EVELYN—
I assure you, Mrs. McGovern, the bows on the chairs will be the exact same color as the bridesmaids’ dresses. I will check the swatches personally,” I said, rolling my eyes at the phone. Not even ten a.m. and I already had to talk down Mrs. McGovern. Her daughter, Maddie, was marrying the mayor’s son and having their wedding at the Peninsula. Maddie was one of the most laid-back brides I’d ever worked with. She knew what she wanted, didn’t waiver, and let us do our jobs. Her mother, on the other hand, called at least three times a week to micromanage.
Bridget passed by and gave me a thumbs-up before walking back into her office. Lucky bitch. She only had to deal with the super-urgent stuff and vendor meetings. And of course, the wedding day, but I was with her for that. All the cranky phone calls from mothers of the bride or overly involved grooms was handled by me. It was the first thing Bridget taught me: Remain calm no matter what. Tell them it’s handled, even if it wasn’t. We were getting paid to take care of everything for them.
I was saved just in time as she started asking about how long the chef had been there, and if he had ever done anything as important as her daughter’s wedding, when a delivery person walked through the glass doors.
“I’ll definitely look into his credentials, Mrs. McGovern, and get back to you, okay? I have an urgent delivery here I need to address.”
I sighed loudly as I placed the phone back in the receiver. “Thank you,” I said, standing to sign for the delivery.
He looked down at his clipboard. “I’m looking for Evelyn?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I have a delivery for you,” he said, handing me the clipboard to sign.
“For me?” It was unusual for something to come specifically for me because everything was under Bridget’s name. I looked down to see where to sign and saw the name of the business at the top. Windy City Florist.
“Hold on. I’ll bring it in,” he said.
I shrugged it off and signed. It was probably a sample bouquet or centerpiece that I accidentally put in my name.
Then I saw it. Or part of it as the delivery guy was trying to wedge it through the door.
I rushed over to help him. “Here, I’ll hold the door.” He paused, and I unlocked the side door to give him more room to get through.
“Thanks,” he said, lifting an enormous floral arrangement into the office.
No, it wasn’t enormous, it was…massive. The white flowers, composed mostly of carnations, were flanked by overflowing greenery while a white satin sash that read BELOVED was draped across the middle.
It was clearly a funeral arrangement.
“Um,” I said, handing the clipboard back to the delivery guy. “I think this is a mistake. This obviously belongs at a memorial service or something. This is a wedding planning office.”
“You are Evelyn, and this is By Invitation Only, correct?”
“Yes.”
“They’re for you. Card’s at the top.”
“Huh?” I looked at the small envelope, and sure enough, my name was on the front.
The guy said something as he left, but I wasn’t even paying attention. I was too busy ripping the seal off the back of the envelope.
I slid the small card out and read the printed message:
Dinner tomorrow? Call me: 312-555-0199.
Abel
Oh. Hell. No.
Was he kidding me with this? What kind of idiot sends a girl he was interested in flowers that were more fitting for bereavement than interest? What a—
“What the hell is that?” Bridget shouted, slamming her door and pointing her finger at the atrocity.
“Abel sent it!”
She stepped toward the arrangement, circling it with her lip curled. “And he thought sending you this was the way to go?”
I poked one of the petals. “It’s all so weird and…creepy. This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” she shouted, slapping her hand to her chest.
“Because you told me to! You encouraged it.”
She waved her hand above it. “Well, you have to get it out of here before a client comes in and thinks we’re exchanging weddings for funerals.”
* * *
I had to say something to Abel. I mean, that was just good manners. Plus, it was going to be a double-whammy type of call. Thanks for the flowers, and never contact me again, weirdo. My judgment was seriously lacking for even considering going out with this guy. Callie was right. I should’ve stayed clear.
“Anything else?” Bridget asked.
“No. Just Mrs. McGovern. But I have it taken care of.”
She smiled. “Just how I like it. Okay, I’m running out to meet the Lake people at Red Loft. I swear to hell if that incompetent coordinator didn’t get those extra tables in there for the wedding Saturday, I’m going to level her with one look.”
She was so badass. I hoped one day to be just like her.
Once she left, I sat down at my desk and called the number Abel put on the card. I took a sip of my coffee and tried to tell myself the butterflies I was feeling as the phone rang were just my stomach complaining it hadn’t had breakfast and not that I was going to be hearing Abel’s sexy voice. If anything would be my downfall at that point, it would’ve been that.
On the fifth ring, he picked up, but I didn’t hear anything right away. A rough throat clearing, followed by a couple rounds of coughs were the first sounds before I heard a very raspy, very sexy “Hello?”
“Abel?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I cleared my own throat loudly, hoping to rouse him out of his sleepiness. Christ. Just don’t answer the phone if you’re still sleeping at ten a.m., especially if you’re going to sound so hot doing it.
