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“Tyler,” Gina calls, stopping me just before I round the corner. I turn, seeing her frown is still in place. Has been since I stepped foot off the elevator and accepted my coffee. “I have Pamela on the line.”
“I’m out of the country.” I keep moving, leaving Gina to brush off Pamela. Maybe I should tell her I’m off the market. Or maybe it’s too soon?
Carrying on to the conference room, I nearly make it past Sal’s office without stealing a quick peek at Lainey. Nearly. But something catches my eye, and I pull to a stop, backing up until her desk is in view. What the fuck?
“Oh wow,” Callie coos, standing at the foot of Lainey’s desk. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I hear Lainey say, though I can’t see her because she’s hidden behind a fuck off, big bouquet of flowers. Running through my morning in my head, I try desperately to search for the moment I ordered my beautiful girl some beautiful flowers. Obviously, there is no recollection, and there isn’t likely to be since I didn’t order the fucking flowers. Those peacock feathers spring out further, and my chest might be puffing a little. Again, what the fuck? Or, more to the point, who the fuck?
I’m at Lainey’s desk faster than a hound can sniff out a fox, my narrowed eyes taking in the bloom of beautiful flowers. “A bit tacky, aren’t they?”
Lainey’s head pops out from behind the elaborate array of colors. “Hi,” she says, looking a bit nervous. So she should. I cock my head in subtle question and she shrugs.
“Be quiet, Ty. They’re gorgeous,” Callie pipes up cheerfully. “Is there a card?”
“Yes, is there a card?” I mimic, scanning the spray of flowers and reaching forward to have a rummage through.
They’re swiped from Lainey’s desk pretty fucking sharpish, leaving my feeling fingers hovering over her desk. “No card.” She moves them to the top of the filing cabinet, refusing to look at me when she settles back in her chair.
“Well, whoever sent them must think an awful lot of you,” Callie sings, getting on her way. “How romantic.”
I snarl at Callie’s back as she disappears. “Whoever it is must think an awful lot of you,” I parrot in a high-pitched, girlie voice. Like a total child. “Who sent them?” I turn back to Lainey. There was a card. Of course there was a card.
“We’ll talk about it later.” She goes to her computer, brushing me off. I scoff. Not a chance. “Tell me—”
Sal’s office door swings open and my mouth snaps shut. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the conference room?” he asks.
My shoulders straighten. “Just swinging by to get you.”
Sal looks down at his watch. “Shit, I’m later than I thought. Come on, let’s—” He stops when he cops a load of the massive bouquet on the filing cabinet. Lainey jumps up and positions herself in front of them, like she wants to hide them. I want to rip the sickeningly over-the-top display to shreds. Actually, no. I have a better idea. I’m going to find out what cheeky fucker sent them, track him down, and ram them up his arse. Sideways. “Nice flowers,” Sal practically grunts.
“Yeah, nice flowers.” I bare my teeth at Lainey, pointing a finger at her while Sal’s back is turned. You know who sent them, I mouth. But she just shrugs, going back to her desk. Damn it, who sent them?
“Come on.” Sal smacks my shoulder, snapping the filthy look from my face, and we wander off together. “He must like you an awful lot, Lainey,” Sal tosses over his shoulder.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, will everyone stop saying that? I like her an awful lot. Me. No one likes her as much as I do. “Hey, I’ll be there in a tick,” I say to Sal, detouring back to my office. “I forgot to click send on an email that has to go.”
“I’ll wait for you before we start,” Sal calls.
“No need,” I shout in reply as I jog down the corridor. I don’t know how long this is going to take me.It took me over thirty minutes. Thirty fucking minutes to order fucking flowers. I’m sure Gina would have whizzed through the online order form that needed to be completed in full to simply send some flowers. Thirty fucking minutes. Short of asking me how many inches my cock is, the florist now knows everything they need to know about Ty Christianson. Thirty fucking minutes!
Once I made it to the conference room, Sal was only partway through the appraisals, and I quickly jumped in to make up for lost time. It’s been a productive meeting and would have been even more productive had I not spent thirty fucking minutes ordering flowers.
“Thanks, guys,” I say after wrapping up, quickly heading back to my office. I have a peek at Lainey’s desk as I pass, not that I need to peek. You’d see what’s filling her entire workstation from the frigging moon. Jesus, I know I said to spare no expense, but did they have every red rose in England shipped in?
