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I refrained from commenting on the lunacy of her having to pay me. I wouldn’t take her money even if she’d tried to give it to me. “Yeah, of course. It’s only a few boxes, so I can help in a sec.”
Her shoulders dipped with relief, and she nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” My gaze held hers, and my stomach tightened. Man, she was beautiful. And totally out of my league.
“Thatcher,” Mom said, breaking the spell between us as she grabbed another box from the back seat.
With a small chuckle that I hoped hid my frustrated sigh, I turned toward the venue. Without her face in my line of sight, my pulse returned to normal.
Whatwasthat?
It was like that woman had me under a spell or something. She could have asked me to take a nosedive off the bridge between here and Beaufort right then, and I probably would have agreed.
I set the box down on a table next to the others and gave my mom a small smile. “I’m going to help the florist unload when we’re done if you don’t need me for anything else.”
She quirked a brow. “I know better than to ask you to help me set all of this up. It would be faster to just do it myself.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m only teasing. Well, sort of. You don’t have much of an eye for design.”
She had me there. I’d never been what you’d call artistic.
“You know,” my mother said, her voice dipping in that telltale way it did when she was about to meddle, “she’s really pretty, that florist.”
I smirked, thinking that was the understatement of the century. That woman wasn’t pretty. She was stunning.
She had the kind of smile that dragged you in before you even knew what was happening, and her blue eyes were so striking that they’d make even the smoothest guy forget his own name. Which meant I was a goner from the start. When it came to women, I was far from smooth.
Just ask the chick who dumped me first thing this morning, citing a lack of chemistry.
My mom leaned closer conspiratorially when I didn’t respond. “Maybe you should ask her to the wedding.”
I balked. “Ask her to the wedding? Are you crazy? I don’t even know her name.”
“So learn it.”
My mother was a force. My dad—may he rest in peace—was more like me. Soft-spoken and more of a numbers guy than a people person. But my mom? She knew everything about everyone, had a million and one friends, and spent the better part of my life trying to get me out of my shell.
When I’d joined the Marines at eighteen, becoming an Aircraft Rescue and Firefighting Specialist, the first thing she’d told me was that she was excited for me to get out and see the world.
Make new friends, she’d said.
Have some fun, she’d said.
Well, she’d gotten her wish. I had friends, I’d had fun, and I’d done two overseas deployments in my seven years as a Marine.
I scratched my head, looking back toward the flower truck where the blonde was loading her arms with floral arrangements. “I don’t know.”
“Suit yourself. But you know what I always say, it’s always a no unless you ask.” With a wink, she turned back toward the car.
On anabsurdly-bad-ideascale of one to ten, asking a woman I didn’t even know to a wedding that would start a few hours later seemed like an eleven.
No. I couldn’t do that. She’d probably look at me like I was a freak.
Shaking my head, I snapped out of it and got back to work. I wouldn’t ask her to the wedding, but I did promise to help her. And in doing that, maybe I’d at least have time to work up the nerve to get her number.
She headed my way with a basket of petals sealed in individual bags, and I nodded at her as I approached. “What’s your name?”
