Chapter 10
Paisley
M y hands aren’t moving fast enough today. It’s the busiest day on the florist calendar, and on top of a twelve-hour day yesterday, Stella, our new girl Gemma, and I have been here since six am making up floral arrangements. I stretch my fingers then pick up the next bucket. Thank the Lord this is the last one, then I need to run deliveries.
There is something so depressing about being a florist on days like this when you know how sad your own romantic life is. All these loved-up guys walking through the door looking for presents for that someone special in their life. And me, I’m going home to eat an entire box of chocolates I bought myself and to drink myself silly. I figure I’ve been so good this week I deserve a drink. Mae and Emerson are both working at the hotel tonight, some corporate thing Gisele organized. So, they’re no good as a distraction, and Gisele is spending her first Valentine’s Day with Brody. Nice for them, but it leaves me alone and with Noah next door, feeling more vulnerable than I would like to admit.
“Just looking for a dozen roses, am I too late?” His deep voice reaches my ears before I catch a glimpse of his face. That voice, I would recognize it anywhere. It makes goosebumps prickle my skin and my heart beat a little faster.
Through the wall of flowers lined up in front of me, I spy on him, continuing to put together the arrangement I’m holding. My stomach flip-flops at the sight of him. Why does he have to be so gorgeous. He grins at Stella, all charm and dimples, and I hate him even more. What the hell is he doing in my shop buying roses?
“No, honey, I can sort you out,” Stella says. “You want red or a pastel bunch?”
He smirks toward her cheekily, forcing me to roll my eyes involuntarily. Why does he have to be so charming with every damn female on the planet. “Maybe the pastels. It’s a first date, don’t want to go over the top.”
“Well, then you shouldn’t be ordering twelve roses,” I mutter under my breath, disgusted that he’s here, that he has a date, that I have to hear about it at my place of work.
“A first date on Valentine’s Day, how romantic,” my boss gushes. She’s swooning all over him. Yeah, we all get it, he’s cute. He’s also an asshole who will take off after making you fall for him and never look back. I feel sorry for the girl he’s going on the first date with. She’s probably imagining happily ever after and all that shit. Not going to happen with Noah. He’s more the love ‘em and leave ‘em broken type.
“Paisley,” Stella calls my name, and I cringe. I was hoping to hide back here until he left. “You done with that bunch you’re making? I have a nice gentleman here who needs a last-minute arrangement.” Her voice is so light and pleasant, I feel even more irritated.
Gripping the flower stems a little tighter than I should, I take a deep breath as I step out from my cozy hiding spot of the flower wall.
He spots me and smirks. He grins like a Cheshire cat, like he was just waiting for me to show my face. “Paisley, didn’t realize you work here.” He’s lying through his teeth.
Irritation crawls over my skin. Bullshit. He’s seen me wear my uniform around the hotel, and I worked here when we were dating. “It’s the only flower shop in town.” I force a smile through clenched teeth as I tie the bunch off with twine, then place it on the counter so I can wrap it.
Stella grips my shoulder. “He’s got a first date tonight, how sweet is that?” she gushes, cutting me two lengths of ribbon, one red and one pale pink.
“More like how disgusting. Who has a first date on such a romantic holiday? It’s a disaster waiting to happen,” I say so he can hear me this time. He’s walked into my flower shop with one thing on his mind today. To piss me off. He has the same plan every damn day. I know it from the smug grin on his face, from the way he’s tousled his hair just the way I like it, and from the way he looks at me with longing I have seen before.
“Paisley,” Stella snaps. The look she gives me implies that I should stop talking immediately. But she doesn’t know who he is to me. If she did, she would be hating on him as well. I’m sure she would light the torches and gather the pitchforks and help me chase him out of town. She spent weeks mopping up my tears. I may have told her about the jerk who broke my heart three years ago, but I didn’t tell her who he was exactly. I couldn’t bring myself to give her all the details. He was just some guy Noah, who gave me the summer dreams are made of then dumped me like a hot potato.
“A florist who doesn’t believe in romance.” He laughs like I was joking, trying to lighten the thick uncomfortable tension in the air that I have created. “So, I take it you will be flying solo tonight. Not a romantic?” the jerk has the audacity to ask me.
My pulse thumps so loud I can hear it in my ears. He’s pushing me too far now. “I have a date,” I lie through my teeth. I’m not letting him have this over me.
“Yeah, with her bathtub and a bottle of wine, like the rest of us who have been up since dawn arranging roses.” My boss laughs, and Noah joins her, the two of them ganging up on me like old friends.
Her light-hearted comment earns her a death stare from me. Doesn’t she realize who this is? She’s had to listen to me bitch and moan about him since he came back to town. Even though I didn’t tell her in as many words, can’t she sense the tension in the air now and put two and two together?
I continue wrapping the bunch, making it as perfect as I would any other, even if there was a little more aggression involved. I fill the wet wrap with water and shove them in his direction. “Have a fun evening.” I fake a smile, making sure it doesn’t reach my eyes. They hold nothing but simmering anger toward him.
“I intend to.” He smirks back, his brow rising, his gorgeousness getting under my skin even more. “Enjoy your relaxing bath.” He winks at me, then his eyes roam down my body leisurely, like he’s imagining me all soaped up. And I hate the way it sends a tingle through my body. Why do I still want him to imagine me naked? There’s something wrong with me.
“I intend to, might even invite Roger to join me.” I bite back because I can’t think of anything better.
He chuckles as he walks out of the shop with so much swagger it makes me sick. But I watch anyway; his ass in those jeans is just too good to look away. Yep, the universe hates me. And on the most romantic day of the year no less.
Stella bumps shoulders with me. “What the hell was that, missy?” she asks, all motherly.
