Chapter Twenty
Jake
When I step into the flower shop, my nose tingles with the mixture of different scents. Roses, tulips, those white things with long green stems, and a bunch of other flower types that I have no idea what they are line the cooler shelves and tables.
Rosemarie surveys the crystal vase in front of her. After the door closes with a whoosh, she glances up and smiles. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hello, Rosemarie.” I stride through the room, eating up the distance between us. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s better to see you.” She winks and lays a red rose on the counter. “You look mighty fine in that uniform.” She clicks her tongue. “If I weren’t climbing my way to sixty and married, I’d be knocking on your door.”
Heat creeps up my neck as her eyes roam over me.
I clear my throat as I try to figure out a way out of this scenario without looking like an ass.
“Thank you for the compliment. You look lovely today yourself.” I stick with thanks and compliments.
It tends to work in most instances. “Are you feeling better from your twisted ankle?”
“You’re so sweet. And yes, I am. All fit as a fiddle.” She returns her attention to the flowers in front of her. “What do you think of roses and tulips?”
The flower shop is warm and inviting, with shelves lining the walls and open spaces with knick-knacks and trinkets. She has owned and operated the shop for as long as I can remember.
My father would drag me here to buy my mom Valentine’s Day flowers while complaining nonstop that if he brought her flowers the week before, they’d have been half the price.
Then I’d be subjected to Rosemarie’s lecture about supply and demand.
Followed by my father’s exasperated sighs and more grumbling.
“I don’t know the first thing about flowers. I’ll leave those types of decisions to the professionals.”
“Well….” She arches an eyebrow and pins me with a look. “You should have an opinion. How else are you going to woo a worthy girl if you don’t know anything about flowers? You need to know the specific types, which ones go together, and which ones she likes.”
“You have a point.” There’s nothing else to say. Rosemarie is the queen of lectures. I shove my hands into my pockets.
“Do you have a young lady?” She carefully slides a rose between several other flowers while avoiding pricking her fingers with a thorn.
“No.”
“Ah, that’s good. Aurora will be happy to hear that.
She’s always thought you and Emily would make a good pairing.
As far as I know, Emily isn’t dating anyone, and you’d look so good together.
” Rosemarie’s eyes widen as if I’m a willing participant in this conversation.
“You should take her these flowers. I’m sure she’d love them. ”
“Emily isn’t into frivolous things like flowers and candy.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Since when?”
“Since….” Shit. I keep digging a deeper hole. “Never mind.”
When I was a senior in high school, I was at Kaleb’s house, telling him my plan to give Amanda flowers and candy when I asked her to go to homecoming.
Emily gagged and said my idea was totally unoriginal.
If I couldn’t do better than that, I shouldn’t ask girls out.
I still haven’t figured out what this ‘better than that’ is that I should do. I just know that doesn’t work for her.
She cocks her head sideways. “Let me tell you something about women. They like flowers and candy. They all like flowers and candy. They just don’t like it when you do it while asking for forgiveness because you did something stupid or because you don’t want to put out any effort.
When gifts are given in those instances, it’s a slap in the face. ”
Maybe she’s right. It’s not like I have a lot of experience in the dating department. At least not in the long-term dating department. She runs a flower shop. I’m sure she’s seen many a man purchase flowers to get out of the doghouse. And other instances where things worked out.
Her eyes soften as she lifts a pink tulip off the counter.
“But if you give gifts that have meaning, that’ll get her attention.
If you know her favorite type of flower, her favorite color, if you notice she only eats the pink M&Ms, or that she obsesses over painted tea kettles, whatever the case may be…
.” She shrugs and places the flower in the arrangement in front of her.
“If you know her heart, then you can’t ever go wrong. ”
She stands back and inhales, firmly in her element as she smiles at her completed creation and then meets my gaze. “And you can guarantee that you’ll be greatly rewarded for your thoughtful gift.”
I pull on my collar. Lord, how high does she keep the temperature in this place?
