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Her smile widened. But she had new flowers.
Not giving herself time to squelch the impulse, she ripped off a piece of the notepaper he’d found on her end table and scrawled a quick reply.
I like the color you picked for the bathroom. It reminds me of Gillie Lake on a clear day. And the flowers are so pretty. Thank you. You’re welcome to do whatever you’d like to the apartment, without my permission. A.
The next night she returned home to a fully painted bathroom, a half-moon daisy rug in front of the sink—an exact match to the watering can she’d laughed at him for toting around—and a new mason jar of flowers on the windowsill. She blushed as she took in the bluish-purple blossoms. Forget-me-nots. Too bad he didn’t realize how truly fitting they were.
Best of all, there was another note. Grinning, she snatched it up.
I’m glad you liked the paint. You don’t have to keep the rug I bought, but when I saw that daisy at the thrift shop today, it reminded me of you. Everything seems to lately. D.
Her belly fluttered just imagining him in her apartment, filling it with his scent while she worked downstairs in her shop. While she stared out the window in the hopes of glimpsing him on his way into the building and fought the persistent daydreams about him her brain insisted on conjuring up with disturbing regularity. Of him making her feel alive in a place that didn’t seem nearly so depressing when he was at her side.
His hard, muscled body knew just how to move against hers to wipe away everything but him. She had no worries, nothing to fear when she and Dillon were together. It was just them. God, all that heat and passion and need—
“Stop,” she whispered, shutting her eyes.
She’d said she wanted one night. How could she change her mind so easily? She didn’t know him well, but they probably couldn’t be more different.
But she knew one sure way they were compatible, no questions asked.
She pulled off another piece of notepaper.
Thank you. The rug made me smile, just like the flowers. I like that you’re thinking of me. I’m thinking of…well, nothing that has to do with you and flowers, but maybe I wouldn’t
mind seeing your snake. A.
The next evening, Alexa came home to a gray and dreary apartment. The drizzly weather definitely hadn’t helped her mood. She’d had a blah day with not one, but two snarly customers, and only one of them had purchased an arrangement.
She sighed and set aside her purse on the table inside the door. Only one bright spot cheered up her gloom—maybe Dillon had left her another present. Or better yet, perhaps she would find him stretched out naked on her air bed, ready to do her bidding.
A girl could hope.
But alas, there was no Dillon in her apartment. And no flowers. Tonight a plastic snake peeked out of the jar on her windowsill.
Laughter spilled out of her as she grabbed the note he’d left behind.
When you said snake, I got confused. If this isn’t what you had in mind, call me. I’m all done working on your apartment. Let me know if you need anything else. D.
She added the note to her secret stash at the bottom of her kitchen drawer and filled up the forget-me-nots’ jar of water, along with adding a new crushed half-aspirin. She did the same with the jars of mountain laurel on her small kitchen table. The makeshift vases were in a triangle, the drooping flowers making a sad sort of statement. But she refused to throw them out.
How long had it been since a man had brought her flowers? Or a cheerful daisy rug she couldn’t help grinning down at as she brushed her teeth? Never, that’s when.
He’d fixed her sink, and freshened up her bathroom, and touched up the paint along the living room baseboards. Even better, she realized as she stowed her raincoat in the empty closet by the front door, he’d given that a thorough paint-and-clean job as well.
Dillon James had figured out the way to her heart, and it was pathetically simple. Though she’d spent the last year denying she needed anyone but herself, right now, she just wanted someone to take care of her.
At work, she was in charge, and she had to be strong. She couldn’t let anyone see her break, though sometimes she found herself fighting tears as she put together arrangements she knew she’d have to take to the hospital and local cemetery before the week was through. Not that she didn’t like doing her part to cheer up others. But the flowers she replaced on graves every week weren’t all that was dying. Her mentor’s beloved business was, as well.
She wanted to call Dillon so badly that her fingers twitched, but she couldn’t offer much to anyone right now. An uncomplicated relationship she could handle. Something with a definite beginning and end. The possibility of seeing Dillon any time she was at home or work made this potentially a lot more messy. She couldn’t handle any more potential messes, not when the sense of impending failure consumed her night and day.
No matter what she did—whether it was starting new advertising campaigns or arranging huge, showy bouquets of blooms in the front windows of Divine—the customers just weren’t interested. She hadn’t given up. Not even close. But tonight the breakwall around her emotions felt on the verge of collapse.
It wasn’t as if the news was all bad. She schmoozed every customer she managed to lure into the store, offering them amazing service and a plethora of complimentary add-ons. Her special attention to every person who entered her shop would hopefully bear fruit in the form of repeat business in the years to come. Especially once she started that e-mail newsletter list she couldn’t deny was a damn good idea.
But in the meantime, she was floundering.
“Not me,” she murmured, staring into the nearly empty closet she still hadn’t closed. She’d yet to unpack most of her suitcases. “The store. Not one and the same.” Even if they felt damn close.
