Page 292 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“Oh, those are passionflowers. Aren’t they gorgeous? Do you want to purchase? Or do you need something else?”

“No. I need her.” I jerked a chin toward the woman who had me grounded to the floor.

“Eva will be right with you.”

Eva. The sound reverberated throughout my body like some mystical force.

At the mention of her name, she glanced up and met my gaze.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t nod. I didn’t do a damn thing except stare at her like a fool with my heart thundering as though I’d been running a marathon.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

When the last customer left, Eva walked up to me, looking cautious.

“How can I help you?” she asked, and something in me cracked a little.

Maybe it was my bones thawing from being frozen in place so long.Or maybe I was hearing things.

I knew I’dcompletely lost it when I blurted out, “Wanna have dinner with me?”

She blinked, and I felt a tug on my cock. Scratching the back of her neck, she studied me a moment and said, “Umm . . . Sorry, but I’m unavailable.”

One

EVA

I couldn’t say no when Morgan, the owner of Happy Flowers, called and asked me to come in even though my vacation started today. I was supposed to spend time with my grandfather, who came to visit me from Vermont. But our date was now postponed until later today. Grandpa Collins didn’t mind, as it gave him extra time to cook. No one cooked better than my grandpa, not even my deceased grandmother, Melinda.

Morgan was going through a messy divorce and had been sick for the past few months. I could only imagine the stress she was dealing with. I only needed to cover the shift until my coworker, Erika, showed up. Working for Morgan had taught me so much—I’d do anything to help her. Her cheating husband Gary was such a jerk. Good riddance!

His mistress had the nerve to come into the shop twice to order flowers, even though she knew his wife owned the shop. Some people didn’t have any shame. If I had known, I would have added some poison ivy into her arrangement.

A crowd of customers entered, and I assisted them. After that, I prepared orders that were due for pick up tomorrow, including taking new orders over the phone. The next few months would be busier than the previous years, but I wasn’t complaining. As manager I’d had conversations with Morgan about hiring another florist. Business was booming, but her personal life was taking a toll on her. I didn’t want to bring it up now because it would add more stress.

When the last wave of customers left, I stepped back into the office behind the counter and finished my orange juice. I reviewed my to-do list: a large terrarium center piece, transfer a dracaena plant in a new pot made by a local artist, and several bouquets of roses. They were due to be delivered to customers by the end of the day.

The shop worked with a delivery service ran by Rick and his wife Mandy. They were supposed to retrieve them for delivery in a few hours. I got to work and finished with time to spare. The chime at the front door sounded, and I emerged from the back studio to find three beautiful women browsing the shop. I recognized Natalie LaRue from the Boston Magazine spread that featured her Momentum fashion collection. She had long blonde hair and a striking face, looking even more beautiful in real life.

“Hi! I love your Momentum collection. I got a handbag from your Friends Forever collection and one for my friend, Stori.”

Natalie beamed. “Thank you. That makes me happy. These are my friends, Audri and Kiera.”

“So happy to meet you both. My name is Eva. Do you need help, or just browsing?”

“Both,” they all said together.

A lovely conversation started, and I learned Kiera recently got engaged. She was looking for floral weddingarrangement ideas. Because she wasn’t in a rush and there was no concrete wedding date, I offered to come up with something tailored to her vision.

I took down Kiera’s information and let the ladies browse. When Erika arrived, I headed back to my apartment, which was only a few blocks away. To save time, I hopped onto the Green Line Train, also known as the T. I had a car, but only used it when I needed to visit my grandpa or had to make long distance travel.

Grandpa had assured mehe didn’t need any help cooking, but I couldn’t let him do all the work. I’d stopped by the store yesterday to get the ingredients for him. Though his Parkinson’s disease was now stabilized, his trembling right hand prevented him from being efficient like he used to. On top of that, he had to take it easy due to having heart surgery just a month ago.

Settling in a seat on the train, I glanced around. I enjoyed people watching, wondering what their thoughts were and what obstacles they were going through. A couple sat in front of me on the opposite aisle. The guy draped an arm around his woman. A baby cried from the back, and she glanced my way. She had a tattoo of a heart—or something like that—on her cheek. She met my gaze and looked toward the baby, who was now feeding on her bottle while being cradled by her mother.

The guy turned around and looked toward the baby. He had dark eyebrows that made me think of two furry insects plopped over his eyes. He grinned and resumed his attention toward the front. Maybe the couple was trying to have a baby, so a baby’s cry had triggered something for them.

Would I have a baby one day? Right now, that dream seemed unreachable.

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