“All under control, honey.”
Molly paused. “I’m being a neurotic mess, aren’t I?”
“Nope. You’re being a bride. This is normal.”
“I have a checklist of items; and then I came across flowers, and I know we’ve gone over this a hundred times, but you know, I just had to check.”
Sam was used to this. Brides called her all the time, even if everything was perfect. “Of course you had to check. Call anytime. But Molly? I’ve got this. Trust me.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sam.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up, figuring Molly would call her again tomorrow.
Which didn’t bother her at all, because as a florist, her job was to keep her customers happy. And when one of her customers was also one of her closest friends, that counted double.
She delivered the afternoon flowers, then came back to clean up the shop and prep things for tomorrow morning. By then it was closing time, and she made a quick grocery list so she could dash in and get what she needed for dinner tonight.
She had no idea why she’d invited Reid over for dinner. First she had to go in and start blabbering at him like she had some kind of motormouth disease.
Ugh. What was wrong with her, anyway? She was normally calm and in control of herself.
Except around Reid for some reason. Ever since that night at Logan and Des’s wedding when she’d sat next to him and felt an instant ping of attraction.
And once it was there, she’d been ridiculously shy around him.
Normally when a woman was shy, she’d be quiet, right?
But not Samantha. No, she had run-of-the-mouth issues when she was around a man she was attracted to.
So what did she do with Reid? She invited him to dinner. An impulse suggestion, for sure, and only because she really wanted to see the blueprints. But was that the only reason? When he’d been in town in the spring for the wedding, she’d definitely felt that tug of . . . something.
Then he’d gone back to Boston and she’d ignored it then, figuring it was nothing more than a passing mutual interest in the mercantile, but seeing him today, that tug had been something entirely different, and totally biological.
She chewed on her bottom lip and decided to call her best friend, Megan, for some advice. She punched in Megan’s number on her phone.
“What’s up, Sam?” Megan asked when she answered.
“Reid McCormack is back in town.”
“Oh, great. So he’s going to start work on the mercantile.”
“Yes. I popped over there today when I saw him go in. And then I invited him to dinner.”
Megan paused. “That’s interesting. Why?”
Sam pulled up the stool behind the counter and took a seat. “I don’t know. Impulse. And, you know, I got to talking to him. I might have overtalked.”
“You babbled.”
Leave it to her best friend to know her so well. “Yes, I babbled. I guess I babbled my way into inviting him over for dinner. We were chatting about the building and he had the blueprints, which I was really interested in, and I could tell he was busy, so it was an impulse thing.”
“Always go with your impulses, Sam. You’re obviously attracted to him. Did he say yes?”
“He did. And why do you think I’m attracted to him?”
“Everyone saw the way the two of you hung out at the mercantile in the spring.”
Sam frowned. “What do you mean, everyone saw? What did they see?”
“Oh, you know. Heads together, wandering around checking the place out. And when you climbed up the ladder to look at the tin ceiling? He checked out your butt.”
Sam leaned her arms on the counter. “He did not. He did? Really?”
“He did. Chelsea and I were watching. And he was not looking at the ceiling. He was looking at your butt.”
“Now that is interesting.”
“I know. So enjoy dinner. And see what happens for dessert.”
“I will. But you know, I didn’t invite him for dinner to have . . . dessert with him.”
Megan laughed. “Sure you didn’t.”
“Megan, I’m serious. I just wanted to see his blueprints.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re so funny.”
“I know I am. Call me tomorrow with all the details.”
“Okay.”
She hung up, grabbed her purse and locked up the shop, then headed out to her car. Once inside, she looked at her phone to double-check her grocery list.
She was going to cook a spaghetti dinner for Reid McCormack tonight, and then she was going to look over his blueprints. And by blueprints, she really meant actual blueprints. Nothing involving “dessert.”
But if he checked out her butt again, dessert might be back on the menu. And she wasn’t talking sweets.