Flowers on Main (23 page)

Jake bought two cups of coffee and two raspberry croissants at Sally’s, then settled behind the wheel of his truck to wait for Bree to show up at her shop on Saturday morning. Humble pie might have been more appropriate, but it wasn’t on Sally’s menu.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had brought him over here at the crack of dawn. Oh, he knew he owed Bree an apology, but it could have waited until the next time they crossed paths. Nor was it Mack’s reminder that Bree was a client. That was the least of his concerns.

No, he was pretty sure he was here because the shock and dismay in her eyes the evening before had eaten away at him all night. The two of them might have issues—a ton of them, in fact—but they were private. He’d had no right to so much as hint at them in front of half the town.

In any other city, the scene might have been forgotten an hour after it happened, but it was evident from the silence that had fallen when he’d walked into Sally’s earlier that it wasn’t going to be quickly forgotten here. Even the usually amiable Sally had been surprisingly caustic with him this morning. Though she hadn’t mentioned the incident, it was plain to him she’d heard about it and didn’t approve of his behavior. Heck, he’d almost wound up apologizing to
her,
sure proof that he owed Bree an apology.

Lost in self-loathing, he almost missed Bree’s arrival. She was already unlocking the shop’s door when he noticed her. Evidently she’d been caught up in her own thoughts, as well, because she was clearly startled when he slammed the door of his truck and crossed the sidewalk to follow her inside. She immediately scowled at him.

“You!” she said, not sounding especially pleased to see him.

He held up the bag with the croissants and set the extra-large disposable cup of coffee on the counter. “I’ve come with a peace offering,” he said.

She opened the bag, peered inside, sniffed deeply, then frowned at him. “It’s going to take more than this,” she said, even though she immediately removed one of the croissants, broke off a bite-size piece and popped it into her mouth. Her expression turned rapturous in a way that reminded him all too vividly of other ways he’d pleased her back when it had taken little more than a light caress to elicit a sweet moan of pleasure.

“I realize this is just a start,” he said. “Mack’s had his say. Sally’s ticked at me. Half the customers at the café were looking at me as if I’m lower than pond scum. I’m sure if my sister had seen me this morning, she would have punched me on your behalf.”

“Was there an apology in there somewhere?” she inquired, studying him with mild curiosity.

“Sorry,” he said solemnly. “Really, really sorry for causing a scene.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, apparently reading between the lines. “But not for what you said?”

He winced at being caught. “I can’t take back all of it.”

To his surprise, she nodded. “Believe it or not, I actually get that. I hurt you, Jake. I didn’t mean to, but I know I did. I understand you want payback.”

She regarded him solemnly with those big blue eyes that had always made his knees go weak.

“That’s not it,” he said defensively. Revenge wasn’t what he wanted. At least he didn’t think it was. He wanted to have that entire time exorcised from his memory. He wanted his life to be what it had been before she’d broken his heart.

She ate another bite of the croissant, licked the raspberry
filling from her lips with the tip of her tongue, then sipped her coffee, her gaze on him. “Then what do you want?” she asked eventually.

“To be honest, that’s gotten a little muddy lately.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I want,” she said, her directness a surprise. “I want to sit down with you and talk the way we used to. I want us to be friends again.”

Jake was shaking his head before the words were out of her mouth. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Because you’re still angry,” she said. “If we talked, though, put it all out there, maybe tried to see each other’s points of view, don’t you think we could move on, get back the friendship at least?”

She was offering him an opening, a chance, something he’d once thought he wanted, but now he realized it wasn’t enough. How ironic was that? Not ten seconds ago he’d all but told her he didn’t want her in his life at all and now here he was admitting to himself he wanted everything they’d once had. Was he insane? Would he really be willing to risk going through that much pain for a second time? As committed as she seemed to be to this new business of hers, he still didn’t buy the idea that she’d stay here permanently. Writing was in her blood. Knowing that, only a fool would take another chance with her.

