Elly hadn’t. She picked it up. “Mr. Jackson, executive producer.” Elly looked up, thoroughly confused. “What?”
Snarky Teenager shook her head. “You were so nervous that you overlooked every detail that matters. Gemma Reynolds is the associate producer. Mr. Jackson is the executive producer. That was her boss sitting next to her. That’s why she was so aggressive and eager to impress him.”
Elly frowned. “Well, why did Gemma do the interview, then?”
“Do you think a man wants to interview a florist? No. He just has the final say but doesn’t want to do too much work. He comes in and sees what everything looks like and lets her ask the questions.”
“But I thought the celebrity chose?”
“Oh, please. It’s all the producers, I’m sure. They only say that to hook celebrities and viewers.” She walked over and took Elly’s hands in hers. “It’s us. I know it. I feel it. Even though Gemma is not a fan of yours, Mr. Jackson is. He smiled every time you talked.” She paused, flinging her hair behind her shoulder and then gestured to her figure. “Also, he’s totally hot for this. He couldn’t take his eyes off me.”
Elly, taking a motherly tone, replied, “He’s too old for you.”
“Oh, totally. But that doesn’t mean his decision won’t be swayed. Trust me. We’re going to get it.”
Elly shook her head. “It’s nice to think, but I’m pretty sure they are going to pass on Posies.” She gave a sad sigh. “I’ll clean up tomorrow. I can’t even think about picking up all these petals today.” She pointed to the table. “Take home whatever arrangements you want. I’ll bring the rest over to St. Paul’s Nursing Home tomorrow.”
Anthony looked into her face with a kind sympathy. “Elly, are you sure? I don’t want to leave you so upset.”
Elly patted his arm. “I’m okay.” She wasn’t. “I’m just going to return some emails and then go upstairs and take a nap.” And eat the petits fours.
Anthony nodded and grabbed his coat, planting a quick kiss on Elly’s head. Snarky Teenager stood motionless in the window. She turned. “We got it. I know it. I’m sorry you don’t believe me. Or trust me.”
Elly rolled her eyes. “It’s not about you, but I appreciate your youthful enthusiasm.” She paused. “Sorry, that was mean. Thank you for trying to save the interview.”
Snarky Teenager took the largest arrangement off the table and packed it in a cardboard box. “Whatever.” She stomped out of the store.
Elly laid her head on the consultation table, a cream parrot tulip poking into her cheek. A tear rolled down her skin and pooled on the cool glass. I’m an idiot. This could have been cake, and I had to get all flustered and insecure just because there was a scary woman here. She wiped her nose. Maybe she was right, Elly mused, maybe I couldn’t handle myself with cameras around. I’m not meant to be seen on national TV. She was close to letting the alluring pool of self-pity pull her under but struggled mightily against the current. Finally, she spread her fingers against the glass and thought, Oh well. She could cry about it, but that felt like a waste of time. Not all was lost. She heard a soft knock and looked up from the consultation table.
Keith stood in the door, a look of concern on his face. “Elly?” he asked. “Anthony stopped by the store and told me what happened.”
Elly gave a loud groan, a twinge of sadness in her voice. “Is nothing a secret anymore?” She shrugged. “I failed. I choked. It was perhaps the most important moment of my career and I made a total fool of myself. No use throwing a temper tantrum about it. They don’t want me. So what?”
Keith eyed her. “I want you.”
Elly looked up, surprised. That was not what she had expected Keith to say. “What?” She sniffed.
Keith turned and slowly shut the door, latching the lock behind him.
“We’re still open for twenty minutes.” Elly didn’t have time to say much more. Keith’s body was moving fast when it hit hers. They both tumbled softly down into a literal bed of rose petals and disappeared in a shower of pink. Keith’s breath was on her face, on her neck, and Elly felt a wave of passion roll over her.
His deep midnight-blue eyes blinked inches from hers as he trailed a pink petal over her lips. “Elly Jordan,” he whispered, “don’t ever doubt yourself.”
Elly trailed her fingers over his face. “But I ruined everything,” she murmured.
Keith nuzzled her nose. “On your worst day, you are still more incredible than any woman I have ever met.”
Elly closed her eyes and let herself sink into the smell of him—garlic, warm bread, and an all-man scent. All she could see, smell, and taste was Keith, Keith, Keith. Keith and the color pink. Pink petals on her tongue and hands, their velveteen softness in her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered as she wrapped herself up in the comfort of his kiss. Suddenly, she didn’t care about BlissBride, or Gemma Reynolds, or anything really at all.