Monday morning, Monica watched Mrs. Coates make a grand entrance into the kitchen. “Flowers for you,” she sang.
“Me?” She patted her chest and squinted at the red roses blooming from a translucent vase. The contrasting colors had a wow factor. There was no one in the room except her, but still she repeated, “For me?”
The woman nodded. Her eyes twinkled with suspicion.
“Do you know who they’re from?” Monica steadied her hand to rest her glass of water on the counter, then reached for the vase.
“Now, I would have to open the envelope to know that, and I’m too old to be in a federal prison for tampering with U.S. Mail.”
Unless the flowers arrived through the mail, the woman was safe. Of course, Monica didn’t want to give her any reason to be nosy.
“You’ve been holding back on us.” Mrs. Coates giggled. “I was about to set you up with my grandson. He’s good-looking—if I may say so myself—has a union job at a warehouse, and recently moved out of my daughter’s house.”
Recently moved out of his mother’s house. “How old is he?” she asked out of curiosity, not interest.
“Turns thirty-seven in December. He was a Christmas baby,” she boasted. “Well, you think about it. Kenny’s never been married and doesn’t have any children.”
Right. Nothing to consider. Monica nodded and waited for the woman to leave. She ripped open the envelope in her effort to get to the card. You’re a Special Valentine.
Aww. Her heart pounded, accepting the compliment. Turning the card over, she found no signature. Odd. “A secret admirer?” she mumbled. That hadn’t happened since second grade.
Fingering the petals, she closed her eyes and leaned in to inhale the fragrance. As her lids fluttered open, she got lost in the vibrant color of red. Who sent them? Why not on Valentine’s Day? She had no answers. Too bad Solae had taken Monday off, so she wasn’t around to help her solve the puzzle.
Twirling around, Monica was startled to see Tyson standing in the doorway. The suspicious look he gave her made her feel like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glanced from her to the flowers. “Nice.”
He didn’t have to know the sender was a mystery to her. “Somebody likes me,” Monica said casually.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed. He has good taste.” With a smug expression, he walked away to answer a call on his cell.
After scooping up her vase, Monica almost glided to her desk. She had the perfect spot for them. At the moment, the sender didn’t matter. The gesture made her feel cherished and not forgotten.
Whoever sent them had no idea they had made her day. She rearranged the vase three times until she was satisfied its location had a perfect view of the sun.
She called Veronica next. “Hey,” she said in a hushed voice when her friend answered. “You’re not going to believe this, but guess what I got?” She grinned.
“A raise!”
“Nope.” Monica didn’t have the patience to tell her to keep guessing. “Flowers!”
“Flowers? Who are they from?”
Spinning her chair around, Monica faced the window. “I have no idea who sent them. Maybe Daddy or Alexander. Right now, I don’t care if they’re from Mrs. Coates’s grandson.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, all I know is your brother better not be sending flowers and not include me.” She hmphed.
“You two broke up again,” Monica reminded her.
“Doesn’t matter. Flowers are a girl’s best friend.”
Monica giggled. “Ah, I think that’s diamonds.”
“Starts with the flowers,” Veronica said, then became quiet. “Seriously, you have no clue who sent them?”
Instead of answering, Monica closed her eyes and took a deep breath to enjoy the fragrance. “I may have to go home because I don’t know if I can get any work done today.” She rocked back in her chair. “Girl, they’re gorgeous. Here, let me take a picture…” When she spun around, Tyson was standing there. She jumped. If she could slid under her desk, she would have. She didn’t care if he’d heard she didn’t know who sent them. Monica was concerned about the “she wasn’t going to get any work done today” part.
“Hey, let me call you back.” She ended the call and folded her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me. Yes?”
His brown eyes seemed to be dancing in merriment. What part was the source of his amusement? He was about to push her vase aside, but Monica shooed him away. “No! I’ll move it.”
He lifted his hands as if he was being held up. “I wanted to go over this client with you. Unless you plan to go home for some reason.” He shrugged and snickered.
Monica scrunched her face. “You heard that?” Now would be a good time to die of embarrassment and they could bury her with the roses. “Busted.”
“Yes, you are.” When he laughed, she released her signature bark that blended in with his. “We’re good, but you can’t go home. I have questions about the demographics on this.” He waved a file in his hand.
Relieved and relaxed, Monica smiled as she moved her vase. It felt good to laugh with him. He waited while she tapped on her keyboard to bring up the spreadsheet.
The musky scent of Tyson’s cologne arrested her senses when he peered over her shoulder at the screen. It was like a tranquilizer, slowing her movements.
Fighting the druggy feeling, she excused herself to the ladies’ room. After using the facility, she washed her hands and stared at her reflection. What was going on with her? Her fingers felt numb and her heart raced. Was Tyson’s closeness triggering a panic attack? Grinning, Monica shook her head. That wouldn’t be a bad tradeoff from the other one.
#
Discussing a report with Monica had been a ruse. Curiosity drove him to her desk to see it decorated with flowers like Solae and Jennifer’s.
Her blush had been priceless. Once he returned to his office, Tyson couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face like a rash. He didn’t mean to sneak up on Monica, but he had to know if the flowers had any effect on her. The stunt he pulled had cost him. Tyson Graham had crossed the line in employer and employee code of conduct and he had no idea how to keep himself from breaking the rules again.