Chapter 1
I hate Mondays. And you know what I hate more than Mondays? The answer used to be school. Now it’s work.
Ever since I finished high school, I’ve been working with Soph at her mom’s flower shop—which we ended up buying. Long story. We’re still paying for it, but honestly, it’s not that bad. I could be working at McDonald’s or something. Free chicken nuggets, sure, but I digress.
I’m a business owner. How fancy is that?
So here I am, watering the hydrangeas by the window, half-listening to Soph rant as she wrestles with a stubborn roll of ribbon. “So, I have this cousin who’s gay. She’s visiting tomorrow from New York, and I thought you two could hit it off.”
I sigh, setting the watering can down, wiping my hands on my apron. “Soph, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t need a girlfriend—much less one that lives in New York, for goodness’ sake.”
She fixes the bow on a bouquet of red roses, not missing a beat. “You’re twenty-three, Anna. You’re not getting any younger. Besides, you have no social life. It’s just me, your dad, and that bitch Denise.”
I lean against the counter, watching her. “I just don’t feel like I can connect with anyone, you know?”
Soph nods. “Yeah, I know. You ditched Jenny… Jenny, Anna. You know how crazy that sounds?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one with a crush on her. You are.”
“I’m not,” she says, but a blush creeps up her cheeks.
“You are,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “She’s coming back from Gaysville soon, by the way.”
Soph shakes her head. “Whatever. You’re the one she likes. Maybe you should give her a chance.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Anna, don’t stop yourself from pursuing your happiness just because of me,” she says, not really looking at me. “I’m fine.”
“The thing is, I’m not even into her,” I say. “And it wouldn’t be fair to her to lead her on when I don’t feel the same. You should shoot your shot.”
“I don’t know. It’ll be awkward if she doesn’t feel the same… which I know she doesn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
I shake my head, a little smile tugging at my lips. “I’ve never seen you this hung up over someone.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but the bell above the door jingles, slicing through the moment.
I straighten, brushing a stray leaf from my sleeve as a woman steps inside. She moves with a kind of quiet confidence, her long, dark hair framing her face, and her grey eyes scanning the shop before landing on me. My heart skips a beat. She’s gorgeous—drop-dead gorgeous.
I blink, trying to pull myself together. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
She fixes me with a cool, almost bored look. “I’d like to purchase some flowers for a school event. It’s going to be a lot. I was wondering if you had the stock and time to make it happen.”
“Of course,” I say automatically—do we? I glance at Soph, who’s watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement. I clear my throat. “Do you have an idea of how many, and what type of flowers?”
“About a thousand should be enough. Yellow roses,” the woman says, her voice clipped. “Any yellow flowers, to be honest. I think that’s something you could figure out. I’ll leave it to your discretion.”
She’s so cold and direct, it’s almost intimidating—but I can’t help but find it hot. I nod, grabbing my notebook. “We’d have to custom-order them. It might take a few days.”
“The event isn’t due until the end of the month. Three weeks should be enough, no?” She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Do you also deliver and arrange them at the location?”
“Yes, that’s no problem.” I scribble notes, then glance up at her again—big mistake. My cheeks burn. “We’d need to check out the location beforehand… to plan.”
“Sure.”
“Under what name?” I ask, trying not to stutter.
“St. Michael’s High School.”
I nod, jotting it down. “Right…” I glance at Soph, silently pleading for backup, but she just grins. “And a phone number?”
The woman leans over the counter, her perfume subtle but intoxicating, and scribbles the school’s number in my notebook. “Just text or call if you need anything else,” she says, straightening up.
“We’ll call you tomorrow to schedule an appointment to see the location. We’ll come up with a budget then, so we’re sure that’s the right amount of flowers for the space,” I say, my voice steadier now. She nods, already halfway to the door.
“Is there anything else you need to know… Ms…?”
“No,” she says, and with a simple, “Thank you,” she’s gone, the bell jingling behind her.
For a moment, the shop is quiet. “Damn, that woman is fine,” Soph says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah…” I mumble, still in a daze. “We didn’t even catch her name.”
“Do you think she’s married?”
“I didn’t see a ring.”
“Of course that’s the first thing you notice.”
“Soph.”
“Hm?”
“I think I’m in love.”
