Chapter 3
Darby
A chalkboard of daily drink specials sits in front of the hostess stand advertising half-priced Tecate and five dollar margaritas.
Strings of papel picado sag from the ceiling in colorful loops.
Servers weave between tables with trays balanced on one hand, cast iron plates sizzling with the distinct scent of grilled onions and citrus.
By the time we’re escorted to a table, I’m ravenous. I slide into the booth beside Maggie who’s already snatched the drink card from the placeholder. The hostess slides a stack of laminated menus across the table.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” she says as another woman delivers baskets of chips, fresh salsa, and individual bowls to the table.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Maggie announces. “If it has salt on the rim, it counts as hydration.”
Gabby snorts. “That’s not how science works.”
“Science is flexible,” Maggie counters.
Kari drops into the booth next to me. “I cannot believe you flirted with my client.”
I blink. “I absolutely did not flirt.”
Lola chokes on her water. Gabby pats her gently on the back as she sputters. “Oh, Honey.”
Maggie grins, still engrossed in the drink menu. “You flirted.”
“I asked horticulture-based questions,” I argue.
“You asked him how many roses equals sex,” Kari says, her voice a little higher than usual.
I lift a finger. “I rest my case. Very educational and extremely responsible.”
“We can’t take you anywhere,” Gabby mutters.
“I know, right?” I beam. “You’re all so lucky to have me, otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind.”
Lola rests her chin in her palm. “He was cute, though.”
Kari’s mouth twitches despite herself. “He was.”
She nudges me. Her way of calling a truce, though our friendship and her job was never in danger. If I’d thought for a minute she’d lose the account with Green with Envy over a little flirtatious question, I would have kept my trap shut.
“Correction,” Maggie says as she passes the drink menu to Lola. “He was hot, but if anyone tells Wade I said that, I will flat out deny it.”
We all laugh. My friends are loyal to their significant others, but it doesn’t mean they don’t admire the scenery.
“And a little stiff.” Her cheeks turn beet red. “I didn’t mean… I mean, he was a little firm… in his delivery. For crying out loud. You guys,” she finally says, frustrated.
We’re all giggling with laughter by the time she stops talking to take a sip of water.
“I think the words you're looking for are hot plant daddy,” Rumer snickers.
Kari groans. “Do not call him that. I’ll never be able to look at him the same.”
“Too late,” Lola says. “I think it suits him, don’t you Darbs?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I pretend to study the salsa options while my brain replays the way Greg reacted when I pushed his buttons. Like he expected it and was entirely too aware of every word I said.
I grab a tortilla chip from the basket and stuff it in my mouth, giving me time to think before I speak. Something I’m not typically known for. Flirting is easy for me. It’s muscle memory. I banter with baristas, bartenders, and cashiers because it’s fun and harmless.
But I’m not entirely sure flirting with Greg was the same. Fun, yes. Harmless, I’m not so sure.
“Darbs,” Lola says, narrowing her eyes. “What is that look?”
“What look?” I bat my eyes innocently.
“The one where you pretend you’re listening, but your soul is somewhere else,” Kari says.
“Oh, my soul is definitely right here.” I grab another chip and stuff it in my mouth, mumbling as I chew. “With queso.”
“Sure it is,” Gabby raises an eyebrow.
But before the inquisition can get underway, the server arrives to take our drink orders. It’s margaritas all around, except for Kari. She mentions saving her alcohol ration for the wine and charcuterie board she and Grey plan on making tonight.
It flips a switch inside me, reminding me of the domestic bliss they all enjoy and I’m missing out on. I love them all, but as I sit among them with their engagement rings, wedding bands and glowing faces, that feeling of being left out tightens my chest.
I take a long sip when my drink arrives, letting the tartness bite my tongue, and focus on the restaurant noise instead. I’m fine. Really. I’m not that lonely. Mostly.
“He was into you,” Maggie says unexpectedly.
I choke on my drink. “What?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Lola adds.
“He gave you his number,” Rumer says. “That should tell you something.”
“That was for plant emergencies,” I wave a hand as if it were nothing and take another sip of my drink.
“Was it though?” Kari nudges me.
I open my mouth to protest and then close it again, because no matter what I say, they’ll prove me wrong. Or right. Oh, heck. I don’t know if Greg’s interested or was just being polite.
