by Tara Sheets
Juliette felt as if he were poking at her. She didn’t have to take this. The sooner he left, the sooner she could quit this messed-up stroll down memory lane and get back to work.
“Any particular plant you need?” she prodded.
He flicked a glance at the ivy spilling over the top shelf. “I’m not really into plants.”
“Not surprised.”
He turned to look at her. “Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure you could handle them.” The Logan she remembered could never sit still. He was always flying from one activity to another like a cyclone, leaving everyone in the dust if they couldn’t keep up. “It takes effort and patience to keep them green.”
“I have a plant,” he said. “It’s green.”
Juliette threw him a dubious look. “Cactus?” Those things could survive almost anything. Even cyclones.
“Plastic.” He looked almost smug. “The best kind, if you ask me.”
Oh, the end. Juliette grit her teeth. She set her cup down, sloshing her mocha on the counter. “If you’re not here for plants, what do you want?”
He gestured to the black truck parked on the street. “Lumber delivery. I need to know where to make the drop this evening.”
Everything suddenly clicked into place. Her boss had mentioned a supply delivery for the new deck and greenhouse they were building for the remodel. It suited Logan to work at the lumberyard. It would give him a chance to put those stupid GI Joe muscles to good use.
Juliette pointed to the fence near the front walkway. “You can just leave it out there.”
“I think it’s better if I take it around to the back.”
She pointed to the fence again. “Right there is fine.”
Logan frowned. “Are you the only one here? I should talk to—”
“—I’m the manager,” she said testily. “I’m in charge of this place.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Yup.” She threw her arms wide. “Just little old me. The manager. And I’m telling you to leave it out front near the fence.”
Logan seemed about to say something, then decided against it.
She crossed her arms and stared into his dark eyes.
Neither of them spoke for several long moments.
Neither of them blinked.
It was a silent battle of wills. She wasn’t going to look away, either. She could stand there all day, if she had to. Even though her delicious, hazelnut mocha was sitting right in front of her, growing cold. Even though the extra vanilla whipped cream was probably already melted by now.
She licked her lips.
He blinked. His gaze flicked to her mouth.
Score.
When he turned to leave, she felt a surge of triumph. She was in charge. She was The Decider. So what if he crushed her silly hopes when she was young and vulnerable? He probably didn’t even remember. And none of that mattered now. She was twenty-seven. All grown up, and nothing he said or did could get under her skin.
At the door, he paused and glanced back. “There is one plant I can handle just fine.” A spark of mischief lit his eyes, but his expression was all politeness.
Juliette didn’t trust it. “What would that be?”
“Petunias.” He shot her a crocodile grin. “I’m really good at handling petunias.”
Chapter Two
After Logan left, Juliette threw herself into creating floral arrangements and helping customers. By noon, she’d already forgotten his visit. At least five or six times. Yup, everything had slipped back into business as usual. In fact, on a scale of one to ten, she’d give the day a solid seven. If it weren’t for accidentally running a drug cartel, it might have even been an eight.
She peered through the ferns lining the florist shop window and lifted a small marijuana plant from its hiding place. It was gorgeous and healthy, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? She’d unknowingly been watering it with her magic growth potion for the past week.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered.
The seedling didn’t explain itself, but it didn’t have to. Her new employee did.
Juliette marched to the back room, hating this part of her job. All her life, she just wanted to be around plants, and aside from her cottage by the woods, Romeo’s Florist Shop was her favorite place on earth. Plants were her “family.” She loved them and cared for them, and they grew roots and stuck around. People, on the other hand, weren’t as dependable.
“Kevin,” Juliette said. “We need to talk.”
A lanky teenage boy with swoopy hair leaned against the back door, tapping on his cell phone. In rumpled pants and the same AC/DC shirt he’d worn three days in a row, he looked like he just rolled out of a mosh pit. “What’s up, boss?”
“You don’t have to call me boss. I told you, Juliette’s fine.”
He didn’t glance up from his phone. “My mom said I have to be respectful or you’ll cast a spell on me.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “I don’t cast spells on people.” Why did she bother? People would believe what they wanted. Holloway magic was subtle, and only used to help others. It didn’t even work directly on herself. Most of the locals laughed it off as silly superstition, but some—like Kevin’s mom, apparently—didn’t want to take any chances.
“What about those potions?” he asked, still tapping away. Screenagers. Never let it be said they lacked focus.
