Perfectly Played: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Love & Alliteration Book 1)

by Holly Kerr

  I didn’t hear her phone, but the way Hayley snatches up makes me wonder if it’s hardwired to her pulse.

  I pick up mine.

  And his friends.

  Maybe Flora will get the hint. She’s come out with the team a few times. Everyone likes her—she’s fun and funny and into baseball as much as the guys are. She flirts with Trev and listens to Imad’s baby stories and laughs at Clay’s jokes.

  Where?

  As much as I want to see her, I can’t let her show up. Trev would never forgive me, because if Flora was there, Freyka wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Neither would Hayley, but she doesn’t have a chance to begin with.

  Maybe another night.

  “So you don’t like kids?” I ask after Hayley sets her phone back onto the table.

  “I love kids. I just don’t approve of teenagers.”

  “You know kids grow into teenagers, right?” I ask with a smile, but Hayley frowns.

  “Of course, but they don’t have to be so self-absorbed. I’m not a parent yet, but I’ve already come up with strategies to help my children bypass the spoiled teen years and go straight into adulthood.”

  “Ah.” There isn’t much to say about that.

  “Please don’t think I don’t like kids,” she continues. “I know that’s a deal breaker for some.”

  “A deal breaker?”

  “Trevor said you recently broke up with your fiancé, so I assume you’re looking for a potential wife.”

  “He—what?” I turn and glare at Trev, who’s busy smelling the wrist of Freyka. I have no idea why, but they both look happy about it.

  “He said your girlfriend left you at the altar, so of course, you’d want to find a replacement as soon as possible.”

  “Ah, no, actually I’m really not looking for a replacement, or potential, or a relationship in general. I’m just…not.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Why not? Is there something wrong with you?”

  “Because I’m not looking for a relationship?”

  “You have the normal baggage of a never-been-married, almost forty-year-old man, but I was wondering if there was anything else? Just so I’m aware of everything. For research.”

  “I’m not even thirty years old,” I correct. “And I don’t think you need to research me.”

  “I did Google you,” Hayley admits. “You seem a little lacking on social media, which was a little disconcerting.”

  “Disconcerting?”

  “I also read about your shoulder injury that cut your baseball career short.”

  “Why did you ask what I was doing if you knew that?”

  “Because I wanted to see if it was something you would try to hide from me.”

  The only thing I want to hide right now is myself.

  “No, I’m not trying to hide anything,” I say, wondering how I can get out of here.

  My phone buzzes.

  R u on a date?

  What am I supposed to say to that? I’m not on a date but Hayley seems to have other ideas.

  “That’s refreshing. So many men I date are all about keeping their issues quiet. I’d rather know upfront what I’m getting into.”

  “What exactly do you think you’re getting into?”

  “I’m prepared to sleep with you tonight, which usually precludes a relationship.”

  “A relationship?” She’s prepared to sleep with me tonight? I’m tempted for about three seconds.

  “That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

  “No. I already said I wasn’t. If you’ve come here with that assumption, then I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “So you don’t want a relationship with me.”

  “Uh—no.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, that does take the pressure off, doesn’t it? Admittedly, I wasn’t thrilled about being involved with a man who coaches children’s baseball. I mean, you’re opening yourself up to a whole bunch of lawsuits.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Harassment, assault, sexual predation–”

  “Are you implying that I’m some sort of pedophile?”

  “Of course not, but teens these days—”

  “Are you serious? No one—not a child or a teen or an adult has ever implied that I’m anything of the sort. I can’t believe you’d even bring it up.” I shove back my chair with a loud scrape that draws Trevor’s attention. “I’m out of here.”

  “You’re being so defensive!” Hayley accuses.

  “You’re accusing me of being a pedophile!”

  “I never said that—you did!”

  “Practically accused.” I pull out my wallet and throw money on the table. “That’s the last time I’m doing you a favour,” I say to Trevor before walking out.

  R u on a date?

  ??

  Flora’s text is still unanswered.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Flora

  I drive through the roads of Niagara-on-the-Lake, dotted by wineries and new craft breweries. Orchards and grape vines on either side of the road lead the way to Shaughnessy’s, the biggest nursery in the golden horseshoe.

  Caught up in my thoughts, I don’t notice the scenery.

  Dean went on a date.

  I never responded to his last text but his Not anymore was a pretty good indication of what is going on. He’s ready to move on with someone other than me. And he didn’t even tell me.

  The thought hurts more than a punch in the chest.

  “Are you stopping by, or heading right to the house?” Ruthie asks.

  I’ve been so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize Ruthie woke up. From the soft snores in the backseat, Cappie is still out cold.

  “I thought I’d stop by.”

  “Thought you would.” Ruthie yawns and stretches. “You’re quiet.”

  “You were sleeping.”

  “That’s never stopped you before. You still brooding about that Dean guy?”

  “I’m not brooding.” I don’t realize my foot is pressed down on the accelerator until Ruthie pointedly leans over to check the speedometer.

  “Feels like brooding to me.”