“Did anyone else get his number?” Maggie searches through her purse like she’s on a mission. She pulls out the plant care instructions and flips the paper back and forth. “Nope, not on mine. How about you, Lola? Anything?”
“Oh, babe, Logan would throttle any man with enough gall to give me their number.” She grabs a chip from the basket. “Gotta love a protective man.”
“Cheers to that,” Rumer says, and we all clink glasses.
“So,” Kari nudges me. “Are you going to call him?”
Everyone watches me expectantly. An uncomfortable knot forms in my stomach.
Not because they’re putting me on the spot, but what if Greg doesn’t want to hear from me?
What if he was just being polite? And if he isn’t interested, I’ll have to admit that to these women I love.
They’ll be supportive and sympathetic, full of well-meaning encouragement.
But I don’t want pity. I just want to belong. To still be part of the group, in on the private jokes, and be excited about dinner plans and outings that aren’t first dates.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, not wanting to jinx the what ifs and maybes.
Greg
I’ve spent the last few hours fiddling over the hybrid rose, scribbling readings in my notebook. The greenhouse door opens and closes, but not a footstep to be heard. I finally look up and catch my brother, Ace, shaking his head.
“Surprised you haven’t built a bubble around that thing,” he says, amused.
“Not a bad idea,” I mutter without seriously considering something so ludicrous. Yet it would save me from worrying about customers wandering where they shouldn’t.
Ace steps closer. His brow furrows as he nods. “I hear customers are the most dangerous species on the planet.”
I ignore him, and dust soil from my palms. “What do you want, Ace? It can’t be stimulating conversation.”
“Ordering roses for Sadie. Only the best for my girl.” He chuckles, “you do remember Valentine’s Day is a week away?”
“I remember,” I grumble. Hard to forget when the showroom is decked out floor to ceiling in everything Cupid. “Daisy can help you inside. I’m kinda busy here.”
Ace shifts his weight and leans against a display. “Still working on your little project?”
Blame it on the weather, my frustration, or that I’m not in the mood for small talk, but his condescending tone strikes a nerve.
“It’s not a little project. It’s business.
” I narrow my eyes as irritation really takes hold.
“Did I call your idea to branch out into outdoor lighting a little project? No. I backed you. Encouraged you. Hell, I helped you run cables through frozen ground at three in the morning while you got the damn business off the ground.”
“Whoa. No disrespect. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He lifts both hands. “What you’re doing is cool. A little nerdy, but cool.”
I stare at him and shake my head. “You done?”
“Not even close.” He shrugs and grins, entirely unrepentant. “What’s the problem?”
The short answer—a woman.
The answer pops to the forefront so quickly, it takes a minute to put my thoughts in order. I let my guard down with Darby. She came in looking for a challenge and I fell right into her trap.
And enjoyed every damn second of it.
I shove the thought aside, uninterested in a Kumbaya moment, spilling my guts to Ace. So, I give him the longer answer. “I’ve done everything I can think of, but I can’t coax any blooms out of it.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Ace says. “Have you talked to Dad? Checked the internet?”
“Yes, dumb ass.”
“Just trying to help, bro.” He throws his hands up again. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
The greenhouse doors slide open behind him, letting in a draft of cold air. My attention shifts. I recognize her in a heartbeat even with her face concealed behind the rough-looking plant.
She carries the pot with both arms, cradling it to her body like it’s protection. Or maybe it’s just heavy. I run a hand along my neck and massage the taut muscles.
Ace follows my line of sight and huffs a quiet laugh. “Looks like the rose bush isn’t your biggest problem.”
Darby tilts her head. I barely get a peek at her fiery eyes, and I’m already moving. She’s either on the war path or sure to knock into something at this pace.
I slip past Ace. He stops me with a clap on the shoulder. “I’d stick around and watch the fireworks, but I don’t think you’re going to win this round.”
I scowl at him for half a second, then refocus on Darby.
My heart does a little fist bump against my chest, and though I wouldn’t admit it aloud, she’s a welcome distraction.
She’s all I’ve thought about for the last few days, and that alone irritates me.
The trouble with a woman like Darby isn’t that she’s impulsive and headstrong.
It’s that she’s gotten in my head and under my skin.
Time to nip my fascination with her in the bud.