“Those are essential oil blends,” Juliette said in exasperation. “Made from things in my garden. To help people. I don’t make anything dangerous.”
“You make bath grenades,” he said through a yawn.
“Bombs, Kevin,” she sighed. “Bath bombs. For relaxation.”
“I dunno, boss. Bombs aren’t super chill.”
Juliette shook her head. Poor Kevin. He wasn’t the brightest flower on the vine. If she was ever going to convince Romeo, the owner, to sell her the shop when he retired, she had to prove she could manage it like an expert. That meant finding a trustworthy employee to help out, especially with the remodel coming up. But Kevin wasn’t that person.
“Owned.” He did a fist pump and glanced up, grinning. “I just beat my highest score on Junk Punk.”
Juliette breathed deep, because patience was a virtue. At least that’s what people said. She wouldn’t know firsthand, but she was willing to give it a shot. Kevin was an okay kid, but she wasn’t interested in babysitting. Most of the time, he showed up to work stoned. Just yesterday she caught him watering the orchids with a pitcher of lemonade.
She held the marijuana plant in the air, waving it to get his attention. “I found this hidden under the ferns.”
Kevin’s smile took an instant nosedive. “Aw, balls.”
“You told me this wouldn’t happen again,” Juliette said, setting the plant on the cutting table. “You promised me.”
“I know, but you can make anything grow. Can’t you make an exception? No one has to know.” The whine was teenaged to perfection with just the right notes of hope and cluelessness. “My friend has a buyer lined up for the rest of the summer. He says we’ll make a killing if you help us. Besides, weed’s legal now in Washington.”
Juliette lifted his hoodie from a peg on the wall and handed it to him. “You can explain that to your mom when she asks why you got fired.”
“Please don’t tell my mom,” Kevin moaned. “Wait—I’m fired?” His shoulders slumped. “Balls.”
“Yeah, good luck with yours.” She held the door open for him. “I’ve seen your mom when she’s angry.”
Kevin pulled on his hoodie, scowling.
Juliette felt a stab of pity for him. He seemed so anchorless. “Wait.” She grabbed one of her hand-wrapped soaps from a basket and held it out. “Take this.”
He was clearly unimpressed with her parting gift. “I have soap at home.”
“This is different. And it smells good, see?” She pressed the pine-and-sandalwood-scented bar into his hand.
He shoo
k his head. “I use Axe body spray. I don’t need—”
“Girls like this way better, trust me. It’ll help you.”
Finally, a flash of interest. “Get chicks?” He sniffed it cautiously.
She pressed her lips together, choosing her words. “I think it could help in a lot of ways. Just try it, okay?”
A few minutes later, Juliette watched him drive away in his mom’s gold minivan. The soap was charmed to help a person gain clarity and make good choices. She hoped he’d use it, but even without the magic, it was a win for Kevin. Because, Axe body spray? Come on.
She closed the back door and thumped her head against it. He was the third person she’d fired in a month. Romeo wasn’t going to be happy, and she really needed him happy. Her plan to buy the florist shop depended on it.
As if on cue, the door opened, and Romeo breezed in on a wave of expensive cologne. “Darling.” He made a beeline for the coffee maker. “Please tell me that wasn’t Kevin I saw driving away when I pulled up.”
Romeo was in his sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed. He wore impeccably tailored clothes, and with his Rhett Butler smile and easy charm, he looked like he just stepped out of an old Hollywood film. Juliette was sure he’d broken many hearts in his day, but now he was happily married to his husband, an airline pilot.
“I had to let Kevin go,” Juliette said.
He took a mug from the cupboard and lifted the ancient coffeepot near the sink. “You can’t keep firing people, hun. I’m going to be gone on my trip for three weeks, and you need the help.”
“Trust me, Kevin wasn’t helping.” She filled him in on her brief stint as an almost–drug lord.
“Well,” Romeo sighed. “You did the right thing.”
“So you see, I’m better off managing the place alone.”
“Look,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee. “I know you like to do everything yourself, and you’re good at it. Really good at it. But one of these days you’re going to have to let someone in. The remodel starts tomorrow. You need the help, which brings me to the reason I stopped by.” He raised the mug and took a sip.
Juliette jerked her hand up. “I wouldn’t—”
He choked. Coughed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I tried to warn you.”
“What fresh hell is this?” he wheezed, staring into the coffee mug. “It tastes like water strained through compost dirt.”