  “What do you know about brooding?”

  “About as little as I know about this Dean guy. He was cute, if I remember correctly. That was a bit of a wild night, wasn’t it?”

  I don’t respond.

  “Who was he out with last night?” Ruthie asks.

  “I have no idea,” I say, the sharpness on my tone sounding wrong.

  “What I can’t figure out is if you’re pissed he was out with another girl, or that he didn’t tell you about it.”

  “I’m not pissed off at anything.” When I glance over, Ruthie’s eyebrow is lifted so high it’s like defying gravity. “I’m not.”

  “Sure. But if you say you’re just friends with him, this seems like a bit of an overreaction to me.”

  “You know nothing about this.”

  “You forgot the Jon Snow part.”

  “What?” I snap.

  “Oh, you are in a mood!” Ruthie laughs. Normally, this would only enrage me further, but her attempt at humour manages to do what she wanted.

  “I’m not,” I mutter with the iciness disappearing from my voice.

  “You like him.”

  It takes me a few kilometers to answer and Ruthie shows a remarkable amount of patience as she waits for me. “I shouldn’t like him.”

  “Why not? I told you yesterday I don’t want to hear any more of that talk.”

  “I shouldn’t like him as much as I do. Is that better?”

  She turns to the window. “You’ve fallen for him.”

  I fell for Dean when he kissed me in the hallway of the hotel. I fell for Dean when he bought me a rose in the IHOP. I fell for Dean when I ran into him trying to get away from the chapel.

  It hurts more than when I fell in love with Thomas.


  “I wasn’t supposed to,” I say in a small voice.

  “You weren’t supposed to get all into Thomas like you did, but that never stopped you. I talked to M.K. and this guy sounds like he’s a keeper. Don’t screw it up because you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  It takes a few more kilometers of contemplation for me to find an answer for Ruthie. And it’s one that surprises me as much as it does her. “I don’t know if I’m over Thomas.”

  I feel Ruthie’s gaze on me but I don’t turn. It’s not until I hear her cooing at a just-awoken Cappie that I glance over.

  “Your mommy’s silly,” Ruthie says to the dog.

  “I don’t think I’m being silly,” I argue. “I’m being safe.”

  Ruthie’s laugh fills the car. “What’s the fun in that? Look, you won’t know if you’re over that asshat until you try. With Dean. So what are you waiting for?”

  I keep quiet until I pull into the parking lot of the nursery a few minutes later.

  After snapping a leash on Cappie, Ruthie helps him from the car. He’s nine now, which means really old in dog years, so he deserves some help.

  Cappie used to be my Granny’s dog. I took him in when Granny moved into the nursing home and brought him to the funeral when she died. I like to think Granny would have liked to have Cappie there.

  “Hi, Flora.” A few of the employees greet me as I wander through the rows of plants, inhaling the scents of dirt and flowers. It’s been a while since I last visited.

  The nursery is awash in colours of the fall–orange and yellows and reds. A display offers pumpkins for sale, set beside hay bales and scarecrows.

  That had been my suggestion. I think back to an argument I’d had with Oliver years back about making necessary changes to the nursery.

  “Dad practically shut the place down after Halloween,” I had said to my brothers. “There’s no reason you have to do that. Do half-staff, bring in holiday decorations for Christmas and Easter and it’d be easy to keep it open. That’s what other nurseries do.”

  “We’re not other nurseries,” Oliver had spat. “We’re Shaughnessy’s; something you’d do well to remember.”

  I peek into the propagating room in the back to see what they’re working on. I’ve managed to create two new species of flowers since I’d opened my own store but Oliver still doesn’t think I know anything about the business.

  “I heard my girls were in the house.” I turn to see the trim figure of my brother Archie approaching. Ruthie runs to hug her father more to hide her guilty expression than any other reason. “So you decided to come back.”

  “I’ll always come back, Daddy.”

  “Uh huh.” As Archie hugs Ruthie, he looks at me over her head. “It’s good to see you, Flora. It’s been a while.”

  Archie is in his fifties now and his resemblance to our father takes my breath away. “It’s good to see you too. But no need to start, because I’ve already got the guilt trip from her.” Archie smiles, showcasing the lines on his face. When did he get so old? I have another sharp punch pain when I realize how much I’ve missed him. Missed home.

  “It’s nice to know she’s good for something.”

  Ruthie pulls back with a mischievous grin on her face. “Tell Daddy about your trip to Las Vegas. I told you I wouldn’t say anything to him.”

  My mouth gapes open. So much for easing into it. I expect Archie’s expression of disappointment, but not the hurt in his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you were travelling. You went with Thomas?”

  “I didn’t marry him,” I say quickly. “Yes, I thought about it, and that had been the plan, but when it came down to doing the deed, I couldn’t. I didn’t go through with it.”

  Archie closes his eyes as his shoulders slump with relief. “I’m glad.”

  “It’s over,” I add, sharpening an arrow of anger towards Thomas. How could I have picked him over my family?

  “What happened?”

