Chapter 15
W hen Rosie left for the flower market the next morning, there was no sign of life from Max’s boat.
During the night, she’d listened to the gentle tapping of the rain on the water and fallen asleep thinking of the day they’d spent together.
She’d never imagined he would dance so freely or speak so openly.
A smile grew on her face as she glanced back over her shoulder, but he must still have been asleep or taken Zoon for an early-morning walk.
It was still raining, and she enjoyed the cooler weather after the weeks of heat. The air smelled fresh and earthy, and though the sky was grey, the clouds amassed in heavy, navy-blue banks, she enjoyed it. The wind was picking up too and Rosie quickened her pace.
By the time she arrived at the flower market, the rain was pelting down, puckering the surface of the canal.
All the vendors were watching the sky, chatting about the storm everyone knew was to come.
Bas had just arrived with her flowers when there was an almighty flash of lightning.
A huge rumble of thunder seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet, and the rain increased in intensity, hitting the canal with such force that the water jumped back up.
Bas took shelter with them. There was no point trying to deliver flowers in this weather.
The incessant rain would damage the delicate petals and ruin them before they made it inside.
Unsurprisingly, the tourists had stayed away, and the market was as quiet as the grave.
This was not what Rosie was hoping for today.
Inspired by the sights she’d seen with Max, from the canal house garden to the Milkshake Festival, and the beauty of the Amsterdam skyline, she wanted to make bouquets and arrangements.
She’d have to reduce the price of her stock, too, which meant less profit, something she couldn’t really afford.
But some of the flowers were going past their best and needed a home as soon as possible.
She began marking them up, ready for opening.
Emma came over, offering Bas a cup of tea. He said thank you and followed it with something else in Dutch Rosie couldn’t make out.
‘What did he say?’ she asked Emma.
‘He said, he needs to get on with his deliveries here at the market. He can’t stand here all day, or he’ll end up late for everyone, but he’s worried about the flowers. We need to protect them.’
‘Will this do?’ She picked up the umbrella she’d used that morning. It was one of her dad’s golfing umbrellas– ridiculously wide, enough to protect three people. Bas grinned widely at Rosie and nodded. ‘Come on, then.’
They made their way to the van and before long, everyone was helping.
Everyone except Finn. He stood by his pitch, watching them work with his arms folded over his chest. With a wave of his hand and a harsh word he sent a few of his staff to retrieve his flowers, which was something, Rosie supposed, but not quite the coming together everyone else was doing.
Rosie felt sorry for his employees. She might not be the most successful florist in the world but at least she was her own boss.
She’d worked for people like Finn before; bullies who loved having power over others.
No wonder no one in the market liked him.
As the last of the flowers were unloaded, Bas hugged Rosie. ‘ Bedankt , Rosie! Bedankt .’
‘You’re welcome, Bas. Have a good day!’
‘Have a good day,’ he repeated in staccato English.
‘Thanks for helping,’ she said to Emma. ‘And you too, Noah.’
Despite Emma’s dismal attempts at flirting at the Milkshake Festival, Noah was still clearly keen and was lingering around after everyone had gone. Emma turned to him.
‘We needed your big strong muscles, didn’t we?’ She grabbed his bicep, squeezing it.
‘Ow!’
Emma immediately let go as Noah, eyes wide in surprise, r ubbed his bicep. ‘I’ll see you later, Emma. I– I better go. Bye, Rosie.’
She waved as Emma turned her back on him and buried her head in her hands.
‘Really?’ Rosie asked as Emma peeked at her through her fingers, a grin pulling at her mouth.
‘Don’t! I just keep opening my mouth and this– this rubbish comes out. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never been like this with a guy before. No wonder he hasn’t asked me out again.’
‘You only saw him yesterday; give him a chance. And you didn’t see the way he glanced over his shoulder at you.’
‘He did?’ Emma asked, her voice rising with hope.
‘He did. And he had a cheeky grin on his face. He might not have liked the terrifying death grip on his bicep—’ Emma groaned. ‘But he likes you. Definitely.’
‘He won’t if I keep going on like that.’
‘You just need to flirt more subtly.’
‘I don’t know how to do that.’
‘Well, I’d suggest drawing attention to you rather than grabbing at him. Touch your lips and see if his eyes follow. Flick your hair back and tilt your head.’
Emma shook her head in wonder. ‘How much experience have you had at this?’