“Well, Kevin made it, so you never know.”
He set the cup firmly in the sink. “I’m going to go get something real. You want a hazelnut mocha?”
She grinned. “Always.” Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods.
“Extra vanilla whipped cream, right?”
Juliette nodded. He was the greatest boss on earth. Possibly the greatest person. She adored him to the moon and—
“I hired my nephew to facilitate the remodel,” Romeo announced.
Juliette stopped grinning. “I’m going to facilitate the remodel.”
“I know, I know. But you’ll be working in the shop. He’s going to do the actual labor.”
She followed him to the front entrance. “Is he qualified to build an entire deck and a greenhouse? I mean, I thought we were hiring contractors.”
“Don’t worry,” Romeo said. “He’s done this kind of work before. And he’ll have some people help out when needed.”
Juliette wished he’d ask her before doing the hiring, or at least let her be part of the process. Romeo didn’t have the best track record when it came to choosing solid employees. If he was hiring his nephew, it was obviously for personal family reasons, and it was never a good idea to mix family with business. Not that she’d know. Aside from her cousin, Juliette was the last remaining Holloway on the island. But it didn’t sound like a good idea. Who knew what his nephew’s actual credentials were?
She crossed her arms in frustration. For all she knew, he was going to be some lazy deadbeat who did sloppy work. Another person she’d have to babysit. “When does he start?”
“Tomorrow,” said a familiar voice behind her.
She whirled around.
Logan O’Connor stood in the doorway. He nodded to Romeo. “Uncle Ro.”
Juliette’s mouth fell open, and she had to force it shut. Uncle freaking Ro? She stared at him in disbelief. He looked like he needed someone to scrape the smirk off his face with a shovel. She happened to have one.
“You’re just in time to join me for coffee,” Romeo said, slapping him on the back. “But first, I want you to meet Juliette, my shop manager.”
“We’ve already met,” Logan said, holding out his hand.
She shook it because she was super managery and professional, and also because there was a shovel in the back room calling to her. But clocking him in the face with it might not seem very welcoming, so shaking hands was probably the better choice.
“Nice to see you again,” she lied.
His grip was firm and strong. “Likewise.”
“Logan’s going to fix things up inside, too,” Romeo said.
“Make it more organized. You’ll have to give him some room to work, okay, hun? Show him where things are?”
She dipped her head, unable to go through with a full nod. For three years, she’d managed the shop. She had a system, and knew how things worked. Maybe it didn’t look organized to others, but it worked for her. Everything was under control. And now she was just supposed to step aside and let his lumbering nephew come in and change everything?
Romeo kept talking about shelves and paint and mirrored paneling, but Juliette stopped listening. It’s not that she didn’t want to fix up the shop; she really did. But it bothered her that Romeo was making all the decisions without asking for her input. She planned on owning the shop someday. These changes happening now were going to be changes she’d have to live with for years to come. It was frustrating not to have any say about what was being done.
And here stood Logan, smirking at her. All she could think about was how he judged her shop—judged her all those years ago—and found them both lacking. All she could hear was, I’m not really into plants. He was the last person she wanted in her personal space, but by some jacked-up twist of fate, she was going to be stuck with him for the next few weeks.
“I’ll do what I can to make it look decent in here,” Logan said. “It shouldn’t be too hard, even though the back room is a train wreck. Practically a fire hazard. I don’t know how anyone can even work back there. But don’t worry, Uncle Ro. I’ll take care of it.” He looked pointedly at her. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“There’s nothing here I can’t handle,” he said with an arrogant shrug.
And that was it. She made up her mind right then and there not to make things easy for him. He may have an uncle who ran the show, and he may have grown up with rich, doting parents and popular friends and family picnics with noodle salad, but she had something better. Something he didn’t have. Something she could always count on.
Juliette’s smile was catlike, her mind racing with possibilities.
She had magic.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Tara Sheets is a lover of fairy tales and a staunch believer in happily ever after. She enjoys writing women’s fiction and lighthearted romance with a splash of magic. Tara holds a BA in Communications and is a graduate of the University of Washington’s Popular Fiction Writing Program. Her debut novel, Don’t Call Me Cupcake, won the 2016 Golden Heart® sponsored by Romance Writers of America. Tara lives in the South with her book-loving family and a book-eating dog named Merlin. Please visit her at www.tarasheets.com or on Twitter @Tara_Sheets.
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