Page 23 of The Angel and the Agent

“Are you okay?” a man said, coming to peer over her.

“I’m fine.”

“Sorry, he gets a little too enthusiastic sometimes,” he said.

“Totally worth it,” Amelia told him as he helped her up and stooped to gather her flowers and purse and hand them back to her. By this time she was so frazzled she almost forgot where she was going. Her legs began heading for the salon before the rest of her caught up, the power of muscle memory.

“Your nine o’clock is here and waiting on you,” Julie hissed as soon as she opened the door.

“What? No, it’s supposed to be a nine thirty,” Amelia replied.

“Nine,” Julie mouthed, shaking her head.

Great, just great. Now Amelia would have no time to put her purse in her locker, fill her water bottle, settle her station, and review the upcoming appointment to learn what she could about the client. Her day was turning into a roller coaster—blah, then surprising, then amazing, then hectic, and now frustrating.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Amelia said as she approached her station, sounding as frazzled as she felt. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.”

“Try me,” Ethan said, turning in her chair to face her.

“Oh, it was you,” she blurted.

“Your money was on the boyfriend?” he guessed.

“A little bit,” she confirmed.

“That was probably a safe bet,” he said. “You look like you could use this.” He presented her with a vase filed with water.

“Do you always carry vases of water for unsuspecting women?” she asked, gently depositing each flower lovingly in the water.

“I live my life by a certain code—to protect flowers and keep them from dying,” he said.

“This was sweet and thoughtful and amazing and, some might say, romantic,” she said.

“You sounded not quite yourself last time we talked. I thought you could use a pick-me up,” he said.

“How? How did you do it?” she asked.

“I called in a few favors, some people I’ve worked with in the past who are always up for a bit of fun,” he said.

“And the dog?”

“We were on the same SEAL team before he got transferred,” Ethan said.

“You indexing guys are a laugh riot,” she said, smiling.

“Indexing is a high-stress job. We like to unwind on our downtime,” he said.

“Speaking of work, I thought you were leaving the country today,” she said.

“I’m heading to the airport in,” he grasped her hand and drew it closer, checking her watch. “Ninety minutes.”

“Is your watch broken?” she asked as he maintained his hold on her hand.

“It’s set to military time. So confusing,” he said. By taking her hand, he had inadvertently, or maybe not so inadvertently, moved her closer to the chair until she was right in front of him, their legs touching.

“So,” she said, resisting the urge to slide her arms around his shoulders by reminding herself they were most likely being watched by all of her coworkers and possibly their clients, too.

“So,” Ethan repeated. “I’m here for that consult.”

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