are.”
“Okay, I am.” She grinned. “But I do it with a great deal of affection.” And a fair amount of flirting.
Her inner flirt had been in permanent time-out until she’d met Sam Hart. He was a walking, talking warning about why she’d sworn off men. Lack of commitment. Flitting from one woman to the next. Pretty to look at but shallow as a cookie sheet. The silver lining was that the reminder came with built-in caution to never let her interaction with him be more than business. Hence, he was safe to flirt with.
“Okay, then, at the risk of making you even more insufferable than you already are, I’d like to send a lovely, tasteful bouquet. With peonies,” he added.
It was really hard not to gloat. But she was nothing if not a plant professional. “Where would you like it delivered? And what’s the name on the card?”
“Blackwater Lake Lodge—”
“Ah. A tourist.”
“Really?” His tone scolded her.
“Not judging,” she said quickly. “Just an observation. A name would be helpful.”
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Kiki Daniels. And don’t you dare—”
“Never crossed my mind,” she lied, pressing her lips together to suppress a smile or any words that might try to slip out.
“I don’t believe you.” He gave her the room number and instructed her to put it on the credit card she had on file for him. “You’re dying to say something so spit it out before you explode.”
“Okay. Does she look like a Kiki? I mean perky and—” she held her hands out in front of her chest “—lots of personality? Long blond hair and flaky as a French pastry?”
“Wow,” he said. “Stereotype much?”
“It’s just that I know you so it’s not exactly stereotyping.” She had an order pad and pen ready. “What do you want the card to say?”
He thought for a moment. “‘It’s been fun. Best of luck.’ Sign it Sam.”
“Past tense and positive. Got it.” She jotted down the words. “I’ll take care of this for you. Anything else?”
“Yes, actually. My parents are in town and it’s my mother’s birthday. I’ve put off shopping because the woman has everything.” He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“I can do a beautiful arrangement. What’s her favorite color?”
He stared at her for several moments. “I didn’t know there would be a pop quiz. And don’t even think about asking what her favorite flower is.”
“What kind of a son are you? How can you not know your mother’s favorite color?” She was teasing.
“Hold that thought.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. A moment later he said, “Ellie, I need some information. Okay. You’re right. That was abrupt. Hi, how are you?” There was an impatient look on his face as he listened. “Glad to hear it. What’s mom’s favorite color and flower?” He nodded. “Got it. Thanks. See you tonight at dinner.” He met her gaze. “Star lilies. And pink.”
“Excellent. Pink ribbon it is.” She wrote down his sister’s address which was where his parents were staying. “I’ll go back to the store and put together something very special for her and deliver it on my way home.”
“Thanks, Faith.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“That should do it.” He smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime. Enjoy your evening.”
Faith watched him walk out the building’s double glass doors and objectively analyzed the man’s butt. On a scale of one to ten his was an eleven and a half, which made her sigh. There was no denying she loved owning her business and working with flowers. The colors and scent of the blooms. Putting different ones together for a colorful and creative effect. Everything.
Then Sam Hart had moved to town and turned into a lucrative account. Work became a lot more interesting, not just from teasing him, but because it gave her a chance to deliver flowers and get a look at the women he rejected. Somehow it was comforting to know that perfectly pretty women didn’t have perfect lives any more than she did.
But it also made her curious. Every woman she’d met so far had been both beautiful and nice, which made her wonder why not even one of them had earned date number three. Someday she was going to find out what was up with that. So sue her—she was female and liked gossip as much as any other female in Blackwater Lake.
* * *
A week after his mother’s birthday, Sam Hart was talking to his sister on the phone. He leaned back in his office chair and glanced at the paperwork on his desk. The sheer volume was a measure of his success, which should make him happy. Should being the operative word. He thought moving closer to Ellie and her family and his brother Linc, who’d recently relocated, would make his restlessness go away. It hadn’t.
He loved his work, assessing risk and evaluating financial products for banking customers. Handling commercial and real estate loans. Managing grants for enterprising small business owners. A vision of Faith Connelly popped into his mind and her flower shop—Every Bloomin’ Thing.
The pretty plant lady had approached him on his first day in this new building—Hart Financial, LLC. She’d negotiated a price to lease space in the lobby for her flower cart, making the case that his clients might benefit from the convenience. Just limited hours at first because she had to cover her main store in downtown Blackwater Lake.
As office occupancy in the building increased and foot traffic grew, she would hire another employee to work the cart while she took care of the shop. Until then customers would have to deal with her. He smiled, recalling her rhyming blue with shrew. Not only was she pretty, but she always made him laugh. Since his protracted and ugly divorce he hadn’t laughed all that much, so it was noteworthy.
“Sam? Are you listening to me?” The pitch of Ellie’s voice sharpened.
“Of course.” He hoped there wasn’t a test. “You were telling me how much mom liked the birthday flowers.”
“‘Liked’ is an understatement. You get the son-of-the-year award. Possibly a lifetime achievement plaque. Cal sent a gift card and Linc took her to dinner. But she said the star lilies in that bouquet made her day. The scent was magical. In fact, I can still smell them a whole week later.”
Sam wasn’t about to mention Faith and share the credit. He planned to ride this hero thing as long as it would run. “I’m glad she liked them.”
“Not to change the subject, but...have you heard about the fire on Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah.” Sam swiveled his chair and looked out his office window. Clouds of red-tinged black smoke rose from the tree line to the west and curved up the hill. Fortunately it was moving away from town. “Any news on containment?”
“Not
