A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Sneak Peek! A Very Disastrous Dare Chapter 1 - Emma

The bell above the front door at Pretty in Petals chimes as I’m still fussing with a vase of cheerful daffodils and tulips. I wish I was as happy as their bright faces, but, “There’s something just not...right... about this.”

I move another pink tulip, but it immediately creates a hole that looks like a semi-truck could drive through it. Nope.

“Hello?” a woman calls, and I know exactly who it is. Regina Thompson. An older woman, probably a generation older than me, who orders fresh flowers for her monthly book club. I shudder just thinking about getting together with other people to discuss books. Literature , I’m sure Mrs. Thompson calls it.

My shiver continues, because it’s freezing in the back room where I work with the flowers. I yell, “Be right out, Mrs. Thompson!” and pick up one more tulip. It irritates me that I’m going to give her extra flowers, but the centerpiece just isn’t right yet, and more flowers is almost always the trick.

Sure enough, everything finally looks balanced between blooms, leaves, and garnishes, and I quickly sweep the bright pink ribbon around the vase and tie an expert bow in only seconds. I grab the beautiful amber vase and bustle out into the shop, where Mrs. Thompson waits at the counter.

“Sorry,” I say breathlessly. “I’ve had a bunch of rush orders this week, and I’ve been running from dawn to dusk.”

She gives me a closed-mouth smile, her credit card already out, ready to pay. I set her flowers on the counter and start to ring her up as she inspects them.

“What’s the book tonight?” I ask her.

“ The Meaning of Everything ,” she says, brightening like I’ll have read that one. I’ve never dared to tell her that I only read floral magazines and the occasional domestic thriller novel.

“Sounds amazing,” I lie right through my teeth, and I maintain my daffodil-bright smile until the chime above the door rings again, signaling her departure. Then my shoulders slump, and I look around the shop at all the carnage this week has brought.

Spring has officially sprung in Cider Cove, and my little flower shop is bursting with colorful blooms, which usually cheer me up. Today, though, it simply reminds me that everyone and their daughter is getting married. Hillary and Liam’s nuptials are next week, and Ryanne and Elliott have set a date in May so as to give everyone a month to recover.

Then, Claudia and Beckett will be married in July—and I’m doing the flowers for all three events.

I swear, if I make it through the next three months, I should get a gold star, a tiara with real diamonds, and a special place in heaven.

I start cleaning up the shop, as I don’t have any more orders being picked up today, and I should have a presentable retail space for anyone stopping by with the thought that their wife or girlfriend would like some flowers.

The door opens as I’m walking toward it, and Regina has returned in all her dark-haired sophistication. “I forgot to ask you,” she says. “If you’re coming to the small business meeting at the library tonight.”

I’d completely forgotten about it, but I hitch my smile back into place and nod. “Yes, I usually do. What time is it again?”

“Six,” she says with an air of importance. “I had them move it so I could still do book club at seven-thirty.”

“Mm.” I give her the closed-mouth smile now, because I’m open until six, and the small business meetings are usually later in the evening. But apparently not when Regina Thompson has book club. I mean, book club , you guys. It’s gotta be the key to the meaning of everything .

I’m so glad others can’t read my sarcastic thoughts, and Regina smiles at me. “I’ll see you there.” She leaves again, and though it’s only four-ten, I want to go lock the door, pull the shades, and put out my “I’m sorry, we had to close early” sign. Who would it harm, really?

My stomach growls, a reminder that I haven’t eaten since I grabbed a protein shake from the fridge at the Big House that morning. I keep tidying up, moving the bouquets and arrangements that didn’t sell today to the refrigeration unit so I can preserve their freshness as much as possible.

There’s nothing I like as much as sweeping up the shop, and I start to do that as I think about the business meeting. I did have it in my calendar, but I’ve just had such a busy day— “And this whole week,” I say—that I’d forgotten. Now, with a little less to get done, my mind has more freedom to wander, and I remember that we’re talking about the Summer Faire at the meeting tonight.

