Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

9. Hannah

9

HANNAH

I assumed I would never see Declan Andrews again, but never turned out to be Tuesday. In the middle of the morning, as I strolled to the front of the shop to grab a vase, his face was pressed to the glass window. He jumped back when he saw me, then leaned in and gave a chagrined smile and a wave. I went to the door and unlocked it. I intended to tell him we were closed, but he stepped forward and into the shop as soon as I turned the bolt. I shifted out of his way, not meaning to allow him entry, but doing so nonetheless. “We’re actually closed,” I said, although it sounded more like a question than a statement to my ear.

“But you’re here,” he said pleasantly, “and I need to make an order. You can help.”

I had no idea how Elizabeth would respond to Declan being in the shop today. She didn’t know I'd had vivid fantasies of kissing the man in the days since the wedding, and she never could. Elizabeth had built her brand on professionalism. Kissing the clientele was wholly out of the question.

I was shaking my head, trying to leverage him back towards the door. Elizabeth was here, in the building, and there would be no way to pretend Declan didn’t affect me if she was looking on. “We’re open tomorrow. We’re open every day, actually, except Mondays and Tuesdays, and by appointment on Sunday.” I put a hand on one of his strong arms, currently clad in a sweater and vest, and opened the door again. I didn’t intend to actually push him out—but whatever the closest thing to pushing him out was—that’s what I wanted to do.

Ignoring my very clear statement regarding the store’s hours, he smiled and walked past me, moving farther into the studio to lean against our counter. What was wrong with him? Why would he think he could stay in a closed business and demand he be served? I glared at him and walked behind the counter, raising my eyebrows expectantly. Elizabeth poked her head out curiously, but saw Declan and popped back behind our curtain. What if she saw the way a blush crept up my neck and onto my cheeks every time he complimented me? He needed to go.

Declan leaned in and smiled with total self-assurance. I glowered. “I want to order an arrangement to send to my mom.”

I let a slow breath out of my nose, calming myself.“We don’t do that.”

“You’re a florist—floral assistant, I know—but this is a floral shop. You don’t make arrangements?”

I was never supposed to see him again. If I’d have known I would see him again, I wouldn’t have indulged in so many fantasies. Instead I could’ve pictured him barging in and acting like this, which was far less sexy.

I sighed irritably, crossing my arms over my chest. “We are event florists. That means we make arrangements for events . We don’t make arrangements for individuals for shipment.”

He seemed to be mulling this information over when Elizabeth popped back out. “Good to see you again, Mr. Andrews. Let Miss Jackson and I look in the chiller and see if we have the inventory for your order. I bet we can figure out something beautiful for your mom.” Elizabeth put her hand on my elbow as if to gently guide me out, but her fingers dug into my flesh. I’d seen her respond to Matty this way before when Matty made her angry, but never me. Adelaide was deeply engaged with her sketches and no one else was here. Elizabeth picked up a bucket and pulled me forcibly into the chiller.

“Hannah Jackson, have you had a stroke?” In her anger she pronounced stroke as if it had two syllables. “This is my business, and I have built it by working for rich, privileged families like the Andrews.” Her tone was a hard staccato, and she plucked flowers as she talked, stopping every so often to glare at me meaningfully. “Did you know Ethan and Declan’s mother is a state representative? And that he works for Major League Baseball?Do you know what a big client Major League Baseball could be for me?” This time she was staring at me, wide-eyed and expectant, and I was about to answer—to tell her that when he’d said “MLB” I’d failed to put together he meant baseball—because maybe this question was not rhetorical, but then she picked back up in her lecture. “I like you, Hannah. You’re a very talented young woman, like a second daughter to me—” I had approximately one millisecond to appreciate her calling me a second daughter before I flinched back at her continued words. “—but dammit, I don’t even care to know what you’re thinking.” In six years, I’d never heard Elizabeth swear. “So,” she said, her jaw set and eyes flashing, “you’d better get out there and take this man’s order and make him happy.Do you understand? I’ve been very supportive of you, but if you become bad for my business you will not be employed here.” She shoved the bucket at me and walked out of the chiller, her features smoothed back into her trademark graceful smile as she led the way out front. She grabbed an iPad off her desk as she walked past, and I followed her with the bucket as I usually did while she worked. “Mr. Andrews,” she said with a large smile, “we have quite an assortment right now, and I think Miss Jackson will be able to work with you to develop an amazing bouquet or arrangement to send to your mother.”

I squeaked. I would make it? Elizabeth looked at me meaningfully and walked out. I turned to Declan, trying to quell the anger that surged up in me.I couldn’t believe I’d been on the verge of a promotion and now I might lose my job because this man was coming in when we were closed demanding products we didn’t make. “We have a lot of flowers in stock right now, so I’m sure we can figure something out for you,” I said quietly, echoing Elizabeth.

Declan’s grin had subsided, his brow furrowed as his eyes shifted between me and Elizabeth. I couldn’t really read him, but as he looked at me, standing and waiting for his order, his expression was clearly apologetic. I stifled an eye roll. I didn’t feel like accepting the apology.

Declan opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, then opened it again, saying,“Actually, I’ve never done something like this.” I assumed he meant ordering flowers, though I was tempted to ask if he meant using his wealth and privilege to bully a closed business into opening for him. Instead, I remained quiet and he continued, “I mean, I’ve sent online flowers to people, but the arrangements were all…predetermined. I don’t know how to create something.” He hesitated. “I just thought what you made at my brother’s wedding was really beautiful.”

A sighed a tiny sigh, hoping he wouldn’t notice and praying Elizabeth couldn’t see it, since I was sure she was watching me somehow. I wanted to stay angry, but damn if he wasn’t beautiful, and every so often he said something sweet.“Do you know any specific flowers she likes? Or the colors she likes? That would give me a starting point,” I offered, but he was quiet, and I struggled to fill the silence like Elizabeth might. “Let me pull out some of what we have now.”

“You know what was beautiful, that big flower—the one in my boutonnière. What was it called again?”

I plucked a Renaissance rose from the bucket next to me, twirling it between finger and thumb as I held it toward him. “The Renaissance rose,” I reminded him.

“Your favorite,” he said, as if he’d only just remembered, and though it was probably bullshit, I smiled—and it was not entirely forced—and he smiled in reply, pleased like a child who’d given the correct answer .

“Okay, so that’s a jumping off point,” I said, nodding and letting him take the rose from my fingers. “It sounds to me like you’d like me to come up with an idea and you can give me input based on that. Sound good?”