“I’ll try.”
Once he’s out the door, Amelia pours me a cup of coffee and I sit at their little kitchen table. We catch up for a few minutes, and she tells me what’s been going on in more detail with the press and a few superfans who get a little too close for comfort. We set up a game plan for the month and decide that we’ll go on a day-to-day scheduling basis. A morning meetup to see what her plans are for the day, and then I’ll be around to escort her into town and anywhere else she needs to go, but I don’t need to hang around while she’s home or in her studio. She’s apparently working on a new album and will spend a lot of time here, and I’ll be left to my own fun while she does. Goody.
She’s hopeful that after the wedding, everything will calm down. Either way, I plan on asking to be transferred to a different client after the month is up. Not because I don’t like working for Amelia—I always have—but I won’t stay put in this town for a minute longer than necessary. Boredom does not suit me.
“So that sounds good to you?” she asks.
I nod. “Sounds great. I’m here for anything you need. Seriously, yard work? Gutters cleaned? I’m your guy. You know I get stir-crazy when I have nothing to do.”
Amelia laughs. “I do know. Which is why I’m happy to hear you say you’d be willing to help out with other things in your downtime.”
I sit forward, eager to know what she has in mind. “Yes, anything. Name it.”
If I’m not mistaken, her smile turns a little mischievous. Anyone else would see that smile and think she was implying something sexual. But knowing Amelia as I do, it’s definitely not that. It’s something different. Something tricky. Something I’m not going to want to do.
“Great. For starters, do you mind taking a letter into town for me?”
“Sure,” I say, dragging out the word to let her know I’m onto her. “Like to the post office?”
“Nope.” She grins wider. “To the flower shop, actually.”
And because there’s only one flower shop in town, that means I’ll be seeing Annie Walker today. Shit.
If I wasn’t on edge before, on my way out the door with a discreet little white envelope in hand, Amelia calls out, “Hey, Will!”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t say no, okay?”
“To what?”
“To what’s in that envelope.” The look on her face is all plea and genuine something. “Please don’t say no.”
CHAPTER SIX
Will
This time for my trip into town, I’m fully dressed. It doesn’t seem to stop everyone from popping their heads out of storefronts to stare. I wave at a lady who emerges from the quilt shop. She blushes and waves back. A little farther down, a man rushes out of the hardware store (I think I remember his name is Phil) and asks if I need any tools. Tape measures are on sale today, he informs me eagerly and with eyes that can only be described as slightly feral.
“I’m good for today, thank you.” I try to step around him, but he steps too. I think maybe he wants some insurance that I’ll only shop in his store for anything handyman related while I’m here, so with a wide smile, I tag on, “But I know where to go if I need anything.”
“Sure you do!” he beams back, slightly over the top in a disconcerting way. He then yells over his shoulder to a guy about his same age writing in chalk on their propped-up street sign. “Todd! I said tape measures are on sale today. Not screwdrivers.”
Todd sighs and silently wipes away his intricately detailed handiwork, starting over. Man—poor Todd.
“Right, well, I’m actually headed toward the flower shop, so…” Kindly get out of my way.
His eyes narrow. “Ah, going to see our Annie, are you?”
“Sort of—but not specifically.” I move to the right of the sidewalk, and he moves with me. Again.
“Sure, sure. I get it. The kids are all against commitment these days. It’s supposedly cool to keep your options open.” He does air quotes when he says cool.
I shift on my feet and eye him, feeling like I’m missing something here. I chuckle in an easy-natured way, though. “Listen, Phil, right? I’m just running an errand for my boss.” Everyone knows I work for Amelia, but I’m careful anyway. “An errand which I really need to be getting to. So if you don’t mind, I’ll need a raincheck on our chat.” Kind but firm. The ever-present tightrope I walk.
I try to edge around him but abruptly stop when I feel Phil’s hand splay out across my chest. I slowly look down at his fingers and every ounce of congeniality I feel dissolves. Now I’m fighting the urge to wrap my hand around his wrist and twist it behind his back. I hate that that’s my first instinct when I’m touched without warning. Part of me wonders if maybe I’ve been doing this job too long. But what else would I do?
I force myself to breathe and relax—because this is Phil, a man who has lived in this town his whole life and has likely watched Annie grow up. So instead of shoving him backward with a warning to not touch me again, I look him in the eyes and listen.
“Our Annie is a sweetie, you know?” He’s saying it in a cheery tone, but there’s an edge to it that I don’t miss. Unspoken words of warning: our Annie is a sweetie, so don’t mess with her, or I’ll cut off your balls with the chain saw we have on sale today for 50 percent off. Phil and his blue-and-white-striped collared shirt, khaki shorts, tube socks over his ankles, and dad tennis shoes is threatening me. Me—a highly trained executive protection agent who specializes in hand-to-hand combat, evasive maneuvering, and weapons training. And guess what? It’s working. Phil has the fatherly stare down that makes my blood curdle.
“I know,” I say honestly, because only one look in Annie’s soft blue eyes is enough to inform a person that she has kindness and empathy spilling out of her soul.
Phil nods. “I don’t want to hear of anyone—and I do mean anyone—hurting our girl. Understand?”
I respect Phil and his tube-sock-wearing self more, even if I am a little irritated at his insinuation that I would purposely hurt her. Or any woman. “I understand, sir.”
He pats my chest and removes his hand. “And wear a shirt when you jog from now on. You about made Gemma pass out into her clearance fabric bin this morning. Woulda never found her after that.”
One month. I can do this for one month. Thirty days. I’ve endured worse.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Annie
Heaven will undeniably be made up of flowers.
There’s nothing in the world that boosts my mood like standing in my flower shop and taking in a deep breath of flowers. The morning sunshine spills through the large, shop-front windows and kisses the rainbow of blooms bursting from every corner of my little shop.
I wish my mom could see it. She adored flowers—and was even the one who started the flower crop on our local farm where I buy my wholesale flowers. She’s the reason my shop is named Charlotte’s Flowers. And as strange as it sounds, I tried to match the space to my mom’s smile. Bright, open, welcoming, hopeful. I barely got the chance to know her, and yet I ache for her often. To know what she’d think of the wooden buckets filled with long-stemmed flowers lining the perimeter of the shop. Would she like the light wide-plank flooring? I think she would love the giant old farm table in the back center of the room I found for a steal at a flea market.
What would Mom say about the void I can’t seem to get rid of? Somehow I feel like I’ve betrayed her by opening her dream flower shop and realizing it’s not enough for me. It’s got to be that my heart is ready for love and marriage and a family, and when I get all of those things, I’ll be content. I mean, one look at a picture of my parents would tell you that they had everything they needed in each other. They exuded joy and peace. I want that.