Chapter Three
Kimberly flipped the sign on the door of Delicate Petals Flower Shop.
The shop was only open for half a day on Saturday to leave the afternoon open for catching up on orders or planning for the week ahead.
She turned, her patchwork skirt flaring around her legs with the movement and gracefully wove her way around the many rustic tables loaded down with displays in the front lobby.
Immersed in the colorful, fragrant world of flowers, Kimberly was in her happy place.
If it were up to her, she’d work just about every day.
Just the last day and a half at Delicate Petals had healed her spirit and calmed down much of her anxious overthinking.
Here, she could pour herself into crafting beautiful flower arrangements and assisting the owner with all the meaningful work of running the only flower shop in Tolstone.
Margaret Filmore, the owner, had become more of a hands-off proprietor in her old age, and left the operations to a few trusted employees.
For the last year, Kimberly had lived in Tolstone, she had taken on a managerial role, mostly because she and Margaret shared the same passion for floral design.
There were few people in Tolstone who could arrange a bouquet the way Kimberly could.
She had a keen eye for color, and while customers didn’t likely care about the symbolic meaning behind the composition of her designs, Kimberly made every effort to put more thought and consideration into her orders.
In a recent order from an apologetic husband to his wife after a nasty fight, Kimberly was simply told to make it pretty.
She went even further than that. The bulk of the arrangement, white gardenias, was meant to represent love but also peace.
The gardenias were to say, Let’s forgive and forget.
Luckily, this was the right time of year for them to be in bloom.
She threw in a few peace lilies for variety, amongst the complementary sprigs of greenery.
No one would have understood the message, but the arrangement was pretty, and Kimberly wholeheartedly believed that the meaning of flowers did somehow subliminally translate.
Who didn’t feel warm fuzzies when looking at a rose or a bouquet of daisies?
Early in her career at Delicate Petals, Kimberly took the risk and rearranged some of the lobby’s layout and customized her own bouquet and wreath displays to show customers the wide range of possibilities in their orders.
Margaret, who used to be resistant to change, liked Kimberly’s initiative and turned to her for more suggestions.
That was when they opened the door to local vendors to sell their wares in the flower shop as well.
They now had several places around the shop to show off homemade soaps, lotions, teas, soup seasonings, and candles.
All the things that could be included in gift baskets or little extras to add value to an order.
Not only did it boost the revenue of the shop, which took a cut of these sales, but it also gave extra exposure to the crafty people of Tolstone.
A corkboard near their front counter showed off many business cards, including Erica Barrett’s photography business, which Kimberly pinned up the day the future Prime Alpha’s mate came into the shop after she moved to Tolstone months ago.
One of Kimberly’s most recent ideas was that of a build-your-own bouquet station.
While the handcrafted bouquets would always be their bread-and-butter, Kimberly had listened to customers who wanted to add a personal touch to their gifts.
By now, Margaret was ready to say yes to Kimberly for just about anything and agreed to the plan.
The only trouble now was how to execute the idea.
Kimberly decided that a spot close to the checkout counter toward the back of the store would be best, so customers could ask for help or advice from an employee.
That space, however, was occupied. She would need to find a new home for an antique rolltop desk, generously on loan from the Prime Alpha, Dominic Beaumont.
The display space boasted custom-made jewelry on one side and cute tea towels and decorative sign boards with scriptures or sassy farm life references like Live like someone left the gate open or Sometimes you just have to say cluck it.
Kimberly had to figure out where it would all go quickly, because the guy Margaret hired from Ferrin Williams to construct the build-your-own-bouquet station would arrive soon.
She needed the space clear so he could measure, but she also completely intended to move the hulking rolltop desk herself.
A girl of her size wasn’t expected to have that kind of strength.
But as a wolf shifter, she did. She just couldn’t show off that kind of strength in front of humans.
By the time she began to unload the black felted jewelry displays, the shop door opened and the electronic doorbell chimed through the store.
Followed shortly behind its tone came a sputtering cough.
