Chapter Three
Even though today is Friday, it feels like a month of Mondays all rolled into one. I can’t really complain because business is booming. So much so, that I’m actually considering hiring a full-time assistant, at least for the summer rush.
“Pollen in Love,” I say on auto-pilot as I pick up the ringing phone. “Yes, of course. I have time for a consultation today. Two o’clock? Great. See you then.” Definitely time for some help. My best friend, Ellie, stops in when she can, but now that she’s getting married she’s in full wedding planning mode, so I hate to ask.
The bell rings as I hang up the phone, and I half expect to see my mother standing on the other side of the counter dragging a poor, unsuspecting man behind her for my inspection. My mouth drops open when I see a petite blonde with a radiant smile leading a gorgeous, but uncomfortable, looking man behind her.
I recover quickly, but wipe my mouth to clear away any drool that might’ve escaped as I watched this gorgeous man walk through my store.
“Hi, I’m Alyssa,” she greets cheerily, freeing her arm from the man beside her to reach out and shake my hand. “I’m the bride.” She’s practically singing at this point, and her happiness is infectious.
“Nice to meet you, Alyssa. Welcome to Pollen in Love. I’m Libby Bloom.”
“Ironic name for a florist,” Mr. Sexy scoffs. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve heard that.
“Nana married into the name and took it as a sign. She opened the shop and passed it to me.” It’s the elevator version of what is actually the love story of a generation, and the real reason I refuse to settle for one of the many men my mother parades in front of me.
“Sorry about him. This is Theo. He’s the fog.”
“I’m the what?” he grits out, looking around and glaring at the floral arrangements.
“The fog. Friend of the groom,” she says, rolling her eyes affectionately at his ignorance.
“I know it’s last minute, but my boyfriend—oops, wait! My fiance—and I just got engaged a few days ago and snagged a last minute cancellation at the Grotto. Now we’re simply scramblin’ to get everything in order so we can have our dream weddin’,” she sighs dreamily.
“Congratulations, that”s a beautiful venue. How can I help you today?”
“We”re hoping you might be able to squeeze us in. Since the venue is outdoors, we won”t need a ton of flowers, but,” she says, extricating her arm from that of the silent, sexy man at her side to grab her phone. “I was hoping we could get something like this.”
The inspiration photo on her phone is a beautiful chorus of reds and pinks surrounding three large, pillowy white peonies. I nod, mentally running through what inventory I”ll need to make her vision come to life and I”ll have time to do it justice.
“Let me check the calendar real quick,” I say, opening the app. “What date are we looking at?”.
“June seventh,” she says quickly. “It”s going to be perfect. Pete, that”s my fiance, is a math professor and he has a thing about prime numbers,” she explains, that dreamy look returning to her eyes. “He says it”s good luck. So I”m hoping he”s right and everything just comes together like a dream.”
Theo—though I think I like Mr. Sexy better—scoffs again, though it”s almost silent.
“You don’t agree?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him. He has yet to say anything friendly and I do not appreciate his cynicism.
“You can believe whatever you want to believe, darlin’. But it”s not luck. It”s happening because some poor sap got his little heart broken and lost his exorbitant deposit.”
Alyssa and I stare at him open mouthed before gaping at each other, unable to believe his tirade. Suddenly he”s not so attractive.
“Theo Spencer!” Alyssa gasps dramatically, one hand flying up and covering her heart. “I can”t believe you just said that. Go check your sports scores on your phone and leave us to plan everything without your dickishness.”
We watch him shake his head before sauntering off to sit on the small window seat at the front of the shop. I deriving secret glee as he scowls at a sunbeam shining through the clean glass, hitting the prisms and sending hundreds of shimmering rainbows across his body.
“I am so sorry, Libby. Just ignore him,” she begs, leaning on the counter to whisper conspiratorially. “He”s got a few hangups about weddings. He”s only standing in for Pete today because he was promised a bottle of his favorite whiskey.”
“I heard that,” he growls. “And it”s not true.”
“No, I get it. You don”t have to love weddings, but keep your karma out of my shop,” I call back, earning a giggle from Alyssa
“So why did you bring Mr. Grumpy instead of your bridesmaids? Or even your fiance?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
“Pete”s got finals and my bridesmaids all live out of state. I only moved here a little over a year ago for work. Besides,” she says, looking over her shoulder at Theo. “Pete already has a suit, but Theo needs one, and this way we kill two birds with one tiny little stone. And lord knows what he”d end up picking out if I”m not along to point him in the right direction.”
“Mustard yellow with a burgundy stripe,” he drawls, watching us from across the room. And suddenly, I can”t imagine anything sexier than mustard yellow trousers in a pile on the floor.
“I wouldn”t risk looking like a sunflower during an outdoor wedding,” I tease, grinning wickedly as his scowl deepens.
“And why the hell not?” he snaps.
“Bees.”
Alyssa erupts into peals of laughter as his eyes narrow into slits and he glares at me.
“They wouldn”t dare.”
The way he says it, so matter of factly, makes me grin back at him, daring him to say something else.
“Anyway,” Alyssa says, claiming my attention and breaking my silent, intense stare off with Theo. “I like the shades in this, but I was looking online and the peonies come in all shades. What do you think if we did the prettiest little blush pink for the center, then deep red roses?”
I nod, picturing it in my head.
“Then smaller ones for my bridesmaids, and just a single rose boutonniere for the groomsmen. There are seven of each.”
I gasp, making Theo chuckle at my shock.
“I know, I know. But three are my sisters and the other four were in my sorority, so they”re practically family.”
“That”s a lot of moving pieces for such a rapidly approaching wedding,” I muse, mentally flipping through my contacts, wondering how many people would attend my wedding, let alone participate.
“They”ve known for months that Pete and I are endgame,” she says emphatically. “And to make things a little easier, we”re having them pick a black dress in just about any style.”
“That sounds like a good way to make it a little easier on yourself,” I say. “And, because your request isn”t super complicated, I can definitely squeeze you in. I”ll make the arrangements the night before and my assistant can deliver them and set up at the Grotto day of.”
I start entering information into the system to schedule her when she grips my wrist in both of her petite hands, startling me.
“No, Libby. I need you. Not an assistant. I”m sure she”s fantastic, but I need you there. Come to the wedding. Do your setup and everything, but come as our guest. Please?”
I gape at her—seemingly all I”m capable of doing these days—while an internal debate rages inside me.
Be brave, Libby, the devil on one shoulder says. Find a man. Have a little fun for the night.
Be a goddamn professional, the angel on my other shoulder hisses. You have a reputation to uphold.
“Doesn”t really seem like Libby”s thing, darlin”,” Theo drawls, coming to stand beside her.
“Oh, please, Libby?” she pleads, steepling her fingers in a praying gesture. “Please say you”ll come?”
“I— alright,” I concede, shocking myself and, from the looks of it, Theo as well.