The town of Cider Cove is expected to open sign-ups for various things, from the parade entries, to vendors at the fair, to fair and boutique participants, and I’ve already determined that I’m going to apply for a booth this year. I didn’t last year, because I was in the process of buying Pretty in Petals outright, and there was no time for anything else.

But as a local business owner, I want to make sure Pretty in Petals has a prime spot at the boutique and fair this year. Even if all I do is hand out business cards, it’ll be a win. Cider Cove doesn’t have another dedicated floral shop, but it’s also one of several small communities that have glommed onto the bigger city of Charleston—and there are plenty of places to buy flowers in the metropolis that extends past the physical boundaries of the town.

In fact, most people who live in Cider Cove commute to work in the city. That’s literally the definition of a suburb.

I mist the potted plants near the window, thinking about how much has changed since I bought this place last fall. It hasn’t been easy, but every day I fall more in love with my little shop and the joy it brings to me, and to everyone who comes in to buy flowers for someone else.

That’s the best part about flowers—they’re usually given to someone else as a loving gesture. I love that about them, and I love providing that for people. No one ever buys me flowers, but I know how to take them home for myself or my roommates. With the thought of having my boyfriend come buy flowers from me, for me, I think of Aaron Stansfield.

We had a few “friend-dates” over Christmas and New Year’s, but he started seeing someone else after that. “Avery,” I mumble to myself. “Or Adrielle. Amy?” I don’t remember her name, but I know it starts with the same letter as his. Aaron owns the hardware store right next door to my flower shop, and we’re friends, but we’re not like, call-each-other-and-talk-about-our-dates-with-other-people type of friends.

He took over the store from his father in January, and he’s been going to the small business meetings for years. In fact, I learned about them from him.

For some reason, my heartbeat does a weird ping-pongy thing through my body, like someone’s slamming it up to my skull and it’s getting bounced around from left to right in unstructured ways.

I finish with the shop and finally return to the cold room to check my phone. I’ve missed several texts on my roommates’ thread, which isn’t all that unusual. I swear, some of them can text by blinking and they have their phones with them and available all the time.

Hillary: Final dress fitting tomorrow! You better be there, maid of honor!

She’s sent it to everyone, because all five of us in the Big House are her maids of honor. She moved back in about three weeks ago, but she’s only got the essentials—clothes and toiletries—as if she’s on an extended vacation. Everything else was moved into Liam’s house next door, because that’s where she’ll live once they get married.

A sense of sadness looms over me for a moment, and then I see Aaron has texted. I leave the confirmations of my roommates that they’ll be at the dress fitting and go see what he has to say.

Are you going to the meeting at the library tonight?

The message came in twenty minutes ago, probably right when Mrs. Thompson had her toe tapping as she waited to pay for her flowers.

He’s messaged again with, My truck is having issues, and I need a ride if you’re going.

Then: It’s fine if you’re not. Just let me know. I’ll be at the store and can just walk over.

He’d been living in Liam’s house while Liam and Hillary have been in LA, and in fact, I think Aaron is still there. He’s been working on rebuilding and refinishing his grandfather’s house closer to the center of town, but he hasn’t moved in yet.

I’m going , I say. In fact, I haven’t eaten all day, so I’m going to close early and go grab dinner first. Do you want anything?

I send the message before I even think or read over it. Only when my phone rings and Aaron’s name sits there do I realize I’ve offered to buy the man dinner.

I’m obviously on my phone, so while I worry over what he might think of my offer, I swipe on the call and say, “Hey.” So eloquent. A real masterful conversationalist, I am.

“Hey,” he says in his semi-husky, all-sexy tone. He seems happy, and again, I start to stew over literally every single thing I’ve ever said to the man. “I’d love something to eat.” Something scuffs on his end of the line, and his voice is lower and deeper when he adds, “Gill brought in lunch today, and it was disgusting. I don’t think I’ll ever get the heat out of my mouth.”

I laugh, because Aaron does not like spicy food. “Did his wife cook again?”

“I swear, it should be a crime for the woman to be in the kitchen.” He sighs like he’s really suffering. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“Maybe I’ll just come over.” He almost phrases it like a question and almost doesn’t.

