“Anytime.” Brock headed up to the apartment to start the bathroom renovations. It took everything in his power not to glance back at Juliette. To see if she was watching him the way he wanted to watch her.
He would have to find a way to change Juliette’s mind. Not only to save the beach house, but to save her. Because if he knew one thing for certain, it was that Juliette and Gigi were like sparks shooting from the same piece of flint. And it was only a matter of time until one of them ignited.
CHAPTER 7
The rest of the day passed fairly smoothly at Mystic Florals. Juliette kept her hands busy, which in turn kept her mind busy, and steered it far from drifting down forbidden paths—like where Rodrigo was, what or who he was currently doing, and if he was even thinking of her at all.
The second she tried to avoid thoughts of Rodrigo, her mind betrayed her and wandered to the man who was renovating the upstairs apartment. Brockton Kelly Gallagher, with his melty amber gaze that weakened her knees and his rough-around-the-edges looks. He left for boot camp when they were just kids, full of eggshell promises and colorful dreams. But her letters always came back unanswered, and at some point he’d traded in his boyish youth for the maturity of a man who had seen things and done things she couldn’t even imagine.
So, instead of dwelling on the memories that haunted her thoughts, she focused on the task at hand. She assisted Adrienne in creating some arrangements for the weekend and pretended not to notice when Vivianne snapped candid pictures of her working. She bundled together a collection of leftover jewel-toned flowers and set them in a crystal vase. There were stems of crimson roses, magenta ranunculus, dahlias such a deep purplethey looked nearly black, set with some sprigs of gorgeous guava greenery.
“Those colors are fantastic together,” Adrienne gushed, admiring Juliette’s handiwork. She pulled out her professional camera and took a picture of the bouquet.
Juliette beamed, finally feeling like she was doing something right. Like maybe working back at Mystic Florals wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Thank you.”
Gigi passed by the worktable with a large crate of rainbow-hued tulips in her arms. She glanced at Juliette’s work, pursed her lips, and continued on to the back cooler without a word.
“That’s just her new way of saying she’s mildly impressed,” Vivianne whispered, and took a picture of the finished arrangement for the shop’s social media accounts. She added a filter so the vase of flowers burst with color like a set of crown jewels.
Juliette shrugged off the snub. She was used to never quite being good enough. Her mother had made a similar statement not so many years ago.
She told herself everything was fine. All of it. Mostly. Almost. Until the bell above the shop door jingled and in walked Anne-Sophie, the youngest of the Laurents.
Her baby sister had grown up, and it was startling. She wore a terracotta headband, and her hair was heavily highlighted, with golden tresses framing her face. Her makeup was contoured to perfection, complete with smoky bronze eyes and glossy nude lips. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, and she was decked from head to toe in expensive designer wares. A Chanel bag was hooked on her elbow, and her knee-high boots were Gucci. She was bundled into a wool peacoat from a brand Juliette couldn’t even properly pronounce. She racked her brain, trying to remember what exactly it was Anne-Sophie did for a living that allowed her to live a life of luxury.
“Ah! Anne-Sophie!” Gigi came bustling from the back cooler and wrapped her youngest daughter into her arms. “Ma chèrie, I have missed you so.”
“Mama.” Anne-Sophie kissed both of her mother’s cheeks. She glanced over to where Juliette stood with Adrienne and Vivianne. Her eyes were filled with light, reflecting a sheen of adoration, but the moment they skimmed over Juliette, her gaze darkened.
“Adrienne, I saw the images of the latest wedding you photographed! Your pictures were seriously stunning. So, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I put a word in with an editor I know for the upcoming bridal season.” Anne-Sophie smiled but raised both of her hands when Adrienne gasped. “Obviously I can’t make any promises, but I just wanted to make sure I let you know. In case you get a call or something.”
“Really?” Adrienne toyed with the frayed edge of her camera’s strap. “Thanks, Soph. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Anne-Sophie nudged Vivianne’s shoulder with her own. “And Viv is out here becoming an influencer, gaining followers by the minute.”
Vivianne smiled and dipped her head, saying nothing but graciously accepting the compliment. Juliette almost mentioned how she thought it would be fun if Vivianne did a series of posts on the craziness of receiving day—when all the flowers arrived at the shop—but then Anne-Sophie’s gaze cut to Juliette. For a brief moment, she looked exactly like their mother. Full of silent judgement and completely unimpressed by her existence.
“Juliette.” Disdain dripped from Anne-Sophie’s voice and her brows pulled together in a glower. “How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”
Juliette bristled. That was not at all what she was expecting from her baby sister. Granted, she didn’t think she would begreeted with a warm hug, but she certainly didn’t think she deserved such a caustic welcome.
“Ah-ah,” Gigi clucked, waving one finger through the air. “None of that.”
“No plans tonight, Soph?” Vivianne asked, smoothly changing the subject and diverting the attention back to her.
Anne-Sophie angled her body to shut Juliette out of the conversation. “No, I took the night off. But I do have some news.”
“Oh?” Gigi asked, her interest piqued, because it seemed her youngest daughter could do no wrong.
“Yes,” Anne-Sophie drew the word out, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I just spent the last few hours at a birthday party for Charity Rhodes…where she just announced her engagement!”
Intrigued but trying to act as though she couldn’t care less, Juliette leaned against the worktable. Charity Rhodes was a fashion queen in New York City. She was a socialite with an eye for style, and her parents were D.C. royalty. She was pretty sure a few of Charity’s friends ran in the same circles as Rodrigo, now that she thought about it. It was exceptionally interesting how a small-town beach girl like Anne-Sophie had managed to slide herself into such an exclusive crowd.
“The mothers are already planning the wedding for this June,” Anne-Sophie continued, and smoothed her golden hair back from her face. “It’ll be the event of the season.”
Gigi tapped one manicured fingernail to her chin. “And this wedding, where will it take place?”
“They haven’t decided yet. All they know is they want it on the beach.” Anne-Sophie’s smile widened. “And I may have locked you in as the florist!”
