“He’s like a dozen years younger than you, perv. And he’s my biggest competitor.Andyou’re married.”
“Pssht.Details. When it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Jared will understand.”
Meanwhile Constantine, who had no right to be so damn attractive, was kneeling in front of Sivan in a way that had more than one mother in the assembled group smiling like her ovaries were imploding at the sight.
“Wanna whisper it to me?” Constantine asked.
Little Sivan nodded and bent toward his ear.
Con’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Nuh-uh.No. That’s not gonna work.”
“Yeah-huh!” Sivan insisted. “It is. It’s the only way.”
“Only true love’s kiss can break the spell?” Constantine demanded. He looked me up and down, shook his head, and solemnly pronounced, “Then we’re alldoomed.”
Everyone laughed — whether at him or me or both of us, I wasn’t quite sure. Leandra’s laugh was loudest of all.
Needless to say, I didn’t find it funny.
I had no problem taking a joke—I wouldn’t have lasted long in my family if I couldn’t laugh at myself, after all—but I couldn’t help thinking this man-child needed to be taught a lesson in humility, and I would dearly love to be the one to give it to him.
I shook my head at Constantine slowly.
Con stood up and had the audacity to wink, his blue eyes dancing at me like we were in on the joke together, some kind of comedy act where I was the straight man.
Newsflash for Constantine Ross: I’d never been a straight man, in any sense of the word.
I deliberately looked away.
“You know,” Leandra began a moment later, but I glared at her so fiercely, she went back to rearranging bouquets without finishing her sentence.
I tweaked each plant on my table half an inch to the right and absolutely didnotnotice Constantine’s fine bubble ass shaking to the beat of whatever new song Pete was playing as the crowd dispersed and he set up his display.
Pete’s voice broke in as the song ended. “Thank you everyone, thank you. One more announcement.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Parker says he’s actually serving the burgers ateleven, not eleven-thirty! So roll your clocks back or whatever. Alrighty! Next up is a classic tune…”
Constantine had finished setting up his booth—by which I mean throwing shit haphazardly on his table with no rhyme or reason whatsoever—and was leaning on his elbows, watching people pass by. But when Pete spoke, Con’s jaw dropped and he looked at me with eyes nearlyglowingwith laughter.
“Oh mah gahd.It’s happening,” Con said in a hushed voice. “Time is moving backward.”
It wasnotfunny. Provoking menace.
Meanwhile, Leandra-the-traitor snickered again.
“Are you about done down there?” I demanded, peering over the front of the table.
“Um. Yes?” she answered meekly, twisting her lips to hide her smile. “Just about?”
I noticed that Constantine, despite his cluttered table, was doing a brisk business, greeting customers by name and giving each of them a friendly grin. I’d sold exactly one bouquet in this entire morning, and the woman had been looking over her shoulder the entire time like Angela Ross might come along and accuse her of infidelity.
You’re here to earn goodwill, I reminded myself.Patience.
While my wedding flower business and corporate clients had picked up steadily in recent months, I’d vastly underestimated how loyal the average O’Learian was to the town’s established small businesses. Ross Landscaping and Flowers had been the only local option for decades, and by God, O’Learians were determined to keep it that way. Didn’t matter that the Rosses didn’t evenhavea storefront, so you could only buy their arrangements at the farmer’s market, through special order, or in a ridiculously tiny two-foot-wide section of the produce department at Lyon’s Imperial. Didn’t matter that the artistry of their “arrangements” was about the same quality little Olivia produced in her dandelion bouquets.
Ross had gotten here first, so Ross was the only right choice.
