Page 16 of Love in Bloom

Sage advice she’d do well to remember.

The classic sweater needed some oomph. After trying on endless necklaces, Wren settled on a colorful scarf and then spent an inordinate amount of time arranging it into a casual knot. She checked the full-length mirror one more time. She looked like a capable, controlled, responsible adult, the total antithesis of the hot mess of a woman lurking under the surface.

Wren breezed through the doorway of AAS with minutes to spare. “Hi, Wren.” Michelle Swanson greeted her with a big smile. Wren walked over to the receptionist’s desk and tweaked a few of the flowers. It was a Thanksgiving-themed bouquet complete with rust-colored chrysanthemums, miniature sunflowers, and a burlap bow. A few more weeks of fall colors and then she’d switch to traditional holiday colors of red and white. “Occupational hazard, huh?” Michelle asked.

“Yes.” Wren laughed self-consciously. “I can’t help myself.”

“Well, your bouquets are always beautiful and I love getting them every week. We’re set up in the conference room. Follow me back.”

Miller’s eyes widened in surprise. Wren looked lovely, she always did, but this time she looked different. And he didn’t like it. He liked her in snug-fitting jeans and shirts pushed up to her elbows. The sweater she wore looked soft and warm and it hugged her trim figure. Miller focused his eyes on the scarf at her neck. It was either that or stare at her breasts. Who knew she’d been hiding all that under her baggy tops?

He clenched his fists, hoping to cool the memory of when he’d spied her clumsily roll off the lounger at Jackson’s barbeque. She’d exposed plenty of leg and a lack of full-coverage underwear in that maneuver. Miller wondered what other secrets she covered and tightened his fists.

The Wren sitting across the conference table from him was cool and professional. Worst of all, she was amenable, never once pushing back. She did, however, refer to him as Mr. Lynch, but he let it slide since the court reporter was documenting everything. It would be poor form if the witness referred to counsel by their first name. No, they stuck with Mr. Lynch and Ms. Busch. She answered all of his questions easily and confidently. Most important, out of the headshots of various mid-to-late fifties Caucasians, she identified Mr. Nelson as the cash-paying customer. The whole twilight-zone experience took less than ten minutes.

He checked with the court reporter to make sure she had everything.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said, standing behind Wren’s chair. She scooted back and stood up. Miller didn’t move. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Ah, there you are. I was starting to worry.”

“I don’t understand,” Wren admitted.

“You’ve been too easy. I was wondering where the real Wren was.”

“I’m always easy when the people I’m with are reasonable. And this afternoon you were reasonable.”

“I’m always reasonable,” Miller argued, and put a hand on her lower back to steer her out of the conference room. He’d noticed she was wearing heels and it brought the top of her head to just below his nose. Despite his best intentions, he leaned forward. “You smell nice, again,” he murmured as they reached the reception area. Wren turned and looked at him.

“Work, again,” she reminded him coolly, fumbling with her purse. Her words came out frosty, but Miller noticed a tinge on her cheeks.She’s not as indifferent as she acts, he noted with satisfaction.I should strike while the iron’s hot.

“About that second favor,” he led in. Boy, this was harder than he thought. It had been too long since he’d asked someone out. Or too long since it had mattered. Wren stopped her fumbling and looked at him. “Have dinner with me.”

“Are you asking or telling?” Prickly Wren was back in full force.

“I’m asking nicely.” He tried again. “Please have dinner with me.” He watched the various expressions run across her face. Shock. Delight. Refusal.

“Excuse me, Miller, Wren, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Diane Swanson walked toward them without an ounce of remorse in her voice. “Miller, Michelle needs you to interpret some of your notes. You have just enough time to help her before your next appointment.” She tapped Miller’s arm and gave a tight smile to Wren. He couldn’t ignore Diane’s order. She was Michelle’s mother, Bob Swanson’s wife, and the only child of AAS’s founder. Diane acted like thede factooffice manager and was the queen in this kingdom, and all the subjects fell to her command.

Unfortunately, she was in the office a lot now that Michelle worked there. Miller didn’t think she was of much help to Michelle. Diane criticized and hovered. And both women trying to run the office was like having too many cooks in the kitchen. It was impacting AAS’s efficiency and leaving a bad taste in people’s mouths, including employees and a few clients.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Wren said to her shoes. She reached for the door.

Miller reached around her and opened it. “Some other time then,” he said evenly. Delight. He’d seen delight before Diane had interrupted them.

Miller pondered this as he followed Diane back to where Michelle was working. He didn’t know what it was about Wren that appealed to him. She was the opposite of what he liked in a woman. He went more for curvy, easygoing blonds with long hair he could wrap his fists in.

Wren was willowy without many curves. Although the curves in today’s sweater would give him something to remember. Also, no blond ropes. Wren’s hair barely made it into a ponytail. And the color? Red, maybe? He needed to confirm that with Jackson or Parker, since they were the most understanding of his disability. And forget about easygoing. She was about as easygoing as a viper’s nest.

“What can I help you with, Miller?” Michelle smiled up at him as he and Diane entered the back office.

“You have some questions, I believe,” he said.

Michelle looked between her mother and Miller. “No, I think I’ve got this, unlike last month.” She rolled her eyes.

“My mistake. I’ll just leave you two alone,” Diane said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Miller said to Michelle. “It takes a while to learn something new, and you’re a good addition to the office.” He smiled at her and left. Now that she had more experience on the job, she was becoming a good addition. She’d be even better if her mother would leave her alone. She was eager to help, sweet-natured, and had a bit more pep than Mrs. Webster had. Now that he thought about it, Michelle was his usual type. He pictured Michelle in his mind and did a quick body scan. Nope. Nothing. No interest anywhere.

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