Flowers on Main. Sherryl Woods

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СКАЧАТЬ Labor Day–weekend crowds.”

      “I’ll see that you get your first delivery before nine o’clock that Friday morning. I’ll need to know what you want on the Monday before, earlier if there’s something that has to come from another grower. Connie will see that you have a list each week of what’s available. If you need deliveries more than once a week, we’ll adjust the schedule. Or you can come by here to get what you need to fill in.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Like you said, it’s business. Don’t read anything into it. Close the door on your way out.”

      She frowned at the dismissal, but she knew better than to try to prolong the encounter. She’d gotten what she came for.

      And then some.

      Jake cursed when his hand actually shook as he reached for his phone after Bree was finally out of his office. He’d been dead serious earlier when he’d decided to drink his dinner, but he wanted company. A man who could still be rattled by an ex-lover six years after the breakup was pitiful enough without turning into a solitary drinker.

      If he’d ever been the type to gravitate toward willing female companionship of the kind that didn’t ask questions or make demands, tonight would have been the night to seek out such a woman. Unfortunately, he’d never seen the value in simply hooking up. He’d always wanted more. He’d wanted what he’d had with Bree. Or what he’d thought he had, anyway.

      That left him with Will and Mack. And when Mack turned out to be busy, it left him with Will.

      “Ground rules,” he said tersely when they met in the bar at Brady’s. “No questions. No trying to psychoanalyze my mood. We are here to drink. Okay?”

      Will gave him a knowing look. “You must have had one hell of a meeting with Bree today.”

      Jake scowled at him. “No questions. Didn’t I make that clear?”

      Will grinned. “You did. And if Ms. Davis, our English teacher, were here, she’d explain to you that the sentence I just uttered was a statement, not a question. Bree O’Brien is the only person I know who can put you into this kind of mood.”

      Jake downed half his beer. “Okay, wise guy, I know I told you not to try to psychoanalyze my mood. I was very clear about that.”

      “But this is so much fun,” Will retorted. “Your love life is much more interesting than watching the Orioles blow another lead, which they’re doing, by the way.” He gestured toward the TV above the bar, his expression mournful. “How can they do that night after night?”

      “Because they’re having a lousy season,” Jake said, warming to the safe topic. “The pitching sucks. The bullpen’s worse.”

      “Can’t argue with you there,” Will agreed just as Mack joined them.

      Jake stared at him. “I thought you had a date.”

      “It wasn’t a date,” Mack said, his expression sour.

      “Which means he was out with Susie O’Brien again,” Will said.

      Mack scowled at the assessment, but Jake chuckled. “Don’t mind him. Will thinks he has a deep understanding of our sad love lives. Of course, that raises the question of why he doesn’t have a love life of his own to worry about.”

      “I had a date just last night,” Will said indignantly. “A real one, not like whatever’s going on between you two and the women you maybe are and maybe aren’t dating.”

      Mack’s expression brightened. “Do tell,” he said. “Give us a shining example by which we can live our lives.”

      Will frowned. “Mock me if you will, but this could be the one. This was our fourth date in two weeks.”

      Jake and Mack exchanged a look. Will rarely went out with the same woman more than twice. Either he got bored or they got tired of having him analyze them. In one instance, when he’d gone out for two months with the same woman, he’d belatedly realized she’d actually been using him for free counseling. He’d sworn off dating for months after that.

      Just as Mack was about to speak, Will stopped him. “Don’t worry. This isn’t another Jasmine. In fact, Laura’s a psychologist, too. She has a practice in Annapolis. She just bought a weekend place here.”

      “And this is the first we’ve heard about her?” Jake chided.

      “Are we not your best friends? Aren’t you supposed to run something this serious past us?”

      “No,” Will said succinctly. “You’re my best friends, but you don’t have veto power over the women in my life.”

      “I’ll remind you of that next time you try to exercise your veto power over the women in mine,” Mack grumbled.

      “I’d never veto Susie,” Will told him.

      “I’m not dating Susie,” Mack repeated.

      Jake nudged Will in the ribs. “Protesting too much, wouldn’t you say?”

      “I would,” Will agreed, clinking his beer bottle to Jake’s.

      Mack looked as if he might want to crack his beer bottle over one of their heads, but instead, he took a long drink, then regarded Jake innocently.

      “So why are we here? Does this have something to do with Bree?”

      “I’m guessing yes,” Will said. “Jake’s not talking, though.”

      “Because there’s nothing to say,” Jake insisted.

      Because they’d each ruled out further discussion of the women in their lives, they fell silent. Sipping their beers, they turned their attention to the game just in time to see the relief pitcher walk in the other team’s winning run.

      “Orioles suck,” Mack said.

      Will nodded.

      “You got that right,” Jake said, then sighed. It pretty well described the way his whole day had gone.

      The smell of freshly cut wood filled the air inside what would soon be Flowers on Main. Bree stood back and admired the stainless steel–topped island that would be her primary work space in the backroom. It had nooks and crannies and drawers for storing vases, boxes, ribbons, wire, florist tape and anything else she might need to create spectacular arrangements.

      “What do you think?” Mick asked, standing beside her. “Is it what you had in mind?”

      She turned and threw her arms around him. “It’s perfect, Dad. Thank you so much. I can’t believe you were able to create that from the scribbles I gave you.”

      He laughed. “Believe me, it wasn’t the scribbles. It was the way you described what you needed for it to be functional. Running over to Ted Jensen’s place one morning helped, too. I figured after all the years he’s been in business, he’d know what you’d need.”

      “Since he’s closing down, I probably should have СКАЧАТЬ