Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Amber
The bride—a sweet but incredibly indecisive woman named Clara—has been here since seven o’clock.
“No, not the white hydrangeas,” Clara says for the third time, pacing the small aisle. “They’re too… bridal. I want something more rustic. But not too rustic. You know?”
“I know,” I assure her, my smile feeling tight and stretched across my face. “What if we mix in some of the silver dollar eucalyptus? It adds that nice silvery gray tone without being too farm-heavy.”
She bites her lip, staring at the arrangement on the counter. “Maybe. But what about the succulents? Are they too trendy? My mother says succulents are a 2018 trend.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I know who it is. I ignore it, trying to focus on the woman in front of me.
The buzzing stops, then starts again a moment later.
“Do you mind if I grab that?” I ask Clara.
“Oh, of course! Go ahead.” She waves a hand dismissively.
I step into the back room, exhaling a breath that feels like I’ve been holding it for three hours. I swipe the screen.
“Norah? Hey.”
“Amber?” Norah’s tone is half-concerned, half-amused. “Are you still at the shop? Jude said he drove past and the lights were on.”
“Yeah. I’m still here. Clara is… having a hard time committing.”
“It’s almost ten, Amber,” she says. “Do you want me to send Jude and Ryker over? They can come close up for you so you can get home.”
I look through the doorway at Clara, who is currently sniffing a bouquet of dried lavender. “No, it’s okay. I’m almost done. I think we’re finally narrowing it down to the original choice she made three hours ago.”
“Are you sure? Because they are literally putting on their shoes right now.”
“I’m sure. I don’t want to drag them out in the cold.”
“Okay. But call me if you change your mind.” She pauses. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little tired,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “But I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“Okay, babe. Do you want to say goodnight to Maisie? She’s still up, waiting for you.”
“Please.”
There’s a rustling sound, then a small, familiar voice on the line. “Mommy?”
“Hey, bug. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I was waiting for you. Jude said you’re fighting flowers.”
I laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in my shoulders. “Something like that. I’m almost done, I promise. Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes. And I put Frida on my pillow.”
“Good girl. Go to sleep now, okay? I’ll be there soon to kiss your forehead.”
“Okay. Love you, Mommy.”
“Love you too, Maisie.”
I hang up and shove the phone back into my pocket. I paste the smile back on my face and walk back out to the floor.
As I suspected, my client still hasn’t made a decision. After what feels like hours, I finally give in. There’s no way we can keep doing this.
“Okay, Clara,” I say. “Why don’t you sleep on it? I can hold these samples for you until tomorrow morning.”
She looks relieved. “Would you? That would be amazing. I’m just so tired, my brain isn’t working right.”
“It’s no problem. Go home, get some rest.”
Finally, she leaves. The lock clicks shut behind her at 11:30 p.m.
I sag against the door, a groan escaping my lips. The shop is a disaster. There are stems and clippings all over the floor. Water is spilled on the counter. Vases are strewn about like casualties of war.
“Shit.”
I pull my phone out. I missed the date. The dinner. The chocolate tarts. I haven’t texted him all evening.
Amber: I am so, so sorry. I got stuck with a nightmare client and just got free. I missed everything. I’m so sorry.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the typing bubbles to appear. Nothing. He’s probably asleep. Or annoyed. Or both.
I shove the phone away. I can’t deal with the guilt right now. I need to clean up this mess before I can even think about going home.
I start gathering the rejected bouquets—roses, hydrangeas, eucalyptus—they all need to go back into the cold room or they’ll wilt by morning.
I make trip after trip, my feet aching, my back screaming. The cold room is frigid, blasting me with arctic air every time I open the heavy door. I’m shivering by the time I make the final trip, balancing three vases in my arms.
I’m setting them on the metal shelf when I hear it.
Knock, knock, knock.
My heart leaps into my throat. Who is here at midnight? The lights are on, so maybe it’s the police checking on the open business? Or—
I hurry out of the cold room, closing the door behind me. I walk to the front door and peer through the glass.
Eli.
He’s standing on the other side of the glass, his breath puffing in the cold air. He’s wearing a heavy wool coat over a dark sweater and jeans, a beanie pulled low over his ears. And he’s smiling.
A wave of relief washes over me so strong it makes my knees weak. I unlock the door and swing it open.
“Eli? What are you doing here?”
