We were back in Harrogate. The flower festival was starting soon, and I was stoked. There was a big competition for the best flower arrangement, and I had won the last two years. I was defending my crown.
I could and unfortunately had—see bad decision-making skills—produced to-die-for bouquets both drunk and hungover. I had the competition in the bag.
I arranged Baxter’s straw hat, which was festooned with ribbons and flowers, on his head then strapped on his flower saddle.
It was constructed of two straw baskets belted together so that they slung over his back. It was usually how I kitted him out for trips to the children’s hospital. I stuffed flowers into the basket then hopped into Ernest’s pickup truck.
“I hope the currywurst sausage stand is there,” he said as the pickup truck trundled down the road into town.
And I hope Sebastian and his sausage are there,I thought.
I hadn’t heard much from him since that amazing night in his penthouse. At least, I had thought it was amazing. Sebastian apparently didn’t seem to think so, since he had barely texted me since. Even though I had sent him a whole-ass topless photo that I had blackmailed Grace into helping me photograph.
Main Street was crowded when we arrived. I put on my humongous straw hat and took out two of the baskets of flowers in the back of the truck, then Baxter and I walked down the street, handing out flowers.
“So did you hook up with the billionaire with the chocolate-covered ding-dong?” Grace asked as she skipped up to me and hugged me.
“No.” I scowled at the flower in my hand.
“Really? He didn’t like my photos after all that effort? I’m offended.”
“They’re my tits, and I’m offended,” I said.
“Horsies!”
Several Svensson sisters ran through the crowd to me. They were all dressed in matching white dresses with white hats and pink ribbons.
“You all look so adorable,” I gushed.
Hunter and Sebastian followed a few paces behind the girls.
“It’s the flower festival. We have news crews and tons of tourists in attendance. We have to look our best, don’t we, girls?” Hunter asked.
Sebastian smirked. “Hunter’s paying them three hundred dollars an hour to wear those outfits.”
“I’m going to be rich!” Annie exclaimed happily, petting Baxter. “I’m going to buy a pony.”
“Ponies are expensive,” Hunter told her, “and I don’t think Greg wants one living in his penthouse.”
“For your information,” Enola said primly, “I found a number of ponies available for free online.”
“That’s how I adopted Baxter,” I said.
Hunter let out a sigh. “You know what? You don’t live with me. You live with Greg, so shoot, why not adopt a pony?”
“Pony! Pony!” the girls chanted.
I checked the big clock on the city hall building. “Since I have to participate in the flower-arranging competition,” I told them, “why don’t you do a practice run with Baxter and hand out flowers?”
They cheered and happily took the pony.
“We’ll come see you all when the competition starts!” the girls said.
“What exactly do we have to do for the flower competition?” Sebastian asked me, falling into step with me as the three of us walked toward the town square, where a temporary stage was set up.
I stopped short.
“Excuse me?” I turned on him.