Emily’s favorite color was always purple. Or lavender. Or some shade like that. And her favorite flowers are roses. Or were roses back when she was in high school. Who knows what her favorites are now.
And, she always picked the purple Skittles out of the package before giving Kaleb the rest. My eyes land on the deep plum roses in the cooler.
Don’t do it. She’s barely at the point of tolerating you.
“Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” She beams and brushes a stand of silver-tinted hair behind her ear. “Now, what are you really here for if it’s not for advice on women and relationships?”
Now onto a topic I’m confident with. I’m here to improve police and community relations, not to talk about my lack of understanding of how to get a girl.
“I’m going from shop-to-shop, touching base with the owners, seeing if there’s anything that the police can assist you with.
I know this is a small town where everyone knows each other, so it’s probably not necessary, but if you need something, I want you to feel comfortable enough to call.
This is something we did in the city, and I thought it’d be nice to do it here. ”
“That’s a great idea.” Rosemarie settles onto the barstool behind the cash register.
“We don’t have a lot of crime around here, but that doesn’t mean we’re immune.
Last month, a kid from the city tried to steal a watch from Lloyd’s shop, and he was in my store a few minutes before.
I thought he was acting suspiciously, so I alerted the other owners in our group chat. ”
“Group chat?”
“Yes. We have a group chat where we keep in contact. Usually, it’s about community events, but it also comes in handy if we see something that doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s a great idea.” God, I love small towns. A group text between all the owners? I file that information in my head to send my old chief the idea.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks bloom with the same tint as the pink rose in the vase she designed.
She collects the arrangement off the counter and opens the closest cooler, sliding the flowers next to the plum-colored roses that caught my eye.
“When Lloyd messaged back that the kid wanted to look at one of his diamond Rolexes, we contacted Chief Carter at the station. He was here in less than four minutes.” Her eyes darken with the memory.
“Right as the kid fisted it and turned as if he was going to walk out, Chief Carter swooped in and saved the day.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear there was a positive ending. Unfortunately, increased traffic from the city will find its way here, thinking that we won’t be prepared.”
“Well, they’ll think wrong.” Her chest puffs out with pride.
When my phone rings, I glance at the screen. Emily. My heart skips a beat. “Hello?”
“Hey, I hate to bother you.”
“You aren’t bothering me. What’s going on?” If Emily is asking me for something, it’s important. I step to the side, away from Rosemarie’s prying eyes and ears, but I’m not fooling myself. She’s going to listen.
“Bella is having problems with her ex. He’s been finding her phone number and harassing her. She’s changed it three times.” The tone of her voice is heavy with worry and something else. Exhaustion?
My shoulders tense as I turn away from Rosemarie. “She needs to get a restraining order against him.”
“She’s on her way to do that in a few minutes. Can you tell me what steps she needs to take?”
“Absolutely.” I fill her in on where to go and who to contact. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. This helps. Thank you. Her father, Ben, Sam, and Dominic are on their way to confront Brock at his father’s office.”
“Brock Emerson?” When she confirms the man’s identity, I roll my shoulders. “I’m a few blocks away from there. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Thank you.” The gratitude in her voice makes me hopeful that we’ve turned the corner and maybe she’ll continue to warm up to me. And flowers might not hurt.
“You sound tired. What time did you get home last night?”
“It was after eleven,” she sighs. “Then before I could get to sleep, I got called to fill in for several hours on the night shift.”
Why isn’t she asleep? She’s been up for hours. The woman doesn’t understand the concept of taking care of herself. “You need to get home and get some rest. You’ve got to be running on fumes.”
“Um, right. Thanks. You’re right. I’m exhausted.”
“Get some sleep. And Em?” When she asks, ‘What?’ I say, “Thank you for calling me.”
After I hang up, I pull out my wallet. “I’ll take that vase of plum-colored roses, and that other one with the white tulips in it.” I point to the one in the adjacent cooler. “And four of those huge bags of Skittles.”
“Perfect. It sounds like you have important police work you need to do.” She winks.