“I have to get to work,” he said, backing toward the door. “I wanted you to know I was sorry about last night. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”

In fact, he resolved on the spot that someone else would make the deliveries to Flowers on Main from here on out. Better not to take any chances, even if he could still hear Bree’s dare echoing in his head. Let her think of him as a coward. It was better than getting pulled in any deeper.

She gave him a knowing look, as if she’d just read his mind. “See you,” she said casually. “Thanks for the croissant and the coffee.”

“Good luck today. Connie will be in touch on Monday to see how things went.”

“Connie?” she queried, one brow lifted. “Not you?”

“Not me,” he confirmed. Let her make whatever she wanted out of that, he thought as he let the door close behind him, then climbed into his truck. He exercised massive restraint in not squealing out of the parking place to get as far away from Bree as he could as quickly as possible.

Which gave him plenty of time to notice her standing in the doorway watching him, her expression sad, her hand lifting, then falling back to her side in an aborted wave. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to escape, he might also have noticed his heart breaking all over again.

After the totally frustrating encounter with Jake, Bree’s mood was dark as she readied the shop for opening. Abby and Jess had helped her clean up after the party the night before, but she still had a few new flower arrangements to finish and buckets filled with colorful bouquets to sit outside. Thankfully the early-September weather was cool enough to do that. She had a feeling those cheerful flowers were going to be her bestsellers, less expensive than a formal arrangement, but ready to pop into a vase to brighten a cottage for the weekend.

By nine o’clock everything was in place, she’d experimented with her cash register until she could work it easily, and even run through a trial credit-card purchase to make sure she had the hang of that. She ate the last bite of the croissant Jake had brought, finished the coffee, took one last look around and then hung the Open sign on the door.

Her first customer walked in at 9:01 a.m., already bearing an armload of the bouquets from the sidewalk display.

“These are gorgeous,” she told Bree as she whipped out her credit card. “And I can’t tell you how excited I was when I spotted your shop last night as I drove into town. I have a houseful of company arriving at noon and these will add just the right festive touch to the dining-room table and to their rooms.”

“I’m so glad,” Bree said as she rang up the purchase. “I hope to see you again.”

“You can count on it. I think fresh flowers are the easiest way in the world to bring a house alive after being away. I’m Liz Patrick, by the way. My husband and I bought the cutest summer cottage two years ago. It was one of the original houses in town. We’re weekenders for now, though we’ve been talking about retiring down here in a few more years.”

Bree introduced herself.

The woman’s eyes immediately lit with recognition. “Your father’s the architect who designed the town, isn’t he? Please tell him how much we love our house. Every little detail in it is charming. It’s everybody’s fantasy of what a seaside cottage should be.”

Bree nodded. “I’ll certainly let him know. He built everything in here, as well.”

“Well, we’re big admirers of his work,” Liz said. “We waited for three years before one of his houses finally came on the market, and we’re so happy we did. Now, I’d better run if I expect to beat the mob scene at the grocery store.”

“Goodbye, Liz. It was nice to meet you.”

After she’d gone, Bree looked at the credit-card slip in amazement. Her very first sale and it had been a good one. Before she could blink, though, she’d had her second sale and then a third.

By noon the buckets of flowers out front were mostly empty, and even four of her more lavish arrangements had been sold. She was flipping the pages of her receipt book when Mick and Megan walked in.

“Was it a good morning?” her mother asked.

“It was a fantastic morning,” Bree reported. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first day. I’m almost out of flowers and the day’s barely half over.” She grinned at her father. “I’ve had almost as many compliments on the interior of the shop as I’ve had on the flowers. People were asking me to pass along the name of my contractor.”

“Maybe for the right price…” Mick joked.

“Carpentry would be quite a comedown from what you’re used to,” Megan noted.

Mick gave her an odd look. “It’s how I started,” he reminded her. “There’s nothing wrong with carpentry.”

“I just meant you’d never be satisfied building the occasional custom cabinet after building entire communities,” Megan replied.

Mick leveled a look at her. “You never know.”

