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And if it’d resulted in me being referred to as Sergeant Charming, it must have been a good one.
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Hattie asked pointedly.
“Nope. I’m good. I’m here for this.”
With a wag of her brows, Stella rested her elbows on the counter and placed her chin on her hands. “What brings you in today, Thatcher? Getting flowers for someone special?”
I shook my head, thinking the woman in question probably had enough flowers. “I was actually hoping to talk to Hattie.”
I’d spoken to Stella, but my eyes hadn’t been able to leave Hattie’s. We stared at each other in a silent standoff, neither one of us willing to break the connection. Even from ten feet away, I was completely at her mercy, drowning in the depths of her blue eyes.
Stella sighed and backed up. “Fine, I can take a hint. But you better call me later. Bye, now.”
The spell broken, Hattie chuckled at Stella’s insistent tone. “I will.”
Her friend waved before waltzing out the back door without another word, and when the door slammed shut behind her, my chest tightened. What had I planned to say again? All of my carefully thought-out words were jumbled and out of order now.
“So, you wanted to talk?” Hattie asked, biting her lip.
I cleared my throat and stepped closer to the counter. “Yeah. Yes. I—”
The back door opened again, cutting off my words. I expected to see Stella but straightened when I saw a man wearing a Bluffton Blooms polo shirt like Hattie’s. Real men wore pink, apparently.
And unless it was a co-worker or something, this must be her father.
“Hey there,” he greeted me with an enthusiastic smile. Then he looked down at Hattie and patted her shoulder. “I can help him if you haven’t already started. I’m sure you’re ready for a dinner break.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. You go. I’ll help him,” Hattie said casually.
“I just ate. It’s no trouble.” He turned to me. “How can we help you? Are you looking for anything special? Big date tonight?”
Before I could answer, Hattie cleared her throat. “Dad, he’s not a customer.”
“Who is he then?” her dad asked with a chuckle.
I stepped forward and held out my hand. “Thatcher Reid, sir. I took Hattie to the wedding Saturday night.”
Understanding washed over him, and he nodded, slowly extending his hand and shaking mine. “Steve Walton. It’s nice to meet you, Thatcher.”
There was exactly the right amount of fatherly protection in the firmness of his grip, and I hoped my steady expression conveyed that I got the message. “You, too.”
When he released my hand, he slid a look toward his daughter, making her cringe.
I reached out and grabbed the first arrangement I saw, bringing the vase of colorful flowers to the counter. “I am a customer, too, though. I’ll take this. For my mom.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Hattie’s father said with a tight smile for me before patting Hattie’s shoulder again. “After you ring him up, take a break. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you skipped lunch. One hour. Got it?”
Hattie blew air through her pursed lips. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Thanks for coming in,” he told me, offering a quick wave before heading into the back room.
“That’ll be thirty-two-fifty for the flowers,” Hattie said. “If you still want them, of course. You totally don’t need to buy anything.”
“I still want them,” I said with a laugh, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans and fishing out my wallet. “I’ll swing by Rincon before I head back to base.”
“Don’t you have to work today? It’s a Monday.”
“I just got off a twenty-four-hour shift, so now I have twenty-four off,” I explained, handing her a couple of twenties.
