Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
THEA
The bell chimes when I enter the flower shop.
Nathan let me borrow his car to get downtown even though I told him I could take an Uber.
It took me ten minutes just to find a parking space and while I’m thankful for his offer, that alone almost made me late for my interview.
I made sure to pair my tank top and skirt with a jacket that covered the skin that otherwise would be showing, to make it a little more professional, even though Pepper told me it would be informal—more as a formality than anything else.
“Hey, girl, go on and head to the back. They’re waiting for you,” Pepper calls out from where she’s organizing a bouquet near the window.
I offer her a smile and head toward the back while smelling in the shop to soothe my rising nerves.
When I breach the threshold to what appears to be a mix between the break room and storage, my eyes land on an older couple sitting at the table, my application in front of them.
“Hi, you must be Thea.” The older lady stands up to take my hand, which I offer in return as she shakes it.
“I’m Irene, and this is Bruce.” She gestures to the gentleman who remains seated, but I note a walker next to him so I don’t take any offense.
“It’s very nice to meet you. May I?” I motion to the chair across from them.
“Please,” Bruce says before adjusting in his seat.
Hanging my purse along the back of the chair, I pull it out and take a seat, resting my hands on the table in front of me.
It’s stifling in here but I don’t take my jacket off, attempting to make my very best impression.
“Tell us a little about yourself, Thea.” Irene offers me a sweet smile. Guess we’re diving right in.
“Well, I’m twenty-five, but I’ll be twenty-six in May.
I’m from a town called Parkmore, near Baltimore.
I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have much work experience.
My husband, well, ex-husband starting tomorrow, is in the military and so I didn’t work much.
I have some experience from when I was in school—I do fancy myself as having a bit of a green thumb as a result—and when I saw the help wanted sign I couldn’t help myself.
I recently moved here and am looking for something to do while I…
figure out who I am again.” I’d love to offer them more, but truthfully there isn’t anything else exciting about my life.
I’m not even sure what I offered them was worth it.
“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. Thank you for your transparency about your job experience.
While we did read it on your application, it’s always nice to hear it from the source directly.
However, we don’t consider that a fault.
One, because learning to cultivate plants is half of the fun, and two, because we really haven’t had much interest from folks around here.
With that being said, what brought you out this direction in the first place? ”
I crack my knuckles before I force myself to put my hands in my lap. “My best friend lives here. And I had nowhere else to go. Seemed like as good an option as any.”
Bruce looks at me with something akin to pity then, and even though that’s not what I was going for, I’m so desperate for something to fill my days with that I don’t mind using it to my advantage for once. Not when I’ve always seemed to be the one taken advantage of.
Although, I don’t really want to do that to them because they seem like a nice couple. Too late now, the words are out there. “When can you start?” he asks.
I blink, caught off guard by the quick offer. “Oh—uh, I can start right now.”
Irene smiles wider at me, giving Bruce a small nod. “If you truly want to, we’d be happy to have Pepper show you the ropes.”
“Okay, yeah. I’d like that. Oh—but I do need tomorrow free…
I know this isn’t the most professional thing to do.
It’s just, I have the final court hearing for the divorce at nine.
I can even come in after, I just won’t be able to be here right away.
” My stomach twists, worried they might revoke their offer.
“That’s no trouble, dear. Don’t feel like you have to come in at all. That’s a heavy thing to carry, so if you need the day to process, we respect that.” Irene pushes back in her chair and stands. “What kind of hours are you looking for?”
The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind; it hadn’t made it that far. “Would it be okay to start with twenty to thirty hours a week? Just until I can get back on my feet.”
They mull that over for a moment before Bruce speaks. “That should be fine. Get with Pepper and you guys can work it out amongst yourselves since we know she’s been wanting to reduce her hours.”
“Great, thank you.”
Pepper and I decided to split the week. They’re open six days a week with reduced hours on Saturdays.
I’ll be working the first half of the week while she works the second half.
Irene and Bruce are here occasionally, but mostly come in on Sunday to take care of the plants since the shop is closed, and we’ve been granted the freedom of not being on the clock that day.
Given that today is Monday, we decided to trade days since I won’t be available tomorrow.
I’m planning on working Thursday in return.
It surprised me how easily my muscle memory came back as Pepper talked me through their routine and showed me what plants needed what and where the material was to put orders together.
The hardest part for me was how to operate the cash register.
I’m sure there will be some bumps in the road when it comes to getting comfortable but I’ll cross those bridges when I get to them.
By the time I check my phone again, it’s four.
Time to close up. The shop is only open from eight to four every day, and eight to noon on Saturdays.
We’re expected to get here at seven-thirty to get an early start and usually are stuck in the shop for thirty minutes after closing to make sure the plants get their last feed of the day and the drawer is counted.
Pepper walks me through the closing routine before we’re both standing on the sidewalk bidding each other farewell.
This time when I walk back to Nathan’s car, I have a pep in my step that hasn’t been seen in what feels like ages.
Instead of going back to Nathan’s house, I decide to make a pit stop at a cute cocktail bar that I could’ve probably walked to.
Oh well. Shedding my jacket and leaving it in his car, I grab my purse and walk through the front door.
For a Monday evening, it’s exactly as busy as you would expect it to be.
Meaning that it’s not. Perfect. I choose a seat at the bar that’s on the very end while I wait to be served.
The bartender is a petite woman, probably in her forties, who appraises me with a general indifference. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll just take a Cosmo, please.” I pull out my ID and prepare to hand it to her but she waves me off.
Okay, then. No skin off of my back. Vienna by Billy Joel plays quietly on the overhead speakers as I observe my surroundings.
It’s quaint. A flashback in time. Warm, amber lighting casts a soft glow over the various wooden tables and vintage decor.
