’t hold back now,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone in the neighborhood that you’re giving counseling over here without a license. You and I have florist-client confidentiality.”
“Counseling is more my sister’s thing.” She nodded at the office door. Again, it would have made more sense if Teenie had actually been there.
She stabbed the green insert a few more times then dropped it in the vase.
“Spit it out,” he said.
“Well... if you really care about someone, they’re not taking up your time. Sitting in traffic takes up your time. Waiting in line at the bank to get change takes up your time. But being around someone you care about is a gift. If there’s ever a time they’re not around anymore, you’ll wish you’d had more time to give them.”
His eyebrows bunched together. He stared steadily into her with those sky-blue eyes.
“Or something like that,” she said with a throw-away shrug.
“How did you get to be so wise, Flower Shop Girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“Okay.” She felt the cold-fingered touch of the sorrow inside her that never went away. If he had to know, she’d tell him. “There was a time I knew someone who didn’t have much time, and he chose to spend all of it with the people he loved.”
Luca took a step back, pushed his hands into his jean pockets, and looked down at his boots. “All right, then,” he said. “I have been told.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” she said. “I’m the worst. You came here for flowers, and I kept you waiting, then I gave you a lecture. I truly am the worst business person on the whole street. You should probably keep your distance from me before everyone else finds out about us.”
He squinted. “Finds out about us?”
“Being friends,” she said. “Online.”
“Online,” he said, nodding. “Friends.”
The door chimed, and one of Gardenia Flowers’ regular customers came in.
Now that they had an audience, Tina put on her professional florist face. “When do you need the arrangement ready by, Mr. Lowell?”
Luca glanced over his shoulder then back at her, grinning. “Mr. Lowell? For a minute, I thought my dad had just walked in.”
“Just trying to salvage what’s left of our florist-client relationship,” she said. “When do you need the flowers?”
“How about closing time again? You’re here until six?”
She wouldn’t be there, but forgot to say so in the moment. “I’ll have your order ready before then, Mr. Lowell. Would you like anything written on a card?”
He tossed his chin upward defiantly. “I would like... the usual.”
He turned and walked out.
The other customer was still looking around, so Tina pulled out a note card and wrote the usual: SORRY I’M A JERK. - LUCA
She creased the card and tucked it into an envelope.
She wondered what he’d done this time.
Chapter 6
Wednesday morning, Tina Gardenia hustled to get all the flower orders done quickly so she could take her break.
On her way in that morning, she’d bought a bag of chewy candies and two trashy gossip magazines that she intended to read from cover to cover. It was what passed for excitement in Tina’s life.
Once her customers were all taken care of, she let out a sigh of satisfaction and pulled the stool up to the counter.
She settled in and flipped open the magazine cover.
She hadn’t started reading yet when the front door chimed.
Luca Lowell came in, looking unhappy. Handsome, as a
lways, but unhappy. The Golden Boy was the Cloudy Boy, or the Cloudy Man.
“I have a complaint to lodge,” he said.
“Oh? Your lady friend didn’t like the arrangement I made you on Monday?”
“She loved it.” He kept frowning. This was a new side of him, and she didn’t like it. She felt guilty. Had she messed up the bouquet? It had been even more spectacular than the first one. Way over budget, and she had barely charged him anything. The flower shop was going to lose money that month if she kept trying so hard to impress Luca’s girlfriends, but she couldn’t help herself.
“And?” Tina waved to the magazine that lay on the counter between them. “As you can see, this article about trouble with the Royal Family isn’t going to read itself.” She leaned forward and whispered, “The Royals are just like regular folks. They do not get along, and the younger ones have all sorts of ideas about how things should be done differently. They’re always trying to change things that have been perfectly good for generations.”
Luca blinked at her and ignored everything about the Royal family. “My complaint is that my preferred florist wasn’t here on Monday at closing.”
“That’s normal. My sister and I share all the shifts here. She took over after lunch that day. Did she do something wrong? Say something awful? She was probably just making a joke. Some people don’t get her humor.” Tina winced. “Not some people, but most people. Her sense of humor can be hard to receive. Her name is Megan, but everyone calls her Meenie for a reason.”
“Your sister was perfectly nice, and professional.”
“Really? Are you sure you were here, and not some other flower shop?”
“She wasn't perfect, but she wasn’t too bad,” he said. “But my complaint is that she’s not you.”
“We do share a lot of genetic material. We are sisters. Therefore, she’s far more like me than any of the other people on this planet. Compared to those other people, she’s practically the same as me. So, what’s your complaint?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t have a time machine,” she said. “And I’m not going to start working eighty hours a week just so I can be here at all times.”
He stared at her steadily. “If she’s such a good substitution for you, then I should ask your sister to go out on a date.”
