“I’ll call Nolan. He’s probably doing nothing but sitting around, watching paint dry.”
Bridget shoots me a glare, but the effect is lost by the glazed look in her eyes. “He’s painting your living room.”
I blink. “I know.”
She leans against the counter, a stand of her hair sticking to her temple. “So, obviously, he isn’t justwatchingpaint dry.”
I scrunch my expression up. “I don’t understand your point.” She throws a hand up in exasperation, and I dart forward when she tilts precariously. “Bridget, seriously,” I fret. “Go home.”
Steadying herself on the counter, Bridget sucks in a shaky breath before nodding. “Okay, yes. Yep. I’ll go home.But you need to call Nolan, okay? I don’t think you should be here alone.”
“Nothing will happen, Bridge,” I murmur, pulling my phone out of my apron and pulling up the rideshare app. “No one is going to be making trouble for a florist. Now, I’ve ordered you a ride. Go get your stuff. It’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Bossy,” Bridget mumbles, but does as I say, her feet dragging as she heads to the break room. Before she comes back, the bell chimes, and I look over as a man comes in, looking around the shop curiously. He doesn’t look like our usual clientele, dressed in a stretched-out band tee and worn jeans, but everyone needs flowers sometimes.
“Afternoon!” I call out, catching his attention. “Welcome to Blossom Boutique. How can I help you today?”
“Hello…Gracie,” he greets, his eyes dropping to the name tag pinned on my apron. “I’m looking for flowers for my sister. Something to say thank you for letting me stay with her.”
I grin. “Well, you came to the right place! Flowers are the perfect thank-you gift. Were you looking for a potted plant or a floral arrangement?”
He glances around, brows knitting together. “A potted plant, I think. A bouquet just dies, right?” He glances back at me, his eyes creasing uncertainly. “I don’t want to get her something that will just die.”
“We got some orchids just last week that I think will be perfect for you.” I round the counter, gesturing for the man to follow me. “Orchids are a long-lasting plant, and really low-maintenance, but they’re a flower that says, ‘I appreciate you.’”
“That sounds perfect,” he says behind me. “Halsey is low maintenance too. She spends more time lost in her artwork than anything else, so a plant that doesn’t need much will be a good option.”
“Halsey sounds like my kind of girl.” I laugh. “Here we are.”
I end up showing him the peace lilies as well, but the man decides to go with a purple orchid. I tie a ribbon around the pot, making the perfect bow while he writes in the small card he picked out. He hands it over, and I’m clipping it to the pot when Bridget comes out of the backroom, still looking pale, her bag hooked over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you later,” she rasps before her eyes flare, taking in the customer at the counter. She pauses, flicking a look back at me, brows lifting in question.
“I’ll be fine. Go home and rest.” It’s a testament to how shit she feels when Bridget doesn’t argue anymore, just bobbing her head and turning to head for the door. Through the glass window, I can see her ride idling at the curb waiting for her.
The customer tracks Bridget’s progress across the room, his brow furrowed. “Is your friend okay?” he asks as she steps through the front door.
“There’s a nasty flu going around,” I say, finishing up with the orchid and ringing him up. “Hopefully, some rest and fluids, and she’ll be back to herself in no time. Here we are—one orchid, ready for its new home!”
“Thanks, Gracie.” He gives me a smile without his teeth, and I realize he’s been doing that this entire time. I don’t know why it sticks out, but now my brain locks onto that detail, twisting it around into a strange fact. “You’ve been a great help,” he continues. “I’m sure my sister will love it.”
“No problem at all. And if your sister needs any advice about looking after her orchid, just tell her to give us a call.” I slide a business card across the counter, and he picks it up, flicking it over his fingers. “We’re open Tuesday through Saturday.”
“I’ll do that,” he murmurs, tucking the card into hispocket. He picks up the orchid, and then he’s gone. I wait until the bell stops chiming, making sure that no other customers are coming in beforeI call Nolan.
He answers on the third ring, “Hey, sweetheart.” There’s a loud rush of sound, like he’s standing next to a fan or?—
“Where are you?” I ask curiously.
He sighs into the line. “I ran out of paint,” he grumbles. “I’m driving to Ashland to buy some more.”
I press my fingers to my mouth, muffling the sound of amusement. “I told?—”
“Don’t,” he warns in a growl. “Otherwise, I’ll buyPeach PizazzoverSea Salt Green.”
I gasp. “You would not! I bet that’s not even a color.”
Nolan chuckles darkly. “Push me and find out.”