There are black and white photos of old Hollywood stars and a neon sign behind the bar that reads Good Vibes Only.
But the impassive look on the bartender’s face as she hands me my drink tells me she didn’t get the memo.
I’m not planning on staying for more than this celebratory drink, so I try to pay with the little bit of cash I have and keep no tab. But she shakes her head.
“It’s already been taken care of.” I’m about to ask her by who but she walks away from me, offering no further explanation.
I continue my perusal of the space, and note a couple that sits at a corner booth and a man in a suit at one of the high tables scrolling through his phone.
He has a half-finished old-fashioned on the coaster in front of him.
I’m about to look away but he grabs his drink and lifts it to me in salute before looking away.
Whatever day he’s having, I thank him silently and nurse my drink, fully expecting him to approach me at any point but he never does.
When I do dare to look back in his direction, he’s gone.
Interesting. Maybe my assumptions of men buying me drinks have been tainted from my experience at the club that we went to over the weekend.
Either way, the gesture without being pursued flatters me.
My drink is almost finished when my phone buzzes.
Digging it out of my purse I open up my text messages and notice one unread from Nathan.
We need to talk.
That doesn’t sound ominous at all. The last time he did this he sprung Claire on me.
Not that I mind so much now, but still. I want to be able to enjoy this time by myself so I ignore him.
I’m well aware that he’s letting me use his car, but I would assume that if he needed it, he would tell me as much.
And as such…since I didn’t pay for my first drink, I go ahead and order another, ignoring my initial decision not to have more than one.
My phone buzzes again, several times, but I don’t bother to entertain the messages.
I swirl the fresh drink in my glass, watching the bar as it starts to get busier as the evening drags on.
The low hum of conversation surrounds me while music continues to play over the speakers.
It’s nice being here. Being alone. It’s completely different from when I was home alone while I was still on base and felt like I was drowning—surrounded by memories that threatened to wrap their jaws around me and drag me under.
This time, the choice is mine. I am simply existing without expectation.
Or I was, until a shadow falls over my table some time later. His scent tells me who it is without even looking up—whiskey-soaked cinnamon and cedarwood. “You’re ignoring me,” he says with an apathetic tone.
“Am I? What gave it away?” I take another long sip of my drink before I look up at him.
He narrows his eyes on me before pulling the stool out next to me and sitting down. His fingers drum against the bar top. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
“I sent you several, after telling you we needed to talk. You didn’t think it was the least bit important?”
I shrug. “Excuse me if I didn’t want another orphan sprung on me.
” His jaw tightens and I know I said the wrong thing.
“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean it.
I just wanted to take a moment of silence before tomorrow.
Something that’s distinctly mine without the conjecture of anyone else.
If you need the car back, you can take it and I can get a cab home. ”
He leans forward, his voice quiet when he speaks. “It’s not about the damn car, Thea. It’s…” He trails off, piquing my curiosity, but he doesn’t elaborate further.
“How did you find me?” I change the subject, because if he’s wanting to discuss anything related to what happened between the two of us, I’m trying to avoid that elephant.
He smirks then. “It’s easy when you leave your location on.”
“Har-har. You don’t have my location.” I blink at him, unimpressed. “No, but my car does.”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter under my breath, “Of course you’d track its location.”
It’s him who shrugs this time. “In my line of work…” And I hear what he doesn’t say. It's hard to argue with that logic.
“Well, now that you’ve found me. What do you need?” I drain the rest of my glass before setting it back on the counter.
His gaze locks onto mine, something impenetrable in it that has me suddenly squeezing my thighs together. “Now, we talk.”
“So demanding, Mr. Adams.” I stand up but stumble as my head rushes. “Woah.” He chuckles. “Alcohol tolerance not what it used to be?”
Glaring, I straighten and make sure I’m not going to topple over. “I only had two drinks…I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
The bathroom is only meant for one person at a time, so I do what I need to do before washing up and unlocking the door.
As I walk out, my foot catches on the lip of the door and I stumble again, but this time out of sheer clumsiness, and fall right into strong arms. I feel a rush of heat at my back where his arms have wrapped around my waist, my body molded to his perfectly as breath whispers against my ear.
“You really need to watch where you’re going, sugar.
This is the third time this has happened.
” His voice is low and husky in a way that sends shivers down my spine, and also sobers me as I remember I’m supposed to be distancing myself from him.
Pulling out of his grip I lean against the opposite wall, but he follows me, slamming his hands on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.
I don’t miss how close our faces are together when our eyes meet, and any rational thoughts melt away as I note how dilated his pupils are.
His breathing looks as ragged as mine feels and without thinking I surge forward, welding my lips to his as I kiss him without abandon, winding my arms around his neck as I pull him closer.
I feel the moment his own resolve breaks and his hands meet my hips as he presses me deeper into the wall.
He groans into my mouth and I whimper back when one hand drifts down to grip my ass underneath my skirt, coming dangerously close to my center.
But the sound of someone clearing their throat has us breaking apart, the moment shattered and heat spreading to my cheeks in embarrassment as I look at the man who is trying to walk by us to get to the men’s room.
When he passes, Nathan and I just stand there and stare at each other, my lips still tingling with the feel of his lips against mine.
Reality sets in at the knowledge of what I just did. Of the fact I threw my resolve to the wind. “Liquor,” I say finally. “That was the liquor, not me.” A flash of hurt crosses his face before he masks it.
“Only two drinks make you lose your inhibition like that?” He steps back toward me again, bowing his head where his mouth is hovering over my ear. “You can try to lie to yourself, Thea. But you and I both know that the liquor had nothing to do with it.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he’s already striding away, expecting me to follow him so we can have that talk. And it’s then that I realize…
We’re inevitable.