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She smiled in her usual cheerful, sweet way. “I’m longingly gazing at all the pretty flowers,” she said before looking at my bouquet from Diego. “Those are some awesome roses.”
“Here.” I shoved them at her ungracefully. “You want them? They’re yours.”
“Uh.” She fumbled to get a hold of them as I abruptly let go. “Um, thank you?”
It seemed more like a question than a gush of appreciative delight.
“You’re welcome,” I snarled. “I certainly don’t want them.” Spinning back to the man behind the counter, I folded my arms across my chest and sent him an expectant look, waiting for him to fix this situation he’d stuck me in with Diego.
Okay, fine. He hadn’t stuck me in any situation. I knew this. But it felt good to place the blame on him, so I arched an eyebrow, making him shift nervously and glance toward Kaitlynn and the other woman before he sent me an uneasy glance and confessed, “I’m confused. How is it bad to buy a woman flowers in order to show her you’re interested in her?”
The lady I didn’t know—a redhead clutching a wicker basket—sighed and shook her head at him. Kaitlynn slapped her palm to her forehead as if he were a lost cause. The man appeared to grow even more panicked and uncertain by their reactions, so I happily—er, okay, maybe it was snidely—explained.
“It’s bad because I asked him to stop. Repeatedly. Sure, I understand how diligence and hard work are good things to help you get what you want, but this dumbass passed cute persistence two dozen bouquets ago. Now it’s just creepy. He’s a freaking stalker, and you’re enabling him.”
“No!” The man literally stepped back and lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not. I swear, I—”
“Now he acts like I owe him something,” I went on. “I didn’t ask for any fucking flowers, and I certainly don’t want them, not from him, anyway. So I refuse to sleep with the asshole in some kind of jubilant gratitude. It’s just not happening.”
I couldn’t seem to mention the lying, thieving part about Diego, because frankly, it was too embarrassing to admit that was the kind of guy I attracted.
“Yeah,” the cashier agreed, nodding, his eyes wide with fear, like he thought I’d pull out a gun and shoot him if he dared to disagree. “I wouldn’t sleep with him either.”
“Right?” I waved a hand, glad he saw my point, only to shove it back against my hip and send him another probing glare. “So what’re you going to do about it?”
“Me?” He gulped as if he were swallowing a bowling ball. “I, um…”
“Shaw?” a voice asked from behind him. A woman’s voice. “Is everything okay out here?”
The man spun toward her gratefully, relief making his shoulders sag. “Isobel!” Grabbing her arm, he yanked her close as if she were a shield and I was some kind of weapon aimed at him. “Yes. I need you.” Once she was safely tucked against his side, he gave me his attention again, saying, “Ma’am, this is Isobel, the owner.”
Next to me, Kaitlynn blurted a quiet, “Oh!” When we all glanced at her, she blushed and covered her mouth before saying, “Sorry for interrupting.” Then she spoke to the man. “Ignore me. I just always assumed you owned the shop, Shaw.”
Shaw flashed her an indulgent smile, only to stroke his hand up Isobel’s arm. “No. I just work here. Iz is the true owner. She grows the flowers and displays the arrangements.”
Kaitlynn sent Isobel her sweet smile, the one that was so nauseatingly kind and compassionate, that made birds sing and flowers bloom. “Your flowers are lovely. I’d buy some every day, if I could.”
I rolled my eyes. If she were anyone else, I’d think she was being a suck-up in order to weasel her way into getting free flowers, but since this was Kaitlynn, I knew she was just that freaking nice.
Isobel nodded graciously to Kaitlynn. “Thank you. Though Shaw is being far too modest. We run the place together. All the woodworks are actually his.”
Shaw glowed at Isobel. It was obvious he got laid regularly, thanks to her. “This is Kaitlynn, by the way,” he said. “The one I was telling you about who always brings us snacks.” Motioning toward a bag of cookies sitting on the counter, he turned back to Kaitlynn. “And this is Isobel, my better half.”
“Nice to meet you.” When Kaitlynn and Isobel shook hands, I sighed impatiently, which gained Shaw’s attention.
His glowing, little I’m-so-in-love-with-Isobel smile faltered. “Then this is…” Blatantly turning away from me again, he picked up the redhead’s credit card and squinted at it. “Camille Blanchette.” After handing her card back to her, he finally aimed his attention to me.
I sent him a snarky little smile and waved, letting him know I was still waiting for him to listen to my grievance.
“And this…” he drew out slowly as if he were too exhausted to deal with me. “Is—”
“Gabby,” I bit out, tired of waiting on him.
Isobel turned her gaze to me, and the moment she looked at me directly, I was able to see the other side of her face, which was full of old burn wounds.
Oh damn. That must’ve hurt. A lot.
Suddenly feeling crappy for being so moody and upset just because some guy wouldn’t stop buying me flowers, I cleared my throat. “Gabriella Salazar, ma’am,” I added humbly, realizing I probably shouldn’t have come here at all. In the grand scheme of things, my complaint was frankly kind of ridiculous. Certainly much smaller than other tribulations people suffered through, like getting half their face burned off. Maybe I was overreacting.
