“Yup. Got a hot date?”
He winked, the move devastating. Or at least it would be if her body could seem to want anyone other than one particular, terrible-for-her guy. “Only with my remote control. Wanna join me?”
She smiled. His teasing flirtatiousness was second nature to him. She’d never take him seriously, and he’d never crossed the line into sleaziness. “Not tonight, thanks. See you tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.”
She finished cleaning up and was about to go lock up when the bell above the door rang. She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Her back was aching. Maybe it was simply a consult? She could hope.
She rose to her feet, but faltered when the curtain split and Nicholas walked in.
Goddamn. All he had to do was appear and her body sat up and panted, lips tingling, nipples hardening, the muscles in her thighs twinging. Like she hadn’t had her fill of him a few days ago.
You’ll never have your fill of him, you fool.
His gaze was locked on her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she returned, too stunned to say anything else. What was going on? She hadn’t summoned him in her sleep, had she?
“I, uh... I didn’t see your car outside. I thought I’d check anyway.”
“My car wouldn’t start this morning.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It can be temperamental.” She’d considered using her mom and Maile’s car, a little Kia that sat mostly dusty in the garage, but it would have required talking to her mom, which would have resulted in Livvy being on the receiving end of that indifferent stare, which would have resulted in her being sad, and she didn’t want to be sadder. They lived under three miles away. Walking hadn’t been difficult.
“You called a cab?”
“I walked.”
“You walked, in this neighborhood?”
She was about to roll her eyes, but then she had to admit she wouldn’t have been caught dead in this neighborhood when she was in the same social strata as him. “It’s not so bad.”
He looked around, like he expected a methaddict to jump out at him from behind a chair. “Right.”
“Did you come here to ask me about Ruthie?”
“Ruthie?”
“My car. Her name is Ruthie.”
“No.” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I, uh, came here to give you these.” He extended the hand he’d had behind his back and thrust the flowers he held at her.
Yellow roses.
She hadn’t touched yellow roses since they’d broken up.
Slowly, like one might approach a predator, she walked over to him, and took the bouquet from his hands. The cellophane crinkled in her fingers. The white tissue was crisp and watermarked with something. She tilted it to the light and made out a simple C shape.
The logo cut her to the core. She’d recognize it anywhere. Chandler’s had kept the same font C&O had used.
The pain was so overwhelming she had to remind herself to breathe. In order to cover the hit she’d taken, she spoke in a deliberately light tone. “You came all this way to bring me grocery store flowers?”
“Our floral department is considered pretty high-end now, actually. We do weddings and deliver daily and have top-notch designers—”
She forced a smile. “I don’t need the corporate rundown.” Though she wanted to appear indifferent and uncaring, she couldn’t resist bringing theflowers to her nose and inhaling deeply. She’d considered incorporating yellow flowers into her vine tattoo, but ultimately decided that was too obvious.