‘Too much,’ Rosie replied. ‘No matter how many frogs I kiss, I haven’t found my prince yet.’
‘What about Max? If all frogs looked like him, I’d be happy to kiss them.’
Rosie sighed, thinking of her offer for him to come with her today and his refusal.
‘I just don’t know where I stand with him.
One minute he’s flirty and fun, the next he’s pulling back.
’ She told her about Johanna and the conversation she’d overheard, but didn’t mention about his creative block.
For some reason, she just knew he’d want to keep that private, and as much as she loved Emma and their new friendship, it didn’t feel right to share something so personal yet.
‘It’s... confusing,’ Rosie finished with a dramatic shrug.
‘Men are very confusing,’ Emma agreed. ‘And I might be bad at reading them, but I know that that—’ she pointed, and Rosie gasped as she followed Emma’s finger ‘—is a good sign and not at all confusing.’
Rosie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Max, looking gorgeously rumpled, his hair slicked down from the rain like some kind of 1950s Hollywood star, was striding towards her. Zoon, in a cute rain jacket, trotted along at his heels.
‘Oh. My. God,’ Rosie whispered.
Was Johanna’s hold over him as strong as she’d thought?
Or was he here for something else? Was he here for her but as a cheap replacement, just a rebound?
Someone to pass the time with while his heart healed?
Was she really just his too cheerful English neighbour?
Whatever she was, she couldn’t resist the way her heart pounded faster, matching his stride.
Emma grinned. ‘Hi, Max.’
He smiled widely as he approached. ‘Emma, wasn’t it? How are you? Did you have fun at the festival? I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.’
‘That’s okay. It was our fault for running off.’
‘I’ve just seen Noah, actually. I think I’m going to have to stop by his stall on the way home and grab some of his delicious cheese.’
‘Don’t forget I have a gorgeous selection of breads and meats that’ll go perfectly.’
Max chuckled. ‘I won’t.’
Emma left, winking at Rosie as she went.
‘Hi,’ Max said, sounding almost shy.
‘Hi.’ After a second, she gathered herself. ‘You came.’
‘It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.’
Zoon barked.
‘And you brought this little guy too!’ She reached down and scratched him behind his ears. His tail began wagging so furiously his whole body shimmied from side to side.
‘So,’ said Max. ‘What’re you doing today?’
‘Well, it kind of depends on the weather. Do you think this rain will last all day?’
‘There’s no sign of it stopping anytime soon. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘In that case.’ Rosie turned and stared at her flowers, her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll have to mark down some of these flowers to try and shift them or they won’t be worth buying.’
‘These are beautiful,’ he said, picking up a particularly lovely rose.
‘They’re one of my favourite flowers.’
‘Do you mind if I sketch it, and maybe these too—’ He dropped Zoon’s lead and moved to a large tub of anemones.
‘Of course not.’ She was thrilled to see him pull out a small sketchbook and stubby pencil, making marks on the paper. She took Zoon’s lead and placed the handle under the leg of her stool so he could move around but not run off. He sniffed the different tubs, enjoying the unfamiliar smells.
Rosie began to sort her delivery, marking down her flowers and putting them in a bucket out front with a ‘sale’ sign stuck on.
Now the market was open, a few customers who’d taken shelter from the rain perused the shops, admiring the myriad bright blooms before stopping at her stall.
Gratefully, she handed over a large bunch of lilies she’d just reduced to a customer and thanked them for giving them a good home when Finn marched over.
He spoke– well, shouted– in Dutch.
Rosie felt heat climb up her spine, tingling the back of her neck.
He was so angry she felt almost intimidated.
Max stepped forwards, into her peripheral vision, and she was glad to know he was there.
The other shopkeepers were watching and, she hoped, would intervene if Finn continued but first, she’d do her best to defuse the situation.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said calmly, holding up her hands for him to stop. ‘I don’t—’
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He pointed at the flower tub she’d placed out front.
Had she put them in the walkway or something? Was she breaking some kind of health and safety code she hadn’t been aware of?
She stared at them, then him, wondering what he could be talking about. ‘I’m just reducing the price on them.’
‘You’re trying to undercut me.’
‘I am not!’ she exclaimed.
Max stepped forwards, his frown firmly back in place as he scowled at Finn. His hand gently touched her lower back protectively. ‘What’s going on?’