He pushed his sagging wire-rim glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was fine. I sold a wreath, and three dozen roses.”
“Any problematic customers?”
“No. They were all pretty nice. Oh, but you did get a phone call.” Chad rummaged in the drawer underneath the counter and removed a pink message slip. He handed it to Savannah. “It was an event planner. She’s planning a wedding and was interested in a quote.”
Savannah glanced down at Chad’s neat block writing. Annabelle Holmes, Prestige Events. She’d never heard of either Holmes or the company name, but Savannah liked the idea of doing flowers for a big event. She’d only recently started handling parties and weddings, and the money they brought in was pretty appealing. She didn’t have another wedding scheduled until the end of the month, so hopefully she could squeeze this event in for some extra cash flow.
“I’ll give her a call,” she said absently, tucking the message into her pocket. She glanced at Chad with a sudden grin. “So, are you ready to learn how to arrange centerpieces?”
Her new assistant brightened. For a twenty-year-old man, he was oddly interested in flowers. Not that she blamed him. Flowers were her livelihood. There was nothing that brightened her day more than a bouquet of pretty, colorful flowers.
Well, that and sex. But she’d have to wait for tonight to experience that particular joy. She had a date with Jake later and was already imagining all the naughty things he would do to her body. For a second, though, the image of Jake’s dark eyes and dimpled cheeks was replaced with the one of Matt’s green eyes and chiseled features, but she quickly banished the thought. Matt had been cute, sure, but it wasn’t like she would ever see the guy again.
In Savannah’s life, cute guys, after all, were always in constant supply.
Chapter Two
“Would you quit sulking?” Annabelle Holmes grumbled as she steered the olive-green Jeep down a street littered with little boutiques and a vast number of coffee shops. “So you got rejected. Big deal. Actually, it’s about time. I feel comforted knowing that even sluts like you strike out every now and then.”
Matt just glared at her. Normally he enjoyed Annabelle’s endless sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood for it today. It had been almost two weeks since the encounter with Savannah at the bank, and he still couldn’t fight his disappointment that she’d turned him down. He’d even gone so far as to try and track her down, but all he had to go on was her name. He’d typed Savannah into Google, hoping maybe he’d get lucky, but he got over six million results. He’d tried Facebook too, but there was a ridiculous amount of Savannahs registered on the site, and he’d given up after scrolling through the first ten pages of photos.
So yeah, Annabelle was right. He did have to quit sulking. Obviously he was never going to see Savannah again. He knew that. But Annabelle didn’t have to gloat about it.
“You’re being very insensitive about this whole thing,” he grumbled back, then lifted the straw of his McDonald’s cup to his mouth and sucked the last drops of Dr. Pepper from it. Setting the empty cup in the holder between their arms, he added, “And I’m not a slut.”
Annabelle hooted, her big brown eyes lighting up in delight. “Yeah freaking right. You are so a slut. You had sex with me less than an hour after we’d met.”
“You wrote up a sex list,” he shot back. “So who’s the slut, hmmm?”
“I was exploring my sexuality,” she said in her defense. “You, on the other hand, finished exploring years ago. Now you’re just a man-whore. Wait, I think this is it.” She squinted. “Yeah, it’s here.”
A two-story corner shop came into view. Hanging on the storefront was a big purple sign that read Harte to Harte Flowers. He rolled his eyes. How cute.
“Besides,” Annabelle said as she executed an unbelievably impressive parallel parking job across the street from the shop, “you don’t know, maybe you’ll run into her again. If you’re meant to, you will. Fate makes things happen.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“You should.” She grinned. “I mean, look at me and Ryan. He slid into my bed in the middle of the night thinking I was someone else, and now we’re in love. Fate.”
“Luck,” he corrected.
“Stop being such a Negative Nancy.” She killed the engine and yanked up the parking brake. “All you have to do is snap your fingers and you can get laid. Why don’t you call up your new BFF Aidan and set up a pub crawl or something, you know, have a three-way or fourgy or whatever it is you guys do.”