The Grump Who Kissed Me (Valentine’s Midlife Meet Cute #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ruby

The problem with singing into a chrysanthemum at full volume is that strangers assume you’re unhinged.

I’m twirling between bouquets like I’m in my own music video, belting, “Sugar, sugar! Ba-da ba-da bump bump!” when—

“Excuse me!”

I nearly jump out of my skin. A wide-eyed woman in a puffy coat stands in the doorway. She’s a bit older than I am, maybe the other side of fifty. She’s from the city. Her shoes are the giveaway.

I fumble for the volume and turn it down. “Oh, hi there!” I say, smoothing my skirt back into place.

“Sorry to startle you,” she says.

“Oh no, not at all. I was just adjusting my hearing aids.”

That part comes out rehearsed, mostly because it is. It’s easier to explain insanely loud music that way. I pop a finger to each ear and wiggle them like I’m tuning something.

“Oh, I see.” Her whole demeanor shifts and I’m no longer insane, just hard of hearing.

Truth is, I hear just fine. I just can’t stand a quiet, empty shop.

“Are you open?” she asks, checking the sign on the door.

“Yes, of course. I’m just not used to seeing customers.”

“Um…sorry?” she says, retreating and nearly toppling the sunflowers.

Sometimes I have a hard time keeping my thoughts inside my head.

“I mean, this early in the day,” I add, cranking my smile up to megawatt. “How can I help you today?”

I see her inner debate: Leave while I still can, or give this another shot?

“We have a special on a dozen carnations this week,” I say gently, like I’m coaxing a skittish puppy.

“Well, my daughter is getting married, and we need several bouquets plus a few arrangements.”

Music to my ears. A wedding order would cover a month’s expenses. Not the last three months, but it’s a start.

“Here in Silver Pine?” I ask.

“That’s right.”

“Who’s your daughter?”

“I doubt you know her. She’s in the process of moving back after many years.”

“Try me.”

The woman seems put off. City folk prefer getting straight down to business.

“Not from around here, then?”

“Boulder,” she replies, confirming my suspicion. To her credit, she’s trying and failing to keep up with my usual stream of consciousness.

“Wait, is your daughter the woman who’s opening the gallery next door?”

Her brows lift. “Yes, that’s Tessa.”

I spring forward and hug her. “Wow, congrats!” This time, the excitement is real. I’ve only met Tessa briefly, but I just know we’re going to be fast friends.

“Err, thank you,” she says, peeling herself away from my embrace. “I suppose Silver Pine is still the small town I grew up in.”

She must see the avalanche of questions forming behind my eyes because she says, “Wedding.”

“Right!”

I pull out the folder of bridal packages we offer at Oopsie Daisies.

Unlike yours truly, Clara was impossibly organized. There’s a folder for everything. I glance up at the ceiling. “Thanks.”

“What’s that?” she asks, following my gaze.

“Oh, just thanking Clara for being so organized.”

“Who’s Clara?”

“The owner. I’m the manager,” I say.

“Is she upstairs?”

“The eternal upstairs.”

The woman sighs and flips through the book. A vein throbs at her temple. I tend to have that effect on new people. Clara used to say I’m “a lot.” She meant it in the best possible way. I miss her every day.

Tessa’s mother says, “Well, your prices are certainly competitive, and I love these arrangements using indigenous flowers.”

I glow a little. Designing those is all me. “It’s what sets us apart. We specialize in Colorado florals, unless the client wants something more exotic.”

The phone rings, but when I see the number, I let it go to voicemail. Again.

Instead, I head to the worktable and trim stems off a batch of red roses, making a mental note to order more.

With Valentine’s Day coming up, we’ll be ready with roses, arrangements, and balloons.

Not to mention the event of the season. Timberline Inn’s Valentine’s Day cotillion.

The dance will be the highlight of the inn’s soft opening and the whole town is going to be there in support.

Tessa’s mother brings over the folder, asks a few questions, and settles on a generous wedding package. Clara would be thrilled. She leaves a deposit, and I tell her I’ll be in touch with details.

Mrs. Periwinkle strolls in, adjusting her bright red hat. “I’ll be right with you, Mrs. P.!”

I keep my tone cheerful, but all I can think about is the phone call I sent to voicemail.