She sank down into a chair by the worktable. “I’m just going to take ten minutes to rest my feet before the next rush.”
She only managed about half of that before the bell rang, indicating another customer had entered the shop.
Trish, a local college student who helped out part-time, showed up at two o’clock so that Holly could go home to get ready for her date with Shane—her on-again, off-again boyfriend of the past two years. Rachel, who had no plans, would stay until closing time at six o’clock.
It was quarter to the hour now, and there were only a couple of customers left in the shop. Her cheeks hurt from the smile she’d kept firmly plastered on her face as she boxed or wrapped order after order throughout the afternoon, and she was looking forward to the day being over.
But when Andrew Garrett walked through the door, just a few minutes before closing time, she didn’t have to force the smile. He was a regular if not frequent customer, coming into Buds & Blooms three times a year without fail—Valentine’s Day, August 10 and November 22. She didn’t really know him. In fact, she only knew his name because it was on the credit card that he used to pay for his purchases. But for some inexplicable reason, her heart always beat just a little bit faster when he was around.
Or maybe it wasn’t so inexplicable. After all, the man was a certified hunk. He stood about six-three with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and moss-green eyes looked out beneath straight brows. His jaw was cleanly shaven, his mouth was deliciously shaped, and when he’d smiled at her the first day he came into the shop, her knees had actually gone weak.
Then she’d dropped her gaze and noticed the well-worn gold band that circled the third finger of his left hand. She should have expected as much—the only time gorgeous single men ever walked through the door of Buds & Blooms was Mother’s Day.
February 14 had fallen on a Sunday that year, and he’d been one of the first customers through the door. He’d wanted a dozen white roses, and she’d laid the creamy white flowers out on top of a fan of ferns, added some baby’s breath, then wrapped the arrangement in silver paper and clear cellophane and tied it together with white raffia. Even after three years, she remembered those details, and she wondered if that was evidence of the customer service she prided herself on or proof that she was pathetically infatuated with a handsome—and married—stranger.
“A dozen white roses?” she asked.
He smiled, and her heart did a funny little turn in her chest. “Good memory.”
She went to the back to retrieve the flowers, then added the accent foliage and wrapped the arrangement. “Can I get you anything else today?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s all.”
She rang up the purchase and reached for the credit card he held out to her. Their fingers touched—briefly—in the transfer, but she felt a jolt at the unexpected contact.
Married, she reminded herself sternly.
And even if he wasn’t, she’d made too many mistakes where the male gender was concerned to want to risk another one.
She processed the transaction and returned his card along with a receipt and his flowers.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She kept the smile on her face until he’d walked out the door, then flipped the lock and wondered, Why are the good ones always taken?
* * *
As a single woman, Rachel really did hate Valentine’s Day. But as a business owner counting the receipts, she had to love it. They’d sold more flowers in just ten hours today than they would in the rest of the month, and while Trish cleaned up the work counters in the back, Rachel restocked the display cases at the front of the store and made notes on what she would have to add to her orders this week.
“Do you want to go somewhere to grab a bite?” she asked Trish. Because of the thick gloves she wore in deference to the frigid temperature, she fumbled a little with the key as she locked up.
“Oh, um, that sounds great, but—”
“But you’ve got a date,” Rachel guessed.
Her employee nodded.
“You should have said something—I could have finished up by myself.”
“Doug had to work until eight tonight, anyway.”
“Doug? The advertising guy?”
“Marketing,” Trish clarified.
“I thought you dumped him.”
“I did.” She shrugged. “And then I missed him.”
Rachel didn’t know Doug, aside from what Trish had told her, so she bit her tongue. She wasn’t so far past twenty that she didn’t remember how it felt to be young and in love—or at least want to believe that she was. It had taken her a while, but she’d finally realized that being lonely in a relationship was worse than being alone.
She hadn’t given up on the idea of finding someone to share her life with, but she’d stopped looking for her elusive soul mate around every corner.
“But I’ll be in at seven tomorrow to help with the deliveries,” Trish said now.
“I can handle the deliveries—if you can be here by ten, that’s soon enough.”
“Really?” The young woman looked as if Rachel had given her the moon instead of just three extra hours.
“Really,” she confirmed.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Rachel couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. “Have a good time tonight.”
“We will,” Trish assured her.
Rachel waited until her employee got into her car and waved as she drove off. Because she lived only a couple of blocks from the shop, she walked to and from work. And usually she enjoyed the walk, but tonight, she was tired and hungry and just wanted to be home so she could snuggle on the couch with a bowl of popcorn to watch Criminal Minds.
Except that the way her stomach was growling, she knew popcorn was not going to suffice. When she got home, she exchanged her skirt and blouse for a favorite pair of jeans and a winter-white V-neck sweater, then slipped her feet into low-heeled boots and shrugged back into her coat. She burrowed her chin deeper into the collar when she stepped outside again and tried to ignore the cold as she headed toward Valentino’s. Thankfully, the restaurant offered takeout because, even if she wanted to sit down and eat, she knew there was no way she’d get a table tonight.
Pulling open the door, she was immediately greeted by the mouthwatering scents of tomato, garlic and basil. Her stomach growled again. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. “Rachel, hi. Just let me put this order in to the kitchen and I’ll tell Gemma that you’re here.”
“Don’t...” Her protest trailed off as Maria had already disappeared into
