“Yes, boss.” Mickey teased as she took the tub and went to get more blooms.
The phone began to ring. “Petals to the Metal, this is Sarai. Hello again, Mrs. Forester. Yes, we have your order. You want to change it to pink Gerber daisies and white peonies? No, that shouldn’t be a problem.” She rolled her eyes. This was the third time the wedding flowers had been changed.
“Yes, the price would go up for labor. Because we already started the bouquets and it would take extra time now to undo what we’ve already done and start on the new ones. We have the bride’s bouquet done andtwo of the four bridesmaids done… Six bridesmaids?” Sarai searched her desk for the order. “I have the order right here; it was for four. Ok, that’s not a problem. I can make two more, but it will cost more. Let me figure that out, and I’ll have my assistant call you back. Thank you,Mrs. Forester.”
Mickey came back with the tub of lilies. “Who was that?”
“Mrs. Forester.”
“Not again!”
“I need to crunch new numbers for her, and I need you to get me pink Gerber daisies and white peonies. Then go to the craft shop and get me more floral tape and more yellow ribbon, oh- and two more bouquet holders. She added two bridesmaids.”
“I’m on it. All this stress… you should go to work out at the gym.” Mickey winked.
“Go get me my supplies. Do I look like I have time for the gym?”
“Here are the orchids and the lilies for Mr. Dreamy’s arrangement.” Mickey had that teasing smile on her face.
“Take them back, the wedding bouquets have priority,” Sarai said, trying to pretend that Alistair had not made any impact on her.
Sarai flipped a dial on her radio and rock music blasted through the store. She rocked out as she beganstripping the previously made bouquets so they could start over.
Chapter 2
Alistair
It had been a few days since he had gone to the flower shop and met Sarai, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. The young woman had to be around 23. She was stunningly beautiful and once his eyes had landed on her, he felt breathless. And her twinkling blue eyes bothered him most.
Alistair finished getting dressed for the dinner. A dinner he was suddenly dreading. He came down and noticed the orchid and lily arrangement was already there on the table. It was even more magnificent than it had looked in the book. It made him moody seeing it there, since it meant that Sarai had already dropped it off. He had missed his chance to see her again, since she had yet to take him up on his offer for the gym.
She was eccentric, hot, and interesting- unlike most of the girls he usually saw. He had spent extra hours at the gym, hoping that she would walk in while he was doing paperwork or working out, but she hadn’t showed. He continued thinking about Sarai, picturing her as she had leaned against the counter, her shirt sagging a bit, hinting at cleavage.
No. How I can even think like that. It’s wrong.
He shook the thought of it off as his arranged mate, Phoebe, came in. Phoebe was nothing like Sarai. She was tall, slender, with golden colored hair that nearly swept the floor. Phoebe was dressed in an elegant lace gown, in a delicate shade of blue. Her face was perfectly painted with no adornments. Her neck and ears dripped with large jewels. Alistair thought back to Sarai’s face. He had noticed the diamonds at the corners of her mouth. He had never seen anything like it before, and it made him wonder what it would be like to kiss a mouth so adorned like that. Phoebe coughed gently, bringing him back to the moment.
“Phoebe, you look lovely, darling.” He politely and ceremoniously kissed her cheek.
“Hello, Alistair. Oh, what a pretty flower arrangement,” she said, eyeing the beautiful blooms on the table.
“I’m glad you like it. The florist suggested it. I was going to go with something simpler, more elegant, like red roses.”
“I like this.” Phoebe gently touched an orchid. “Such vibrant colors. It brightens this dull room.”
“Yes. Indeed, it does.” He smiled to himself. “Are you ready for…”
“The show? As ready as I’ll ever be. You?”
He gave her a smirk. The doors opened wide from the other side. Four older adults, dressed in ancient finery, entered the room. The women wore gowns and jewels adorned their head, ears, neck, and waist. Unlike Phoebe's jewels that were elegant but understated, their mothers’ jewels were gaudy and ancient. Their fathers were dressed in ceremonial silk robes. Alistair had forgone his robe for a nice suit. His father’s eyes flashed with rage for his son’s disdain for their customs and traditions.
“Phoebe, don’t you look divine,” his father greeted her.
“Thank you, Lord Quentin.” She took his hand and curtsied. Then she and Alistair's mother curtsied to each other. Alistair bowed to her parents.
“I see your son has no respect.”
“I bowed, didn’t I?” Alistair grumbled.
