She readied herself for a renewal of their previous altercations. ‘I don’t want to be stuck at home all day changing nappies with no other life or career and you never here.’
He looked genuinely confused. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt?’
Seriously? ‘I tried, Martin. You wouldn’t listen. All you heard was that I didn’t want kids full stop, and that’s not what I was saying.’
‘Let me clarify.’ He took her by the shoulders. ‘If I change jobs so that I’m around more, and you’re able to continue running Truly Scrumptious, you’ll consider having a baby?’
His face was tantalisingly close. God, she’d missed him. ‘Yes, Martin.’
He let out a cry of delight.
When he reached for her she held him off. ‘But only if we’re back on track as a couple.’
He pulled her closer. ‘Of course.’
She tried to ignore the frisson of heat he’d set off in her blood. ‘And we need to be more romantic and spontaneous.’
He slid his arms around her waist. ‘I hear you.’
His breath was warm against her neck, but she couldn’t succumb, not yet. ‘And we need to talk to each other about what’s frustrating us instead of bottling it up.’
He cupped her bottom, nuzzling her neck, sending her pulse rate soaring. ‘Sounds sensible.’
He backed her against the kitchen table, edging himself between her legs. She didn’t object when her thigh scratched on the chipped corner. ‘And we have to resume having lots of sex. That’s non-negotiable.’ He kissed her. Like he used to kiss her, his whole body pressed against her. The room began spinning. Her nerves jumped to life. She needed to control herself before it was too late and her urges took over. ‘Frequently, in every room.’ Her voice was breathless.
He lifted her up and placed her on the table. ‘Whatever you say.’
The next thing she knew her skirt was above her hips. ‘What are you doing?’ Not that she minded, she was too far gone.
He knelt in front of her, his slow, tantalising smile warming her insides as his hands slid up her thighs. ‘I’m starting with the kitchen.’
She tugged off his tie. ‘I believe you’ve just negotiated yourself a deal.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Wednesday, 25 June
Balancing the phone handset between her shoulder and ear, Evie pushed the newly delivered roll of wire away from the door, trying to gain purchase in her shoes and ignore Marlon, who was tugging on her sleeve wanting to play. ‘Thank you again for calling, Mrs Bitar. I really appreciate your kind words.’ She ended the call, needing to get off the phone before she went arse about face and broke her leg. Being encased in a plaster cast wouldn’t allow her to finish the preparations for Ben and Amy’s wedding, which was taking place in less than forty-eight hours. Time was of the essence.
Reaching across to replace the handset, her foot slipped out of her shoe. She toppled backwards, fell over the roll of wire and landed on her bottom. Enjoying having his mistress at ground level, Marlon climbed onto her lap and sat down. ‘Very helpful.’
There was a time when she might have been annoyed by events conspiring against her, but now she was resigned to her situation. It’d been hard telling Diana she couldn’t buy her out. She’d shed a few tears, but it was done now. Mrs Bitar had seen the advert in the local paper and called to offer condolences. She was still angry with her husband for refusing the loan, especially since Evie had won the Floral Cup. But Evie had assured Mrs B it was okay. And it was, really. Interest following the competition had increased business and Diana had yet to formally serve notice, so for the time being she was content.
‘Come on, Marlon. Up you get. Chores to do.’ She gave him a shove, but he was in one of his ‘make me’ moods. Sighing, she tried to push him off, but he was like a dead weight. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep. She lifted his ear and whispered, ‘Oh, mischievous hound? Can you please get off Mummy’s tummy, so Mummy can get back to work?’ He didn’t budge.
The doorbell tinkled. The sight of Scott entering the shop had Marlon scrambling to his feet. Evie was subjected to a smack in the face from his tail as he tried to reach Scott. Blasted dog.
‘Hey, boy.’ Scott crouched down, partaking in a bout of male rough and tumble on the floor, involving lots of rolling around, barking and slobber.
Evie got to her feet, realising she was lopsided. Her shoe had gone AWOL.
