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2
RACHEL
“Well, aren’t you pretty?” I say, placing the last white hydrangea in the vase. There’s something about a pomander bouquet in an all glass vase that makes me so happy. The simplicity. The elegance. It’s just so timeless.
And am I talking to my flowers? Yes, I am, but I find it therapeutic. They don’t talk back. They don’t make demands of me. They just let me create. Let me use my imagination to take singular beautiful flowers and turn them into breathtaking works of art. Like the twenty identical arrangements that will make up an event at Logan Creek Brewery tomorrow.
Humming along to the latest Josh Ross song on the radio, I grab another vase and get to work on the next arrangement when the door opens. Skylar breezes into my shop, her long blonde hair up in a messy bun, with sunglasses pushed onto the top of her head, and a bright smile.
“I brought coffee,” she says, holding up two signature to-go cups from Charmed Bakery.
“Are those also lemon danishes in the bag?” I ask, putting the flowers down on my table and standing, wiping my hands on my apron.
“You know it,” she laughs.
Kade and Lila run Charmed Bakery, and no one can leave there without some sort of delicious treat.
“We missed you at the barbecue yesterday,” she says, handing me my coffee. “It was a lot of fun.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I got busy here at the shop and I lost track of time. I did plan on coming.” Sort of. That wasn’t a lie. I meant to stop by at some point, but by the time I left the shop, it was too late to stop by. I went home and finished reading my book instead.
“Rachel, your store was closed yesterday for the holiday, along with every other store on the street.” She tilts her head.
I hate feeling like I let her down. Let them all down.
“I know, but I had to get started on all these arrangements; make sure the order for the wedding next week was correct and placed on top of our normal orders and deliveries. I meant to stop by for an hour and the next thing I knew, it was past nine.”
“I wish you didn’t work so much,” she sighs.
“Coming from the woman that single-handedly organizes and attends every event at the brewery and cidery?”
“Yes, but I still make time for things outside of that, especially now that we have Kendall.” She places her coffee on the counter next to us and places her hand on mine. “I worry about you, Rachel.”
I take a sip of my coffee, inwardly moaning as the pumpkin spice and coffee flavours hit my tongue. Damn Skylar and getting me my favourite drink to butter me up for this.
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“When was the last time you were on a date?” She raises her eyebrow at me.
“I…date.” I avoid her gaze. In honesty, I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.
“Fictional men don’t count.” I open my mouth to respond, but she forges ahead. “I’m all for reading—I loved that last book you gave me about the lumberjack, by the way—but I just want you happy.”
“I am happy.” I don’t even convince myself when I say it.
She looks at me for a long moment before taking back her hand and wrapping her perfectly manicured fingers around her cup. “Mitch was there.”
My heartbeat quickens at the mention of his name. Mitch Brandt. Tall, dark brown hair with hazel eyes that make me melt, and dimples that make me swoon. I try to play it cool, though.
I look down at my mug as I raise it to take another sip, willing my voice to sound neutral. “Oh, yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” she says with a coy smile.
“What’s that for?”
“You know exactly what it’s for. You aren’t good at hiding things, Rachel,” she chuckles.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