She laughs, shaking her head as she starts gathering stray petals from the counter. “You can’t be serious. She barely said five words. You don’t even know her name or if she’s dating someone.”
“Let me dream,” I groan, dropping onto the stool behind the counter. “She’s so hot.”
“I know, you almost drooled on her.”
“My goodness, Soph,” I gasp, the reality finally sinking in. “We just agreed to arrange, like, a gazillion flowers.”
“Yup,” she smirks, tossing a petal at me. “You had little hearts in your eyes. I didn’t want to burst your bubble in front of Ms. Bootylicious.”
I shake my head, ignoring her. “Can we actually do it?”
She shrugs, but there’s a glint of excitement in her eyes. “We sure can… if we do nothing else. I mean, this is great. That’s our biggest order to date. And she’s super hot. It’s an added bonus—a bit cold, but hot nonetheless. It’s okay to be a little shallow sometimes.”
“It’s not just that,” I say, frowning. “She seemed familiar… Have you ever seen her before? Maybe she’s a local?”
Soph considers, then shakes her head. “I doubt it. I would have remembered her.”
“Yeah…” I trail off, glancing at the door, half-hoping she’ll walk back in.
It’s impossible to think about anything but her for the rest of the day. Soph won’t let it go, either—she keeps poking fun at me for falling for a complete stranger I’ve spoken to for less than ten minutes. I’m pathetic.
“It’s your turn to wash the dishes,” Soph says as we step into our apartment. She kicks off her shoes, sending them skidding across the floor.
“Ugh, I hate doing the dishes.” I drop my bag by the door and flop onto the couch. “We really need to save up for that dishwasher.”
“I’ll do the dishes if you take the trash out,” she offers, wiggling her eyebrows. It sounds like a bad deal for her, but taking out the trash isn’t as easy as…just taking out the trash. It’s the hottest month Florida’s seen since the Jurassic Period, and the nearest dumpster is three streets away. Not to mention the neighborhood’s resident demon dog, who’s been terrorizing us for three years. I swear he has a personal vendetta against us, and us alone.
Ankle-biting pest.
“Fine.” I grab the trash bag and head for the door. The moment I step outside, the heat hits me like a wall. “This is hell,” I mutter, glancing down at the bag. “This is actually hell.”
“Stop complaining, go!” Soph calls from inside.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”
I trudge down the stairs, scanning the sidewalk for any sign of the devil-dog. The coast looks clear, so I pick up the pace, making it all the way to the dumpster. That’s when I hear it—a sharp bark behind me.
I groan. “Seriously?”
The dog barks again, then barrels toward me. I sprint the last few steps, hurl the trash into the can, and slam the lid shut. Too late. The little beast leaps at me, teeth sinking into my ankle. “Ouch!”
I bolt back toward the building, the dog hot on my heels. “I should’ve just washed the damn dishes!” I shout, half to the world, half to myself. My heart’s pounding, sweat trickling down my back. That’s when I spot a plastic rod lying on the sidewalk. I snatch it up, not slowing down.
He bit me first. I’m ready to duel.
I whirl around, brandishing the stick like a sword. “Come at me.”
The dog hesitates, then starts barking and charges again. “Ah! Fuck me,” I yelp, not having the heart to hit him. Instead, I just run, waving the rod like a lunatic. Luckily, it’s so hot that there’s no one else outside to witness my humiliation. And maybe I got too lax, between trying not to have a heart attack or dying of heatstroke as I run, I cross the street without looking.
The screech of tires jolts me as I look to my side, and of course, I decide to throw myself on the ground to save my life, letting go of the rod. I look up just in time to see the front of a black Audi right in front of my nose.
I pat myself down, making sure I’m still alive, as the driver’s door slams. A woman steps out, her hand running over a fresh scratch on the hood—a mark from my impromptu weapon.
“I’m okay,” I clear my throat, scrambling to my feet. She looks at me, and my breath catches. The cold gaze, the dark hair, those fucking grey eyes.
“Are you crazy?” she demands, staring at me in disbelief.
“The dog…” I point behind me, but the street is empty. Of course.
She looks, around, raising an eyebrow at me when she doesn’t see anything.
Yes, I’m crazy.
“I don’t have time for this,” she says under her breath, giving me her back.
“Sorry,” I mumble as she gets back in the car. She drives off without another word, leaving me standing in the middle of the street, wondering what the hell just happened.