That was a pretty typical reaction from a shifter entering the shop.
With their sensitive, wolf-like sense of smell, the strong aroma of so many flowers and fragrant products was overwhelming for a few seconds.
For Kimberly, who had been immersed in florist work for several years, she was mostly used to it.
“Holy shit.” The man wheezed under his breath.
Two things happened too quickly so that Kimberly’s brain could barely keep up with the input.
The first was the scent that cut through the fragrant air of the flower shop.
Kimberly had become so nose blind to the scents over the years that she could usually pick up the traces of new customers as they came into the store.
This one was familiar. Too familiar and awfully missed.
It was the scent of Shane’s old body wash.
When they were teenagers, Shane switched body washes one day and Kimberly made a point of saying she liked it.
For all the days they had left together, he never smelled any different.
When Kimberly and her family left Warrington, she treasured a hoodie that Shane had given her months prior.
It still smelled like that body wash. When the scent finally faded, Kimberly never missed an opportunity to take a detour to the bath and hygiene aisle at the grocery store.
Her eyes would skim the shelves of the men’s section for his specific brand.
She’d pop the top, take a deep whiff, and remember all the times they snuggled up on her couch while watching a movie or sat close to one another to do homework.
As time went on and the memory of Shane and Warrington became too painful, Kimberly stopped hunting for his body wash.
Sure, she had her moments of weakness and would check for it on occasion.
But one day, she couldn’t find it. Not at that store or at the several others she checked afterward.
She assumed the brand had been discontinued.
The last connection to her past, gone. The scent was nothing more than a memory, like everything else Shane had become.
But here, in Delicate Petals, she smelled that body wash again, and tears stung the corners of her eyes from the sheer joy of experiencing Shane Snyder the way he used to be. Seventeen and all hers.
The second thing that hit her was the voice. It was definitely Shane. But what the fudge sticks was he doing at Delicate Petals?
Kimberly gave herself a mental slap to get a grip, and she rushed toward the front.
Shane stood by the glass door, the sunlight from the big picture windows almost shadowing out his figure.
He was rubbing at his nose and eyes, sniffling and snorting as if he had just walked through a cloud of pollen.
In the other hand, to her absolute dread, was a dusty and well-worn tool bag.
Her shoulders dropped and she gave a huff. “Are you kidding me?”
Shane’s head instantly snapped up, eyes wide as if he just heard a gun go off in front of him. He was just as surprised as she was.
“You work here?” he asked, his gaze skipping to the nametag pinned to her loose-fitted blouse.
Kimberly folded her arms. “Okay, we’re not going through this again. Yes, I work here. Yes, you came to the right store if you’re the guy we hired to make the flower bucket racks. And yes, this is really happening.”
She had thought that after a couple of nights of good rest, several meditative sessions, and a lot of optimistic peptalks, she could have been rid of the fear of running into Shane again.
Tolstone was a small town, but she didn’t think it was this small.
Ferrin had, what, at least a dozen guys working for him? What were the odds?
And if she had bumped into Shane twice just in the last few days, she was thoroughly surprised she hadn’t run into Isaac yet. It was only a matter of time, and that thought was not welcome at all.
Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, I didn’t know you worked here. If I did, I might have … Well, I can’t say I would have tried to get out of the job.”
“Why not? So you could break your word again?” Kimberly popped out one leg, feeling much more confident now that they were on her turf. “You said you’d leave me alone.”
“I know that, and it wouldn’t be about breaking my word to you.” Shane lifted his tool bag. “I need the work because I need the money. You know, to pay back Dominic.”
Kimberly glared at the tool bag, the embodiment of why Shane was here, darkening the door of her floral sanctuary. “Sure. Convenient excuse.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “If this is going to bother you, then maybe you should just call your boss and have someone else fill in. I can wait in the truck while—”
“No one else is available today. Margarett is at her grandson’s birthday party, Helen had a hair appointment, and Jessica’s taking care of a sick kid. I’m stuck with you.”