“Hey,” he says. He steps inside, bringing a blast of cold air and the scent of winter. He’s holding a takeout cup in one hand and a greasy paper bag in the other. He hands me the cup. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream.”
I take it, the warmth seeping into my frozen fingers immediately. “You didn’t have to come by. It’s midnight.”
“You didn’t text me all evening,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact but his eyes soft. “I got worried. I figured something happened. I saw your text but I was already on my way here.”
“I’m so sorry about tonight,” I say, feeling terrible all over again. “I had a bride who just… she couldn’t decide. She missed her appointment and came in late. Then she was here for four and a half hours, Eli. Four and a half.”
He winces sympathetically. “Ouch. That sounds brutal.”
“It was.” I sip the hot chocolate; it’s rich and decadent, exactly what I need. “I just finished cleaning up the floor. I still have to put the returns away.”
“Have you eaten?” he asks, lifting the paper bag.
My stomach growls loudly in response. “Not since lunch.”
“Good.” He opens the bag and the smell of fries and grease hits me—mouth-watering and comforting. “I brought supplies. One beef burger, one chicken burger, and a large order of fries. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.”
“Elijah, you really didn’t have to,” I say, my eyes stinging. This is too much. It’s too sweet. I don’t know how to handle this kind of care without feeling unworthy of it.
“I don’t mind,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. He smiles, that crooked, charming smile. “And besides, you can’t exactly enjoy the chocolate tarts on an empty stomach. You need a base layer of grease first.”
I laugh, a wet, shaky sound. I set the hot chocolate down on the counter and take the bag from him. “Okay. Thank you. Seriously. Let me just finish putting these flowers in the cold room, and then we can eat. It’ll take me ten minutes.”
I turn to grab a vase of white roses, but Eli stops me. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”
The endearment hits me in the chest, tightening my stomach in the best possible way. It’s not condescending. It’s warm. Possessive, but gentle.
“I have to put these away,” I explain, gesturing to the mess of blooms. “If they sit out here all night, they’ll wilt. The humidity… well, it ruins the petals.”
He looks around the shop, then back at me. He peels off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll do it. You eat.”
“No, you’re the guest. You’re not here to work.”
“I insist,” he says, stepping closer. He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers are warm, his touch grounding. “You’re exhausted, Amber. I can see it in your eyes. Please. Let me help.”
I want to argue. I want to be the capable, independent woman who doesn’t need saving. But the truth is, I’m tired. I’m so tired I can barely think straight.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
“Good.” He leans in and kisses me. It’s a soft kiss that tastes of cold air and mint. He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m left dizzy, my lips tingling. “Now, direct me, baby. Put me to work.”
He walks over to the rack behind the counter, scanning the array of canvas aprons hanging there. Most of them are pastel—soft pinks, baby blues, sage greens—and emblazoned with the shop’s logo, a delicate vine of ivy.
He selects a pink one, of course. He slips it over his head and ties the strings around his waist, the fabric straining slightly against his broad shoulders.
I try to stifle a giggle, but it escapes anyway. “You look ridiculous.”
“I look professional,” he counters, adjusting the neck strap. “And ready for duty. Where do you want me, boss?”
I take a bite of the chicken burger. The breading is crispy, the meat juicy, and a ripple of gratitude goes through me. I didn’t realize how starving I was until the food hits my tongue.
“Okay,” I say around a mouthful, pointing toward the piles of greenery on the workbench. “Start with the eucalyptus. Those need to go into the big bucket in the cooler, second shelf on the left. They need to be in water immediately or the leaves will curl.”
“You got it.” He picks up the bundles, his movements efficient. “How’s the burger?”
“Heavenly,” I moan. “Seriously, Eli. You’re a saint.”
“I’m just a guy who knows what it’s like to be hangry.” He balances the buckets easily. “We’ve been slammed at the restaurant. The winter storm kept everyone inside, and now that it’s cleared, they’re all flooding out. Knox is in a perpetual state of stress about the inventory.”
I watch him disappear into the cold room, the door swinging shut behind him. When he comes back out, his glasses are fogged up from the temperature change. He pulls them off and wipes them on the front of the pink apron, squinting slightly.
“Knox sounds… intense,” I note, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.
“He is,” Eli agrees, grabbing the piles of discarded rose stems. “But he’s a genius. He just forgets that we’re human sometimes. We’ve been talking about hiring some help. A prep cook, maybe a dishwasher. It would free us up to actually… you know, live.”