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Mrs. Kirk analyzes me. “Okay.” She makes me talk to her about any other issues I’ve been having lately, and then I’m leaving.
My fingers tap against my steering wheel as I think about what she said. Is it really an option for Brittany not to take me back? How likely is it? What am I going to do if she refuses to give me a chance? I catch sight of a florist shop and pull into the small lot. I’m overwhelmed by the floral aroma that hits me the moment I walk into the door.
As I glance at all the flowers on display, I realize I don’t even know if Brittany likes flowers, much less which is her favorite.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to see an elderly lady, probably only five feet tall, wearing an apron and her hands propped on her hips.
“I was hoping to get some flowers.”
“What kind?”
“Um.” I glance around. “I have no clue.”
One corner of her mouth lifts. She finds me amusing. “Do you know what kind she likes?”
I chuckle and shake my head. Of course the reason I’m here is obvious. Why else would a man buy flower
s?
“How much trouble are you in?”
“A lot.”
“Girlfriend or wife?” she asks, already looking around the room at her options.
“Ex-girlfriend I’m trying to win back a year after we broke up.”
“Whew. You are in trouble. I’ll fix you up something nice if you don’t mind waiting about twenty minutes?”
“That’s fine.”
She motions toward a vacant seat, so I sit down while she disappears into the back. “Do you need a vase?” she calls out.
“Yes, ma’am.” Twenty minutes later, she returns with a bouquet of what she says are sterling roses. As she rings me up, I ask, “Do flowers even really help?”
“They can’t hurt,” she answers. “They are always a nice surprise as well. I wish you luck.”
“Thank you.”
It doesn’t take me too terribly long to drive to Brittany’s apartment. Hopefully, she’s home and won’t mind my surprise visit. Hell, I hope she likes the flowers. As I knock on her door, I realize I’ve never bought anyone flowers except for my mom every year on her birthday. A moment passes and no one answers. I guess she’s not home. Should I leave them here or come back later?
Before I can decide, I hear her voice behind me. “Trace? What are you doing here?”
Fucking hell. Her ex-boyfriend is with her. What was his name again? Brittany is eyeing me and the flowers with discomfort while the guy is glaring at me. I have at least seven inches on him, and I smirk when he stands up taller.
“I just wanted to drop these off with you,” I start, finally answering her question. “I was checking in, too.”
She bumps into me as she unlocks her door. “Nothing has changed,” she says quietly. Brittany pushes the door open and motions for Quinn to go in. “I’ll be only be a sec.” I rake my gaze up and down her body. She’s dressed nicely, like maybe she just came from work. “Stop looking at me like that,” she snaps.
“Sorry,” I mutter the lie. “You don’t have to do anything or say anything. Just take the flowers.” I don’t want to pressure her in any way or become a jealous jackass or do anything to rock the boat.
Brittany slowly reaches out to take them from me as if they might bite her or startle her in some way. “They’re pretty.” She dips her head to inhale the scent and then tilts her head back to look at me, a small smile on her face. “Thank you.” We can hear Quinn moving around inside. “He’s just grabbing some of his things,” she explains.
“Good to know.” I grin, causing her to roll her eyes.
“You should go, Trace.”