“Sure,” I say airily. Just because I think Aaron is good-looking doesn’t mean I have to start dating him. Besides a brief stint over the holidays, I’ve never thought he’s liked me as more than a friend. He’s Liam’s best friend, so we’ve been at parties and events together for almost a year now. “We’ll decide when you get here.”

“On my way.”

The call ends, and I hurry to go lock down the shop and put up my We’re Closed Early sign. Aaron will come in the back door, and it too has a buzzer, so I’ll know when he’s there.

In my office, I start gathering my things to leave, and my eyes land on the framed photo of Grams and me from last Christmas. Her proud smile as she stood in my shop for the first time still warms my heart. “I’m doing it, Grams,” I whisper. “Just like you always said I could.”

I take one last look around the office, breathing in the sweet floral scent that has become my signature. Lilacs, roses, and a hint of eucalyptus – a perfect spring blend scent, if I do say so myself—and turn to leave.

“Emma.”

I yelp at the sound of a man’s voice coming from the front of the shop, and I spin that way, holding up the only thing I’m carrying—which happens to be a black pen wrapped with floral tape with a fake white lily on top of it. Like that’s going to do any damage at all.

Then I think of my spy novels, and the heroines in those books can definitely incapacitate a man with a lily pen.

And the man in front of me is definitely someone I need to incapacitate...because it’s my former boyfriend.

“What are you doing here, Tucker?” My back is pressed into the wall behind me, and I don’t lower the pen as he smiles. He’s the reason I haven’t dated in over a year. He’s the reason every time I even start to think I could maybe go out with someone, I put myself in a boyfriend-free zone.

He shrugs like he just happened to be in the neighborhood, but I know that’s so false. My heartbeat thrashes at me as the buzzer for the back door sounds, and I twist that way. “You need to leave,” I say. “I know I locked that front door.”

“It wasn’t closed all the way,” he says like it’s no big deal that I just told him to leave.

As much as I don’t want to put my back to him, I turn and stride down the hall toward the back door, because I know who’ll be on the other side of it.

“I was thinking me and you were good together,” Tucker says, and my whole world turns upside down.

I open the back door and find Aaron standing there. Well, kind of. It’s an elvish version of the hot handyman, and I take a moment to blink at his robes, his pointy ears, and his goofy grin. “You’re not dressed up,” he says.

“Should I be?” I scan down to his shoes—also pointed—and back to his face. “Why are you dressed up?”

Some of his fun, flirty demeanor falls. “The invite for the meeting said to come dressed as your favorite book character.”

I can somehow sense Tucker behind me, maybe getting closer, maybe about to say something. I look right into Aaron’s eyes and barely move my mouth as I say, “I need you to play along with me, okay?”

His eyes search mine, and at least he realizes how serious this situation is. “Okay?” He looks behind me, and I’m sure Tucker is there based on the way Aaron’s expression changes in a split-second. “Oh, I thought you’d closed.”

“I did,” I say. “Tucker was just leaving too.” I nod slightly and then turn to face Tucker, who has advanced down the hallway. He looks at me and Aaron, and oh, how I wish Aaron had on his dark-wash jeans and one of his hardware store tees—the ones with the tight sleeves because his biceps are so impressive.

“Who’s this?” Aaron asks, and thank the stars above, he puts his arm around my waist.

“You remember him,” I say sweetly. “Don’t you, baby? I know I’ve told you about my exes.” I’ve done no such thing with Aaron, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

He kneads me closer as an entire fireworks show explodes through my hip from where he’s touching me. “Oh sure,” he says almost dismissively. “Tucker.” He says his name with pure distaste, and we all hear it. Then Aaron takes a deep breath and looks at me. “We’re still going to dinner before the meeting, right, sweetheart?”

“Mm, yes.” I tip my head back and stretch up at the same time. Aaron realizes I’m going to kiss him point-five seconds before I do it, and I register the surprise coursing from him the moment my lips touch his.

After that, it’s only an inferno of heat, the fizzing bubbling of a violent chemical reaction, and the musky, husky, manly, sexy scent of Aaron Stansfield. Everything else melts away, and he kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before.