Cait would pick either Jenna or Melisa, and he’d make a bet with her that she was wrong. She’d bet on Melisa, because everyone knew Rob was loaded and he could afford huge flower arrangements, and then when Melisa came home, she’d take the card off the holder and open it…
Brian would be ready to sweep Cait into his arms and bend her backwards like they did in the movies and kiss her in front of her family. She’d kick one foot up in the air and giggle and blush, and then her family would know that he loved her. Connor would stop worrying, and Cait would feel happy again.
Brian swished the wiper blades faster and spotted an off ramp. He would never text and drive, so he pulled into a strip mall and asked his phone to direct him to a florist.
Love Me Flowers was nearby.
After a few minutes, he pulled the Toyota into the small parking area and stepped through the door. The cooler was stocked with a panoply of colorful arrangements, reminding him of the variety of ice cream cakes at the ice cream store. There were long golden boxes, Christmassy centerpieces, buckets of fresh flowers, and bouquets tied together with ribbons.
“What kind of flowers do most women like?” he asked the florist, a heavy-set woman with platinum blond hair. She wore a leather vest and a bandanna around her neck, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the patches on her vest signified she belonged to a motorcycle club.
“Depends on what you’ve done.” She cracked her knuckles on her red chapped hands and swaggered to the cooler.
“I haven’t done anything,” Brian said. “I just want to surprise my wife.”
The blonde turned around slowly like she was a hot rod car on a turntable at an auto show. A smirk the size of St. Louis twisted her attractive face as she crossed her arms. “Surprise your wife, my foot. No man comes in here wanting to surprise his wife unless he’s in the doghouse. What’s it this time? Working late? Caught with lipstick on the collar? Busted by the credit card statement? Or you forgot her birthday.”
“I never forget her birthday or our anniversary,” Brian answered the easy question. “Birthday and our anniversary are both March 17, St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Not bad. Not bad,” the buxom woman said. “There aren’t a lot of men so quick with dates. How many years have you been married?”
“Twelve. I’ve also got a photographic memory, and I don’t forget details.”
“A rare breed indeed,” the florist said. She stuck her hand out to shake. “Name’s Terri Slade. What’s yours?”
“Brian. Brian Wonder.” Brian shook Terri’s hand, surprised at her firm grip.
“Ahh… the Wonderman.” Terri narrowed her pale blue eyes and twirled her long hair. “You wouldn’t happen to play Realm of Rogues, would you?”
A flush of sweat heated the back of Brian’s neck. He hated being recognized outside of the realm. It felt like an intrusion, like two worlds that should not cross.
Yet, he’d already started the mixing up process by contacting TrickyGlen online and giving him clues that pointed to his in-law’s cabin.
Would he get in trouble if this Terri Slade were to identify him to the authorities?
Even though he wasn’t a natural liar, he knew that this was a situation Alana had described—one of omitting information rather than twisting it.
“I haven’t been playing games,” he said, counting the number of tiles across the floor of the small shop. If each tile were eight inches across, then three-by-three squares would equal four square feet, and…”
“That’s what they all say, mister,” Terri opened the door of the nearest cooler. “Since you won’t tell me why you need the flowers, I’ll use my super-duper Priestess power and peg you as a guy who ignores your wife.”
Brian averted his gaze and swept his eyes across the room to the curtained area just over Terri’s left shoulder. Instead of letting him go, like any normal person would, the pushy florist moved her head so her piercing blue eyes were square in line with his.
Every time he tried to avoid her eyes, she’d move and stick her face in direct line of sight.
“Huh, huh?” she taunted him. “I knew it. You not making eye contact with me says you don’t look at her either. When was the last time you gazed deep into her eyes and told her you loved her?”
Try never?
Brian bit his tongue and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. “Can I just buy the flowers? I don’t have much time.”
“Avoidance. I bet that’s her peeve. You’re never there when she needs you, and whenever she tries to corner you, you slither away like a snake in a wormhole. Which surprises me, since Wonderman’s an Archer, and archers are supposed to be straight shooters. You sure, you’re not a shapeshifter?”
“I am a straight shooter,” Brian practically shouted. “I don’t tell lies. I want flowers to make my wife feel loved.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” The large-boned woman honed in on him like a hound dog picking up a scent. “You’re in luck, because I have just the arrangement for you. Most people think of red roses for love, but that is for later on, to fire up the passion and keep it hot. Right now, you need to awaken her from her loneliness. Ignite a tiny spark of hope. Make her smile and think of you fondly.”
“I want her to smile. Her sisters always get flowers from their fiancés and she never gets any from me.”
