Epilogue 2
Maggie
I check the list on my phone and sigh. This is my last delivery for the day. The kid I hired to deliver flowers flaked on me, and now I’m stuck doing all the damn things. Not that I mind making deliveries. That’s the best part of the job outside of the flowers themselves. Watching someone’s face light up when you bring them a huge bouquet of roses—that’s why I got into this business. Well, that and I generally do better with plants than people.
I get out of the van and go around to the back to get the large arrangement. I don’t know what he did, but it must have been really bad. There are two dozen roses and other assorted blooms in a cut glass vase with a card that simply said “I’m sorry.”
Please, dear lord above, let it be a forgotten birthday or anniversary and not a cheater.
Hefting the vase, I use my hip to nudge the doors closed and then make my way inside. There are metal detectors, but the guard waves me to the side and does a wand sweep instead.
“You’re good to go,” he says.
“Thanks!” I move around all the security equipment and make a beeline for the elevators. It’s a short ride up to the third floor and the county attorney’s office. The doors slide open with a swoosh and I’ve not even cleared the threshold when someone slams into me. The vase drops, and I manage to catch it before it crashes to the ground, but there are casualties. A shower of petals and leaves, along with a significant amount of water, is on the floor of the elevator.
“Elevator etiquette is pretty standard, you jerk. If you’re getting on, you wait for other people to get off first!” I snap.
“How was I supposed to know you’d have a whole freaking jungle in your hands?”
The masculine voice is filled with impatience, sarcasm, and no small amount of hostility. I look up at him and point to the logo on my jacket. “I am a florist. And I know what you are.”
“I’ll pay for the damn flowers if you’ll just shut up about it.”
“It’s not the money! I hand selected each one of these blooms to make the perfect bouquet. While it’s still pretty, it’s not perfect now and it was before. You can’t just cover the cost of spoiling perfection!”
He rolls his eyes. His very, very blue eyes. If not for the sneer on his face, I have to admit he’d be incredibly hot. But this personality deficit he’s got going on would be a killer even if he looked like a freaking Hemsworth.
“They’re flowers. It’s not a big deal,” he says, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet.
“If you dare to throw cash in my face, so help me, I will make you eat it.”
Apparently he takes the threat seriously because he just tucks his wallet back into his pocket and lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Have it your way. But let the record show that I made an attempt at restitution.”
A lawyer. I should have fucking known. I get up from where I’ve crouched on the floor to try and repair the damage to the arrangement. It’s as good as I can make it. “Some things can’t be made up for. And let the record show, it’s not the flowers that’s the problem here. It’s you. You and your superior attitude.”
I brush past him and make my way down the hall. But I can still hear the elevator door dinging. And when I reach the county attorney’s office, I glance over my shoulder and see him still standing there in front of the open doors. Watching me. Then a slow grin spreads over his face.
I know that look. “Not a chance in hell, hotshot.”
“We’ll see about that,” he fires back. Then he ducks into the elevators and is gone before I can think of a suitable comeback.
“Asshole.”
Shaking off the encounter, I take a deep breath and open the office door, a professional-looking smile pasted on my face and a hot but surly attorney far from my mind. This is the year to get my business off the ground. I won’t do that by letting myself get distracted.