“I, uh, I came to talk to you.”
Staring is all I can muster. So, that’s what I do. I stare and wait for his next words. “I asked Venom where to find you.”
“When?” Because Gus wasjusthere, and he didn’t mention a damn word about Nate asking about me or worse, stopping in.
I’m going tokillGus. Because if I’d had any warning Nate Black was going to pop into the shop, I would have at least brushed my hair. Maybe I would have changed out of the green-tea-stained shirt I’ve got on. Or hell, I may have even put on a little makeup. I laugh out loud at that thought, because the last time I wore any makeup was at EZ’s. The night he told me I was a big, fat liar.
“Last weekend.”
Yep. I’m gonna kill Gus.
“You found me. Now you need to go. I’m really busy.” Just then, the phone rings, so I step over to the counter and pick up the phone. “Bloom’s, this is Maggy.”
I listen as the man on the phone orders several bouquets of red roses. I roll my eyes when he tells me he wants the same message written on all three cards. It went something like this: “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”
He told me to write “babe” so there was no name mix-up. Smart man. Too bad he’s such a fucking tool.
“I hope our love lasts a lifetime.” Yeah, that’s how he finished his love note. It makes me gag a little bit.
Let me tell you, we florists have the inside scoop when it comes to cheating pricks. It’s not a great place to be. Hell, I’m tempted to put a tiny note on the back of each card warning these women, but I can’t. Florists’ code, and all that. No matter. It’s none of my business what this guy does. I’ve got my own problems, namely the man now standing in front of me at the counter. As soon as I hang up, he asks, “Did that guy just order flowers for three girlfriends?” He’s got a smirk on his face like the caller is his idol or something.
“No idea. None of my business.” As long as they pay… I sigh and give Nate my blankest, most unemotional expression in my arsenal. “As you can see, Nate, I’m alone here and very busy.”
“Alone? You’re here alone? Is that safe?”
Okay. Now, that’s funny. So I laugh. “Like you care.”
“Hey.” He glares at me. “I care.”
“Robin will be back soon.” In the meantime… “What do you want?” I’m getting irritated. It happens a lot lately. Apparently, pregnancy, for some, means bitchy time. At least that’s what has happened to me. That and I’ve been breaking out like crazy. So much so I look like fifteen-year-old Maggy instead of thirty-five-year-old Maggy. There’s that and then there’s the puffiness. The weird part is, I’m not really showing yet. My pants still fit, sort of. Okay, clarification. My leggings still fit. My jeans are getting too tight to wear, but mostly in my ass and thighs. I was concerned about it but my ob-gyn said it wasn’t uncommon. That I’ll probably wake up one morning with a baby bump.
“We need to talk.” Nate sounds like he’s all business now.
I snort. Becausenowhe wants to talk?
“Like I said, I don’t have time right now. I don’t know if you realize this, but Valentine’s Day is forty-eight hours from now, and people seem to think roses are the only thing to buy. Not that I’m complaining about good business, it’s just….” Why am I explaining this to him? With a sigh, I look him in the eye. “If you want to talk, it’ll have to wait.”
“I can wait. Dinner tonight?”
“Tonight?” I want to laugh, but seriously, I’m too tired. “If you want to eat around midnight.” Because I’ll be here until then, at the very least.
“Midnight?” He looks down at my stomach, then up at my face. “You’re working until midnight?”
Now it’s my turn to get cranky. “It’s. Valentine’s. Day.” I growl. Literally. “And I’m. A. Florist.” What doesn’t he get? You know, it’s strange, I had the impression Nate was smart.
“Should you be on your feet that long?” He glances at my stomach again.
Probably not, but it’s none of this guy’s business. “What is your deal, Nate?” I mean… “Let’s just cut to the chase so I can get back to work. Why are you here? What. Do. You. Want?” Yeah, my voice is getting angrier and angrier with each word that comes out of my mouth.
“Uh….” Nate looks unsure. Like he doesn’t know if he should be afraid of me.
Yes. Be afraid, Nate Black. Beveryafraid.
“I, uh, want a paternity test.” He blinks three times in rapid succession. I count them. “When it’s safe for the, uh, the baby.”
Now it’s my turn to blink in rapid succession, except mine is way more than three times. “Why?” I mean, he made it clear it couldn’t be his kid. Right?
“You said you were on birth control.”