It was handed to her by a grinning Scott. ‘Yours, I believe?’
‘Thanks. I wondered where that had got to.’ She slid the heeled court back on.
Scott looked approvingly at her footwear. ‘Ice cream?’
She nodded. ‘I was tempted by the Raspberry Ripple. I figured these were classier.’
The sound of his laughter did something strange to her insides. It had been a while since she’d heard him laugh like that.
He’d had his hair cut. It made his eyes stand out even more than normal. ‘You look better.’
When he smiled another rush of warmth coursed through her. ‘Thanks. I feel better.’ His playful smirk had returned, which was currently directed towards her new Neapolitan shoes. ‘Where did you find those?’
‘On eBay. I stumbled across them when I was looking for chicken wire.’
‘As you do.’
‘It seemed fortuitous, so I placed a bid. Four pounds forty-nine, these cost me.’
He laughed. ‘Worth every penny.’
The sound of singing filtered through from the kitchen. Saffy was murdering the Evanescence song ‘Bring Me To Life’. Scott raised an eyebrow. ‘Should we be concerned?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Evie glanced at the kitchen door. ‘She’s been singing a lot lately.’
Saffy went for a high note and didn’t quite make it. Scott winced. ‘I’m here to help with the wedding preparations. Apparently you need bottles spraying?’
‘I do. There’s something else I need a hand with first.’ She gestured to the wire roll. ‘This needs cutting into one-metre lengths so I can twist it around the archway at the venue. At the moment there’s nothing for me to attach the hanging pomanders to.’
Scott bent down and felt the width of the wire. ‘I’ll get my cutters from the van.’ He disappeared out of the door, much to Marlon’s dismay.
Evie’s hands went to her hips. ‘He’s coming back, you daft animal.’
Marlon sat by the door, waiting for Scott to return. Her dog had become attached to the trusty plumber. Evie was suffering from the same ailment.
Heading over to the countertop, she lined up the array of different sized jars and bottles ready for spraying. It was an idea she’d stolen from a magazine. Dressing up existing containers not only created unusual table decorations, it kept the cost down, something Ben and Amy were keen to do.
Evie picked up the can of metallic gold paint and gave it a shake. Her attention was drawn to the postcard from Cordelia pinned to the noticeboard. It showed an exotic location filled with palm trees. On the back Cordelia had written, ‘Having a wonderful time with a Swiss surgeon called Andre. Hope you’re doing the same with the handsome Italian film star. Remember – live dangerously, regret nothing.’
Evie smiled, glad her friend was enjoying herself, but sad that things hadn’t worked out with Scott. Timing hadn’t been on their side. He was back with his former love and looking happy and healthy, planning a move back to London. She needed to be grateful, and not keep wishing she’d got her act together sooner and snapped him up herself. Cordelia was going to be so mad with her.
Scott returned with his cutters. Marlon greeted him as though he’d been away hours, not minutes. Daft animal. ‘One metre lengths, right?’
‘It doesn’t have to be exact.’ Ensuring the side was covered with newspaper, Evie began spraying. ‘How are the happy couple?’
Scott unravelled the wire. ‘Good. Ben’s picking up our suits today and Amy is spending the day with her mum having beauty treatments.’
>
‘Sounds fun.’ Evie realised belatedly that she should be wearing gloves; her fingers were turning gold. ‘The flowers will be arriving tomorrow, so we’re on schedule for Friday.’ She unearthed a pair of old rubber gloves from the cupboard. She glanced over to find Scott smiling at her. ‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘You seem less … tense.’ He cut through a length of wire.
‘I feel less tense.’ She slipped on the rubber gloves, debating whether or not to tell him. What the hell. ‘I received a Facebook message from my ex yesterday.’
Scott stopped what he was doing. ‘You did?’
‘I had to read it a few times, just to be certain I wasn’t going mad. But it appears Kyle is a reformed character.’ She swivelled the jar, spraying the other side.
Scott raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Reformed?’