“This is Evelyn. Owens. Evelyn Owens. I got your flowers and was calling to say thank you, but that I’d have to decline the dinner invitation.”
There was a pause, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Wait. The flowers? You didn’t like them?”
“They were…fine.”
“Fine? Wow. You must really think I’m a dick to call flowers I sent fine. Don’t hold back.”
“Look, I said thank you, but you don’t have to get snotty because I don’t want to go out with you.”
“I don’t care if you don’t want to go out with me. You could at least be cool when you’re calling someone to wake them up and then act all ungrateful.”
Oh hell no.
“First off, I didn’t know you’d still be sleeping at ten.”
“I’m a bartender. I don’t get home until three, and by the time I unwind and shit…well, you get the point.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “In any case, I was being tactful in regards to the so-called flowers. I have no idea what you were trying to prove by sending such an arrangement, but I wasn’t impressed. I was secondhand embarrassed on your behalf.”
“I very thoughtfully picked out that seasonal mixed bouquet!”
“A bouquet? For what? The cemetery?”
“That vase was extra.”
“There was no vase. Where the hell could they even put one?”
He paused. “They didn’t deliver the flowers in a vase?”
“No, I think it was a tad too large for one, don’t you think?”
“Ah. No. Just how big is it?”
I glanced at it and couldn’t even begin to explain. “Let me take a picture and send it to you,” I said.
After considering if I should stand on my desk to get the full effect, I decided that if I stood far enough back I could get the entire thing in the picture. I snapped the picture and sent it to him.
“Okay. Just sent it,” I said.
He was quiet for several moments before I heard him take in a sharp breath. “What the fuck is that? I didn’t send that!”
“Your card was sitting all pretty on top of it,” I said. “I had to get a ladder to get to it.”
“Ha-ha. Let me call you back.”
He hung up before I could say another word.
I set my phone on my desk and leaned back in my chair as I considered what my next move should be. Everything about Abel’s delivery, both with flowers and in most other actions, was always riddled with ridiculousness. There was an innocence in his ability to be oblivious and a sexiness to his will to behave without fear. He spoke his mind, and while that sometimes included a level of inappropriateness, the boldness was growing on me.
Five minutes later, he called me back.
“So, apparently the flowers I ordered for you were delivered to Vana’s Mortuary, and the arrangement you received belonged at a funeral there.”
I started laughing, not only because it was the perfect explanation, but also that the guy probably couldn’t have been any more embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he said with a sigh. “Rejected by the girl who received the Treasured Moments standing spray of flowers.”
“No, no,” I said, catching my breath. “I feel bad. I do. If it had happened to me, I would’ve died.”
“Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that the flowers were the reason you didn’t want to have dinner with me?”
I picked up a pen and started twirling it around my finger. How could I answer that? I wasn’t going to let him know I was hoping he’d call or text to ask me out. That I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since the night before.
I bit down on the edge of my pen and had an idea. “Presumption is a good word for it. For now, I have to do something with the flowers. Bridget was freaking out. If a client comes in and sees it, well, it just doesn’t fit in with the rest of the bridal decor. I’m not quite sure what to do with them. I don’t just want to throw them in the Dumpster.”
“The florist said he would come pick them up, but it would be a few hours.”
“Hmm. I guess I could move it down the long hallway or something until they come, but I don’t know if I could by myself.”
Come on, Abel. Follow me here.
“Of course you shouldn’t. In fact, I’m going to call that asshole florist and tell them to come pick it up immediately.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t do that. They already messed up once today.”
There was a long pause, one in which I was hoping he was connecting the dots. I casted out, dangling the bait.
“Any maintenance people to help you in the building?” he asked.
Maybe I was losing my touch.
“That’s not their job, you know, helping us move stuff. I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Thanks again—”
“Wait,” he said.
Wait.
“You aren’t going to try to move it yourself? I mean, I saw yesterday how nicely you dressed for work, and you shouldn’t be getting all dirty and stuff,” he said.
So close. Bring it around, buddy.
“Do you want me to stop by and move it for you?”
Bingo.
“Would you do that? I’d really appreciate it.”
“How about we make a deal?” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice, the smile that drew his dimples in and made me remember what it was like to feel flutters.
“Yes?” I said, smiling, hoping he could hear it, too.
“How about I come by in about an hour, get rid of the memorial of my humiliation, and take you to lunch as an apology.”
Fist pump.
“I can’t agree to that,” I said.
I heard him whisper “shit” under his breath. “You confuse the hell out of me.”
“What I will agree to is taking you to lunch for helping me out. Deal?”
He laughed, deep and strong. “Absolutely.”
“See you soon.”
“Yes, you will.”