Shoved (Moonlit Lake Matchmaker #4)

Chapter 9

STORM

After shoveling half of downtown the day before, people had been calling left and right with legal questions. I’d already taken on three new clients and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. Granted, they weren’t the most exciting cases—one was a will, the second a prenup, and the third…well, let’s just say one neighbor would like to sue the other for psychological trauma from seeing him too many times sans clothing—getting his mail, raking his leaves, even cleaning his gutters. I shuddered and tried to shake those lovely images from my mind. I felt traumatized already, and I wasn’t even there. I didn’t know if Mr. Fisk was a practicing nudist, had an aversion to clothing, or just liked putting on a show for his widowed neighbor, Mrs. Larkin. That case should at least be interesting.

Even with all those calls, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the feisty redhead with sparkling blue eyes. I swear we had a moment—lying there in the snow, only a breath apart, our eyes locked on each other. I’d been so tempted to kiss her. I think she’d wanted to kiss me too. Her gaze had shifted to my lips for a second. She was interested, I could tell. But I didn’t even know her name. And I’m not one of those guys who goes around kissing strange women.

I’m not a guy who flusters easily, either. I’ve taken on mob bosses and murderers in the courtroom and been completely in control. But the opportune moment, when I could have charmed her, gotten her to laugh, made a little small talk in the snow, and maybe even asked her out…well, I choked. I opened my mouth and insulted her instead.

It was fun seeing her fiery side, though. When she shoved me back into the snowbank—the clincher. I had to redeem myself in her eyes. Wasn’t sure how that would happen, but I had to try.

I’d seen her around town, at the grocery store, the bank, the cafe. She seemed to be pure sunshine wherever she went, making everyone smile as she made conversation with them. It was clear everyone in town loved her and only had good things to say about her. Any time I tried to talk to her, though, she gave me the cold shoulder.

The coffee shop hummed with activity and gossip. I stood in line with my eyes glued to the menu on the wall, hoping I could just get my coffee and get back to work. I didn’t need to read the menu, I always just got a grande Americano, but I hoped to avoid conversation by keeping my focus on the menu. My twin sister, Skye, always teased me about my antisocial tendencies.

I was patiently waiting my turn when a woman slipped in front of me in line. The woman I’d been hoping to see. I was about to make some charming comment about her cutting in line, but then she had the nerve to order the last almond poppyseed muffin that I’d had my heart set on. I ordered my coffee and stood next to her, waiting for our orders.

“So, we meet again,” I said, trying to sound the tiniest bit charming.

Her sunshine fades, and she mutters, “Oh. It’s you,” before shifting her body slightly away from me.

“Try to contain your excitement. This is a public place. Don’t want to give people something to talk about.”

She kept her eyes glued to the counter, watching for her order to come up. “Just stand there quietly and we’ll be fine. It’s when you open your mouth that the trouble starts. And I’d rather not have to waste this perfectly good pitcher of creamer on the top of your head.” She looked over her shoulder and gave me a fake, ultra-sweet smile, grabbed her order from the counter, and scurried out the door.

There was one more cup waiting on the counter. I picked it up, but it wasn’t mine. Serena. She’d picked up the wrong cup and taken mine by mistake. I explained this to the barista and asked her to make another Americano for me, which I was happy to pay for. This coffee mix-up just gave me an excuse to visit my local florist. And now I knew her name was Serena.

A couple minutes later, I entered the Message in a Blossom Flower Shop. Bells jingled above my head, signaling my entrance. A voice called out from the back of the shop. “I’ll be right with you, just a sec.” Even the song of her voice made my heart rate kick up a notch.

I perused the store while I waited. Holiday decorations covered every surface. Excessive, but not tacky. Most of them were probably for sale, so it was to be expected. There were also potted plants and stunning flower arrangements on shelves throughout the shop. My mom would love this place—which gave me an idea.

Serena returned to the front and stopped in her tracks when she saw me. “Are you following me? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you took my coffee, so I thought I’d bring you your order.”

She sucked in a breath and cringed. “I did. Sorry for the trouble. I haven’t even gotten to sit down and drink it yet.” She reached behind the counter for the cup. “Here. You might as well take this. I didn’t drink it, I promise.”

“I got another one, so no worries.”

We stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Alright. Well, I should get back to work. Thanks for bringing me the coffee.”

“Actually, since I’m here, I was thinking I should pick up some flowers for my mom. Do you have any suggestions?”

“What message would you like to convey?”

My brows creased and my mouth twisted to the side. “I’m not following.”

“Each flower has a special meaning. If I know what you’re trying to say with the flowers, I can put together a bouquet that conveys the right meaning or feeling. What is the purpose of bringing her flowers?”

“Uh. Just to be nice?” I couldn’t very well tell her the truth and say it was to make peace with the florist, now could I? “Appreciation, I guess. I want her to know I appreciate her.”

“Okay. I’ve the perfect flowers for that. Just give me a couple minutes to put it together. Do you want it in a bouquet, or a vase?”

“Bouquet is fine. She has tons of vases at home.”

She nodded and disappeared into the back. A few minutes later, she returned with a beautiful bouquet. “Alright, I created a mix of flowers that convey a meaning of appreciation…pink roses, lilies, gerbera daisies, hydrangea, and sunflower. What do you think?”

“They look great. How do they say appreciation, though? They just look like flowers to me.”

Her face reddened, and I stepped back, afraid she’d hit me with the bouquet. She let out a heavy sigh, like I was really trying her patience. Then plastered on that fake ultra-sweet smile again. Must be the smile that keeps her from committing murder, and I’ve seen it twice now. “Each flower has a certain vibration which aligns to emotions and feelings. These flowers are aligned to the feeling of appreciation, and when your mom receives them, she will feel that message, your appreciation, more powerfully than if you gave her other flowers.”

Her explanation stunned me. All this time, I just thought people gave flowers because they were pretty. I had no idea there was so much more to it. And her passion for them was admirable.

This time I didn’t say anything, but now it seemed she was offended by my silence.

“If you’re not really interested in them, I can save this bouquet for another customer.” She grabbed the flowers from the counter and turned toward the back.

“No. These are perfect. I just didn’t understand how it worked. I wasn’t trying to be cynical. Really.” I tried to smooth things over and at least keep her from hitting me. “I think my mom will love these flowers. How much do I owe you?”

She eyed me skeptically, rang up the order and took my credit card payment. “Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. I hope your mom appreciates the gesture. And tell her I said hello.”

As she returned my credit card, our fingers touched. Electricity shot up my arm, like it did when I touched her in the snow. I looked at her and her eyes widened before she yanked her hand away. I bit back a smile, happy to know it wasn’t just me.

“Until we meet again.” I picked up the bouquet, winked, and left the shop, already looking forward to the next time I’d see those sparkling blue eyes again.