‘I know. I was sceptical too.’ She turned the jar again. ‘Apparently, he was referred for counselling by his doctor. He’s been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder following his time in Afghanistan.’
‘He was in the army?’
Evie nodded. ‘He left after two tours, found the whole thing too stressful. Anyway, he’s responded to counselling and as a result is feeling a lot less paranoid, which is a common side effect of PTSD, apparently.’ Evie resumed spraying the jar. ‘During the sessions they got onto the subject of me.’ She paused. ‘What phrasing did he use … Oh, that’s right. They “explored his obsessive behaviour”. As a result he now understands his conduct was unacceptable. He claims he was unaware of how much he’d upset me and feels remorse for his actions.’
Scott frowned. ‘Do you believe him?’
Evie thought about this. ‘I guess so. I mean, I want to believe him. It’s what I’ve been praying for these last two years. Apparently, he’s been in a relationship with a girl from Newcastle for six months. He’s moving up there with her. He wanted to make things right with me before he left.’
Scott cut another length of wire. ‘Good riddance.’
‘I agree.’ Evie placed the jar to one side to dry, selecting a beer bottle to spray next. ‘From now on I’m not going to dwell on the past, but look to the future and focus on the positive side of life.’
Scott smiled. ‘Good for you. You deserve to be happy.’
His expression turned mushy, setting off warning bells in her head. She turned away, breaking the connection. He had a girlfriend and was no longer available … which was a damn shame.
Change the subject. ‘I nearly forgot. I have something for you.’ Opening the drawer, she handed Scott a DVD. ‘I found this on eBay when I was shoe shopping. It’s a guide to making a best man’s speech. Sorry it’s so late, but I hope it helps.’
He studied the DVD. ‘Thanks. I haven’t written the speech yet. I’ll take a look.’
‘No problem. I wanted to help. Oh, and this came with it.’ She took out the booklet from the drawer, nervous about giving it to him. ‘But I wasn’t sure whether or not… ’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I could read?’
She felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘It was something you said about writing letters backwards …’ She trailed off, unable to gauge his expression.
He seemed to swallow awkwardly. ‘It’s okay, I know I’m dyslexic. I’ve never been formally tested, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work it out.’ His expression turned rueful. ‘For the record, I can read. Not great, but enough to get by. It’s writing I have a problem with.’
She struggled for something profound to say that wouldn’t come across as patronising. ‘Didn’t you get any help at school?’
He shook his head. ‘I messed around too much, kept below the radar so the teachers wouldn’t pin a label on me.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Stupid, huh?’
She nudged his arm. ‘Not stupid. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the smartest people I know. You’re very emotionally intuitive. I mean, who else would buy someone they’d just met locally produced honey to ease their hay fever? And you run your own business. You’re an excellent carer. In fact, you have many admirable qualities that make you a really special person.’ She hadn’t meant for her pep talk to become so personal, but once she opened her mouth it all flooded out.
And now he was looking at her in such a way that her skin began breaking out in goosebumps. It would be so easy to fall into those lovely strong arms and feel him pressed against her. For a moment she imagined kissing him again, the sensation of his lips moulding with hers … but that would be wrong. He had a girlfriend. She needed to stop fantasising and face reality.
She cleared her throat. ‘It tells you more about making speeches on the website.’ She pointed to the link on the booklet, eager to break whatever moment they were experiencing. ‘You never know, it might prove helpful.’ She turned her back on him and went over to the countertop.
‘Evie?’
‘Lots to do, better get on.’ She picked up the spray can.
‘Evie, there’s something I need to ask you.’
Reluctantly, she stopped spraying and turned to face him. The tone of his voice indicated he wasn’t about to ask her today’s cricket scores. Her anxiety shifted up a gear when she saw the seriousness of his expression. What the hell was he going to ask?
‘Evie …’ He seemed to steel himself. ‘I want to buy into The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop.’
Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. ‘Excuse me?’ Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly.
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Random, I know. The thing is, Mum left me a chunk of money. She wanted me to use it to invest in my future. The thing is, I’m happy working on a self-employed basis, Ben is sorted, so what else am I going to spend it on?’