  I finger a hosta leaf and don’t meet Archie’s gaze. “Long story, quick change of mind. We’re through.”

  “Out of your life, through?”

  “He’s already married someone else, so that pretty much ensures he’s out of my life.”

  He squeezes my arm. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I know you loved him, but he just wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “You sound like dad.”

  This time his hand ruffles my hair. “Someone needs to.”

  “I haven’t told Mom that’s what I went for, so please, don’t say anything.”

  Archie nods. The one thing my brothers and I have always agreed on is our mother’s condition.

  It’s not exactly a condition, even though Oliver is convinced she has the onset of Alzheimer’s. I think it’s more like dementia, but nothing to worry about yet. Penelope Shaughnessy has always liked to live in her own world, where stress and conflict and problems don’t exist, and her age hasn’t changed that fact.

  It sounds like a pretty good world to me. But it also means that I stay away more than I want to, mainly because there’s always conflict when Oliver and I are in the same room.

  “You’re stopping by to see her?” Archie asks.

  “Of course. Is—?”

  “Oliver’s out of town,” Archie answers my unasked question with a smirk. “How’s business?”

  “It’s good.” Happy to talk about anything other than Thomas, I tell him about the garden I’m designing, the flowers I’m doing for a wedding and a few other projects. Nothing about my staffing issues or the orders left unfilled. “How are things here?”

  “Oliver’s looking to expand again. He’s looking at a few properties today, actually.”

  “Good for you.” It’s all I can manage. It’s my own fault I’m shut out of the business, so there’s no point blaming anyone else. Once again I vow never to let a man get in my way.

  After Ruthie wanders off with Cappie, Archie shows me a few displays and talks about the stock. I buy a few containers and a few flats of mums for my Thanksgiving display.

  “It would be easier if Fleur was associated with us,” Archie says wistfully as he helps me take everything out to my SUV. “Then you could just grab what you needed. We could help with your inventory.”

  “It would be, but I’m not associated with Shaughnessy’s. Oliver’s choice.” I can’t hide the note of bitterness.

  “And yours,” Archie reminds me.

  “Because of a mistake, one that I’ve now rectified.”

  “I’m glad,” Archie says with an affectionate smile. “You’re good at what you do, Flora, and I hated to see a man mess it up for you. We thought he’d want a piece of the company and that’s why we pushed you away.”

  I shut the rear door with a confused frown. “Thomas? He had no interest in this.”

  “Then why did he meet with Oliver soon after you moved to Toronto?” Archie asks.

  “When was this?”

  “Not long after you moved out. Before Oliver…” Archie trails off, but I know he’s thinking the words We paid you off. “Apparently Thomas said he wanted to help mend fences between all of us, but we never heard from him again. And if he wanted to mend fences, why wouldn’t he have met with me, rather than Oliver?”

  My confusion grows. “I never heard anything about this.”

  “I thought he was scoping out the business to see what you were worth. Oliver took it more seriously, and that’s why he took the steps he did. We couldn’t be sure what Thomas’ intentions were, so I had to go along with it. This is our grandfather’s business and we couldn’t let it be threatened.”

  “But I wouldn’t have—”

  “If you had married him, Flora, he would have gotten a good chunk of the company. Dad agreed that when Oliver and I got married, that we’d keep this in the family. You marry into this family, you sign a prenup giving up any rights to the business. But Oliver doubted Thomas would g
o for that, and neither of us thought you’d push for it. So we cut you out just in case.”

  It feels like my jaw is on the floor. “I had no idea about any of this.”

  “I’ll show you the paperwork if you like.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But Thomas…to have thought…” I shake my head frantically. “And I spent yesterday missing him. Never again.”

  “Remember the weekend you met him? It was at that baseball tournament when you were coaching Gracie?”

  My voice is icy with anger. “I remember when I met him, Archie.”

  “Yes, but you were so excited that he stopped in here before he went back to the city that you didn’t realize that he was taking much more of an interest in your family business than a new friend should, or would. That’s why we got worried. Maybe we were being over-protective big brothers, but we couldn’t take a chance.”

  “Are you going to be like this with every guy I bring home?”

  “Is there another guy you’re thinking of bringing home?”

  I hate that Dean pops into my head, hate that he’s the first person I want to tell this to.

  I hate that last night he was on a date with someone else and didn’t even bother to tell me.

  “No,” I say, turning away from Archie so he can’t see the sudden wetness in my eyes. “There’s no one else.”

  Dean

  I almost stop in at Fleur this morning during my run.

  It’s farther away from Clay’s but it would do me good to push myself. A simple turn, an extra loop would take me right to Flora.

  It’s like a leg cramp as I turn towards Clay’s apartment instead.

  The flurry of texts from Flora last night is the only contact I’ve had with her in days. And the lack of response from my last message leaves a sick feeling in my stomach.

  She thinks I was on a date. She thinks I was on a date with someone other than her. Even though there was nothing romantic about last night, I feel guilty about it.

  My first instinct is to go talk to her, but something holds me back. It takes all of my run to figure out what it is.