Bree decided to step in before they got into an argument about her father’s priorities and work habits. “I’m just grateful you did all this for me. So, what have the two of you been up to today?”

“Since my first trips back were so quick, Mick’s been taking me on a tour of the town to see all the changes that have come about since I left,” Megan reported. “The downtown area has certainly expanded. There are several new restaurants I’m dying to try.”

“Speaking of which, we came by to see if you’d like us to bring you some lunch,” Mick said. “We’re thinking of trying the little French place on Shore Road if it’s not too busy.”

“I saw their menu when I walked past it the other day. I’d love a slice of their quiche and a Caesar salad,” Bree said at once. “It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to get away for lunch. From now on I’ll have to bring something with me.” She grinned at her father. “Or will you be providing this delivery service daily?”

“Oh, I’ll be around for the foreseeable future. All you have to do is call my cell and I’ll pick up whatever you want.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Or you could call an order into Sally’s, then close long enough to run over to pick it up.”

Bree immediately shook her head. “It’ll be better to bring something from home.”

Mick’s gaze narrowed. He turned to Megan. “Told you so.”

“Told her what?” Bree demanded.

“That something happened there the other day.”

“It’s not important, Dad. Besides, I don’t like the idea of locking the door and walking away during business hours, not even for a few minutes.” She was proud of herself for thinking of the perfect excuse to throw him off the scent. This wasn’t about Jake, and she didn’t want him thinking it was.

“Everyone in town shuts down to run an errand,” he argued.

“And I’ve heard people complaining about it for years. Nothing’s more frustrating than making a quick trip to grab something from a shop only to find a sign on the door saying they’re closed for fifteen minutes or a half hour or whatever. Who knows when that time started or when it’ll end? Most potential customers go away and don’t come back. They don’t waste their time waiting around.”

“She’s right,” Megan confirmed.

“Okay, you win,” Mick said. “You two are the shoppers, not me.”

Bree was relieved that she’d managed to steer the conver
sation away from Sally’s and her abrupt departure from the café earlier in the week. Unfortunately, it seemed her father hadn’t forgotten it.

“As long as you’re not avoiding Sally’s because of Jake,” he said pointedly.

“Of course not,” Bree said hurriedly, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“Why do you think Jake’s involved?” Megan asked, her gaze shifting from Mick to Bree and back again. “Does this have anything to do with—”

Bree cut her off. She didn’t want her mother mentioning last night’s scene. No doubt Mick would hear about it eventually, but she didn’t want it to be here and now. “Mom, really, there’s no issue.”

“But—”

“Leave it alone, please,” she requested, casting a pleading look at Megan, who finally nodded with obvious reluctance and fell silent.

“Come on, Meggie,” Mick said when two customers came through the door. “Let’s grab that lunch and bring something back before Bree starves to death.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” Bree said. “Take your time.”

The truth was, though she was hungry, she wasn’t looking forward to another uncomfortable conversation with either of her parents.

Mick tried to get comfortable on the tiny wrought-iron chair at the French café, but it was a lost cause. It was a testament to how much he wanted to please Megan that he didn’t insist on going to the pizza shop down the street where the chairs were meant for normal-size people.

After they’d ordered and he’d finished squirming and resigned himself to being uncomfortable, he gazed into Megan’s eyes. “Okay, do you want to tell me why Bree was so anxious to rush us out of her shop?”

“Was she?” Megan asked, her expression all innocence but her eyes filled with guilt. “I assume it was because customers came in.”

“She was jittery as a june bug before those people ever crossed the threshold. Did I miss something last night?”

“You were at the party the whole time I was,” she replied. “How could you have missed anything?”

“I was outside for most of the evening. A whole lot of things could have gone on inside and I wouldn’t have known about it. Did she and Jake have words? I saw him when he finally showed up. He wasn’t inside more than a few minutes before he took off down the street with Mack chasing after him.” He frowned. “Something’s up with those two. Bree and Jake, I mean.”