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“Ah … I’ve … there’s something I’ve gotta …” He hurries to take off his apron and grab a bunch of flowers, eyes fixed on something behind me.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” He holds up the flowers. “I’m buying these.”
I’m having whiplash that he’s here and gone again so fast, but when I turn and try to work out what the hell got that reaction from him, I watch him jog up one of the aisles between booths. It’s busy, but we’re not at our peak yet, so I see exactly who he’s spotted a moment before he reaches them.
Molly.
My gut bottoms out as I watch Ford hold out the flowers.
26
Ford
It’s beena week since I hurt Molly, and I haven’t seen him around since. Considering the little flirt has always gone out of his way to approach me, I knew it could only mean he was avoiding me.
So the second I see him here, I know I have to hurry.
Thing is, I might not be interested in Molly, but I don’t want him to hate me either. He’s a nice guy, and he deserves to find a nice guy of his own.
That person isn’t me, but I still want to make sure he knows it. I want to do what I should have done the other day and make things clear in an amicable way.
“Wait up,” I call, and his eyes fly wide at the sight of me.
“Are you serious …” Will says, but Molly shakes his head.
“Give me a minute.”
“But—”
“Go catch up with Dad. I’ll be right there.”
Will opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, then turns his attention the way Molly indicated. “Fine, but if he hurts you again, kick his ass.”
Both Molly and I laugh at that as Will hurries away.
I hold up the flowers. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.”
He stares for a moment, lips turned down, before he slowly reaches for them. I’d grabbed the flowers in a hurry, but they’re a gorgeous bunch. Of course they are. Orson’s good at what he does.
“What … what are these for?”
“Throwing my coffee at you for a start. It really was an accident.”
“I know.” He looks up at me through his eyelashes. “You’d never purposely hurt someone.”
Well, not someone who didn’t deserve it. I shift under his gaze and offer an uncertain smile. “I don’t want to be a dick here and say the wrong thing, but everything else I said the other day was the truth.”
“The boyfriend …”
“I’m sorry. I know …” God, how is it so mortifying to say? “I know that you maybe hoped something would happen here, but I needed to be clear with you. You’re a great guy, and I know you probably have men lining up to take you out—”
“I don’t. I don’t have anyone. Because every time I think I have a chance with a guy, he decides I’m not good enough.”
Ouch. The first thing I want to do is point out that he’s still young and has plenty of time to find someone, but fuck me, that only makes me sound old. I remember being sure I had the world figured out in my twenties. I would have hated for someone to underestimate me. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
His lips turn down even as he tries to look okay. “Fine.”