Was he serious? ‘Er … a zillion things, like a house, or a car?’ Evie’s head was spinning. Surely he needed it for a wedding if he was back with Nicole?
He was shaking his head. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot. This is a great shop and you’re making a real success of it. Selfishly, it’s a good business investment. You told me it was your dream to buy it and this way you wouldn’t have to relocate.’
She was struggling to make sense of what he was saying. ‘But I can’t take your money.’
‘You’re not taking it. I’m offering it. Why is it any different to accepting a loan from a bank?’
Because I don’t have inappropriate dreams about my bank manager, Evie stopped herself saying.
He shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets. ‘This isn’t charity. It’s a business deal. I’m making an investment with hopefully a profitable return. We both win. You get to keep The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop, I get to respect my mother’s wishes by investing in my future. There is no downside.’
Other than the fact that Evie would have to keep seeing the man she wanted but couldn’t have. Hadn’t she had enough torture in her life? But this was her dream, what she’d wanted for so long. The opportunity to run her own business was within touching distance … And he was moving back to London, so she wouldn’t have to see him that often. All she had to do was say yes.
He blew out his cheeks. ‘You’re killing me here. Can you say something, preferably, “Yes, please, Scott, I accept your offer.”’
‘On one condition,’ she found herself saying.
He looked relieved. ‘Name it.’
‘If I’m able to secure funds elsewhere, you’ll let me buy you out … with interest, of course.’
‘Not necessary.’
‘Please, Scott.’ She needed him to understand. Well, not understand, because that would involve her admitting she wanted to be with him, which would be humiliating. But she needed him to accept her terms. She was trying to preserve her sanity here. ‘It’s a really kind offer, and I’m more grateful than I can say, but the stress of owing you money doesn’t sit comfortably. Defaulting on a bank loan wouldn’t be ideal, but it wouldn’t be personal. Letting you down would be awful.’
It would finish
her. The only way she could contemplate accepting Scott’s offer was if she knew it was a temporary solution. She couldn’t spend any more of her life allowing a guy to play with her emotions.
With a rueful smile, he held out his hand. ‘You have yourself a deal.’
As she shook his hand, a rush of adrenaline flooded her veins, making her heart thump erratically. Christ, she was in trouble, wasn’t she? And this was only the first of many business liaisons. But she needed to be positive. The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop was hers! She squealed. ‘Oh my God. I’m staying!’
He laughed. ‘Congratulations.’
What should she do next? Seal the deal, make it formal. ‘I must tell Diana before she sells to someone else.’ She rushed over to the computer and fired up her email.
Saffy appeared from the kitchen, covered in gold glitter and carrying a decorated wooden name card. ‘What’s with all the whooping? Oh, hi, Scott. How are you doing?’
‘Good, thanks. Where’s your hat?’
Saffy blushed. Her black hair was pulled away from her face, revealing beautiful cheekbones, tinged with blusher. ‘I’m not a slave to the hat.’
‘Good to know. You look very pretty. Hot date?’
Saffy snorted, no doubt to conceal her smile. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ She showed Evie her painted design. ‘What do you think?’
Evie barely glanced up. ‘It’s perfect, Saffy. But I have to send this email. Scott will tell you my good news … Sorry, our good news.’
Saffy spun around. ‘Are you guys hooking up? Yes! I knew it would happen.’
Scott shuffled awkwardly. ‘Evie and I are buying The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop together.’
‘What?’ Saffy jumped around. ‘Are you serious?’
While Scott filled her in, Evie sent Diana an email telling her things had changed and she was now in a position to buy her out. It felt so good to be typing the words, despite Evie’s trepidation about going into business with the man she’d fallen hook, line and sinker for. She could foresee numerous complications looming, but she’d just have to be disciplined and remain professional and hope he stayed in London. If this was going to work then she needed to remove emotion from their partnership and distance herself. Her future depended on it.
The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop Page 33