“That was Noah Harrington, the most infuriating human on the planet.”
“Or the sexiest. That man could melt ice. So, your Noah you spent the entire summer screwing is the Noah Harrington. No wonder you’re still hung up on him, honey.” She fans her face like she’s burning up.
“I’m not.” I glare back at her, too tired to deal with this situation today. “I’m taking off with the deliveries.” Collecting the order slips, I speak over my shoulder, needing to escape this place before I start smashing vases. Letting him get to me when it was obviously his intention is just stupid, but I can’t help it. He has this crazy hold over me. And his sexting from last night has my brain all mushy today. Why did he have to come back here? I was coping just fine until he showed up back in town. Now, I’m spiraling out of control faster by the day.
Two hours later, I have the last vase arrangement to deliver. I pull the van into a parking spot in front of the Prescott Media building in Savannah and slide open the side of the van, collecting the large vase of red roses. I walk them through the main foyer to the reception desk, but when I read the card, it’s nameless. Placing the arrangement on the counter, I check the order form. It’s from a Beckett Prescott, but it’s also to him? What the hell? I don’t have it left in me to work this shit out today.
“Um, hi,” I say to the receptionist, so tired I’m close to tears. “I have a delivery for Beckett Prescott.”
“Yes, dear, I will get him,” she tells me, picking up her phone and dialing. “A delivery for you, sir.” She nods, listening along, then disconnects the call. “He’s on his way down now, miss.”
“Oh, great, thanks. I can just leave these with you?” I ask, ready to get out of here.
Her eyes go wide, and she looks worried. “Sorry, no, he wants to see you.” She sounds unsure, and I wonder what she’s talking about. Why does he need to see me?
“Normally, with this type of order, I would just leave it at reception,” I huff, unimpressed and still hoping she will just let me leave it so I can take off.
She shrugs, then goes back to tapping her long nails on her keyboard. Apparently, I have been dismissed. I spin and lean on the reception desk, arms crossed, anxiously checking my watch. I know the shop is in chaos, and I need to return as soon as possible to assist with cleanup so we can all head home at a reasonable hour. I hear my bottle of wine calling my name. And since I mentioned Roger earlier to piss off Noah, I’ve been thinking that might just be a fab idea. Nothing a good orgasm can’t fix, even if I need to use my battery-operated friend to achieve it. I should spend the night sending Noah dirty messages about me and Roger just to fuck with his head like he is mine.
Can’t believe he has a date with some girl. The audacity after telling me I’m his, loud enough for Jake to hear last night. What kind of bullshit is that. He wants to ruin my chances of dating other people, because he was clearly jealous of Jake and me talking last night. But it’s cool for him to rub in my nose that he’s going on a date and buying flowers for some girl. It’s probably Mrs. Rashford’s granddaughter. I saw the way she was presenting her to Noah the other morning. It was sickening.
“Paisley Whittaker?” I glance at the man calling my name as he crosses the lobby. He’s in an expensive suit with short, dark hair and a mischievous smile. I’ve seen him before, in a brawl with my brother and Brody at McAllister’s. He has trouble written all over him. But that doesn’t stop me from checking him out. He looks like he works out; nice shoulders and a gorgeous face, his green eyes have this devilishly charming twinkle to them that I could quite happily get lost in.
I arch my brow and smirk playfully. “Who wants to know?”
He smiles, his eyes lighting up flirtatiously. “Beckett Prescott.” He holds out a hand.
Giving him another once-over, I wonder what he wants from me. I place my hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “What can I do for you, Beckett?”
“It seems I find myself dateless on the most romantic night of the year.”
“How unfortunate. Join the club,” I huff, wondering why the universe keeps throwing this holiday in my face this year.
He runs his eyes down my body, lingering a little too long on my tits before they return to my face. “I’d prefer to take you out.”
The receptionist clears her throat, reminding us she’s still here.
I shove off the desk, closing the gap between us. Beckett’s a bit of a catch, self-proclaimed most eligible bachelor in the Bay. So I’ve heard. Now that I’m up close, I can understand why. He oozes wealth; not that money is everything, but it would make life easier. He’s also attractive; not my usual type, but a more privileged pretty boy. I could make it work. “Aren’t you the guy who started a fight with my brother at McAllister’s last year?” I ask, trying to work out his angle here. Pretty sure he’s not out of dating options.
He smiles, unfazed. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Nah.” I study him, wondering what’s really going on. The thought of Noah having a date tonight and me being home alone drowning my sorrows sounds pretty pathetic. I could do with a date of my own to even the score. And I could certainly do worse than Beckett.
“I’ll pick you up at seven then. I’ll make a reservation at Villa Bella Cucina in Bluewater Beach.”
His boldness makes me laugh. “You won’t get a table at Villa Bella Cucina this late on Valentine’s Day.” That place is owned by Elliot’s brother Trey, and I know for a fact it’s booked up tonight.
“Table’s already booked, kitten; I knew you would say yes,” he says like the cocky prick he is.
Seven could work. It will give me enough time for a nap before I head out. “Guess I could make seven work. I’ve been meaning to test out Villa Bella Cucina, I love Italian food. One question, what about the roses?” I motion to the reason I’m standing in this lobby.
He grins mischievously. “They’re for you. To sweeten the deal.”
“What? Why?” I ask, confused. I’m too tired to make sense of this.
“Check the card,” he says before walking away.
Popping open the card and running my eyes over his message, all it says is Will you be my Valentine? Did he have me bring them all this way downtown just so he could set up a date with me? What the hell! He’s lucky I was even running deliveries. Today just keeps getting odder by the second. But on the plus side, I now have a date. In your face, Noah Harrington. This little blonde chick still has dating game.