Sandy was in the back office today, working on invoices or inventory or who-knows-what, and honestly, it was kind of nice having her here. I didn’t always love sharing the space, but Sandy wasn’t bad company. Especially when I needed some cookies, I always knew she had them on deck.
The morning had gone surprisingly smooth. A slow trickle of customers gave me plenty of time to freshen up the bouquets and weed out the wilted stems—the sad little guys who had lost their will to bloom. I even had time to update the sidewalk board, the one that usually lured in impulse buyers with its cheerful quotes and pretty, hand-drawn flowers.
Armed with chalk markers and the blackboard, I plopped everything onto the counter and rolled up my nonexistent sleeves, ready to unleash my inner Picasso. I started with a cheerful daisy in the corner, my hand steady, lip tucked between my teeth in deep concentration.
I’d nailed the curved petals. Each one better than the last—so beautiful I’d even go as far as to say they were frame-worthy. My marker hit the chalkboard, ready to completely the daisy when?—
Bang.
The sound came out of nowhere, like a cannon going off in the next room. My body jolted, and my once-perfect daisy now had an abstract squiggle slicing through it. I stared at it in horror.
“Are youkiddingme right now?” I hissed, slamming the marker down so hard the cap popped off and rolled away, like it didn’t want to be involved in the drama.
Another bang echoed through the wall. And that was it. Zen? Dead. Daisy? Murdered.
I was now a woman on a mission.
I marched through the swinging black doors to the office, where Sandy was peacefully typing away like we didn’t work next door to a human jackhammer.
“Sandy!”
She jumped, her glasses sliding halfway down her nose as she stared at me.
“Oh, dear…” she muttered, slowly removing her glasses.
“I’m going next door. I need you to watch the floor,” I snapped, pointing like an overly dramatic flight attendant before spinning on my heel and storming off. Her chair squeaked as she stood, her sensible loafers scurrying after me, but I was already halfway to the front door.
The bell jingled as I threw open the door and let it slam shut behind me. I stomped down the sidewalk toward the source of my rage and barged into the unit next door.
Immediately, I was hit with a wall of noise. Some kind of hip-hop medley blared from a speaker in the corner, bass pounding hard enough to rattle my sternum. Honestly, I was impressed I hadn’t heardthatthrough the wall.
The space was chaos—dust-covered tools, power cords, and boards scattered across the floor. It looked like a Home Depot had exploded and no one had bothered to clean up.
I glanced around until I found the source of the sound and walked angrily over there to turn off the speaker.
“Hello?” I yelled.
No answer. Just a grunt and a loudthud, like something heavy had hit the ground. A shadow moved down the hall.
I folded my arms across my chest and waited. Fuming.
Then he appeared.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black hair cropped short. And those eyes—blue.Offensively blue. The kind of blue that made you forget why you were mad in the first place, which I refused to do.
His dark jeans fit him like a glove, and his carpenter’s belt slung low across his hips looked like it was holding tools, but I was too busy staring at his arms to fully focus.
This was the first time I’d seen him up close. The man was good-looking in that clean, precise way I wasn’t at all used to. Conventionally handsome. Then he smiled, pearly-white teeth shone back at me.
Were his eyebrows…tweezed?
“Hi,” he said with a smirk, his voice a whole lot softer—and much smugger—than mine had been. He walked toward me, stopping just a few feet away, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.Great.He was tall. Of course he was tall.
“Can you please keep it down over here?” I asked, skipping right over the pleasantries. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and honestly, I never had been. Especially not with people who parked in my spot and negatively increased my heart rate before noon.
He chuckled, and the smirk didn’t budge from his mouth. “I can’t exactly silence a drill.”
“Well then,” I shot back, squaring my shoulders. “Stop parking in my spot.”
