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“Next stop, the florist. This way.” She led him down the sidewalk past a dress shop with a big white ballgown in the window. Then past a stationery shop, and finally toBlossoming Blooms.
She inhaled deeply. “Flower shops always smell so good, don’t they?”
“Yeah, sure. I guess.” Grady followed her inside, glancing around.
Tinsley approached the counter, then turned to Grady. “What’s her favorite flower?”
“Beats me.”
“Come on, Grady. Think.”
He shrugged. “I usually just get her a mix.”
“Does she like pink?”
“Sure.”
Tinsley turned to the clerk. “We need an arrangement with some peonies or floribunda roses, mixed with some white hydrangeas and some greenery, please.”
“How large would you like it?”
“I think about eighteen inches. Thank you.”
“I’ll have it ready in about a half hour.”
“Thank you. The name is Wyatt.”
“No. The name is Steele.”
“Right. Steele. Sorry.” Tinsley pulled his arm. “There’s a coffee shop across the street. Come on.”
They had a coffee in a booth in the window, and Grady set the bakery box on the seat next to him. “This feels like a lot of trouble you’re going to for someone you don’t even know. But you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
Tinsley smiled. “I am. It’s fun. I should have been an event planner. I love doing this stuff. I think I have a knack for it.” She put her finger in a chocolate éclair they’d agreed to split and licked the icing off her finger.
“Maybe you should start your own business.”
She shrugged. “Maybe one day.”
Grady cleared his throat and stared out the window, lifting his chin to the wedding gown in the display across the street. “Sounds like soon you’ll have a wedding to plan. Every girl’s dream.”
The happiness drained right out of her. “Sure. I suppose it is most girl’s dream.”
He cocked his head. “But not yours?”
She glanced at her watch. “The flowers should be ready. Come on.” The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her and Palmer.
When they picked up the flowers, she loved the look on Grady’s face.
“Damn, Tinsley. Those are beautiful. You really do have a knack.”
She smiled. Somehow, praise from this man gave her heart a glow. She spied a display of cards. “And look. Cards.”
“Handy.” He stepped over and picked one out. Then paid and grabbed a pen from the cup on the counter and scribbled a message and his signature.
Tinsley didn’t see what he wrote, though she strained to look.
He shoved it in the envelope, and they headed to his truck.
