Page 11 of Love in Bloom

Millershovedthehardwooden chair back and dropped into it.Thank God it’s Friday, he thought for about the thirteenth time since nine o’clock that morning.

“I’m guessing today wasn’t any better, huh?” Jackson asked over the music. “Take This Job and Shove It” was a Friday night anthem at the Galley and Nelie, the owner, always cranked up the volume for it.

“No.” Miller dropped his head, defeated. It had been an endless day filled with endless problems. Mrs. Webster, their beloved office administrator at AAS, had retired recently. She’d spent the last month training Michelle Swanson as her replacement. Michelle was the granddaughter of the first Anderson, niece of the second Anderson, and the daughter of Swanson. This had been Michelle’s first week flying solo. She hadn’t crashed, but she hadn’t soared, either.

Today the copier broke, his printer ran out of toner with no replacement backup, she’d double-booked two appointments, and she’d spilled coffee on him and his paperwork in front of a client. Next week was billing week. He was sure it would be a disaster.

Jackson relayed Miller’s other problems to their friends when the music reverted to its regular background volume. He’d heard all about them yesterday on their trail run.

“Michelle Swanson,” Croix said. “Wasn’t she a few years behind us in school? Perky blond with a, you know.” Croix used his hands to explain what his mouth couldn’t.

“Large chest? Boobs? Rack? Coconuts? Winnebagos? Take your pick, Croix, there’s lots of words you can use,” Parker said. “Hell’s bells, you’re a grown man and you can’t say it?”

Croix shifted in his seat and mumbled, “I was trying to be polite.”

“Well, you looked stupid.” Parker took a long drink of his beer.

“OK, kids, settle down,” Jackson intoned.

They caught up on each other’s lives and chatted with other friends who stopped at their table. It was good to have the posse, and Will, back in full force. It had been several weeks since Jackson had joined Miller, Croix, and Parker. Miller looked around the Galley and wondered where Emily was. He’d noticed Krista, Rica, and London in their usual booth, but Emily wasn’t with them. Neither was Wren.

Wren, the prickly woman who popped up in his mind at the most inopportune times. Like whenever he walked by the fresh bouquet on Michelle’s desk. Or when he ate a handful of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies from his “anonymous” soccer-mom baker. When he’d remembered her crack about him needing to watch his girlish figure, he’d put the last cookie back in the bag.

He was even reminded of her on his run yesterday. The turning leaves had reminded him of her hair. As a child, he’d had to be told which ones were red.Is she a redhead?he wondered for the umpteenth time and cursed his color blindness. At some point, he needed to suck it up and ask one of the guys to confirm this. He might not know the color, but he knew her hair looked soft and silky, unlike the crunchy, dry leaves he and Jackson had run through.

“Are you in the doghouse?” he asked Jackson, hoping to clear his mind of Wren.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here on a Friday night for the first time since your engagement and Emily’s not, so it only makes sense you did something stupid.”

“Aww, you missed me,” Jackson said and batted his eyelashes at Miller. Miller had missed him, just a tiny bit, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “No, I’m not in the doghouse. In fact, I’ll probably be fiancé of the year if there is such a thing. She’s meeting her mom and sister in The Dells.”

“Why didn’t you go? It’s the water park capital of the world.” Croix sounded confused that Jackson had passed up on a weekend of water fun.

“It’s a ladies’ spa weekend. She’s being pampered and gathering information. We’re thinking of adding spas to a few of the Hart Hotels, and I thought it would be a good idea to have firsthand experience.”

“Yep, they’re booked into a four-star resort and they’ll all have facials, mani-pedis, and massages,” Will said. “I’m interested to hear what Emily thinks of the detox seaweed wrap. Hopefully, she’ll like it enough to forgive me for the aerial silk class I signed them up for.”

“Please tell me you learned about all of this while researching and it wasn’t previous knowledge. Because we may need to revoke your man card,” Croix teased.

“What’s the silk class?” Parker asked.

“You know, those long drapey silk loops suspended from the ceiling that circus performers use? You twist in them and do stunts,” Will explained.

“Will, she’s going to hurt herself. What were you thinking?” Jackson rubbed his face and looked at the ceiling.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry, boss.”

“Sounds like a smart move, Jackson. You get research and a happy fiancée,” Parker said. The men clinked their almost empty bottles together, but Jackson still looked worried. Emily wasn’t known for her athletic abilities.

“So, if Emily’s not mad at you, why do her friends keep glaring at you?” Miller asked, again.

“They’re not glaring at me, buddy, they’re glaring at you,” Jackson answered.

“Me? Why?” Miller was used to people being mad at him. It came with the territory. But while he was comfortable with people being mad at him professionally, he didn’t like it when it was personal. He hadn’t seen Krista or London since Jackson and Emily’s barbeque, so he didn’t understand why they would be mad. And he and Rica had their bi-weekly lunch date yesterday.

Rica was a financial planner and she leased office space at AAS. When she’d first moved in, Miller had taken her out to lunch to get acquainted. Several weeks after that, she’d returned the invitation. It was now a thing, a good thing. Every few weeks they grabbed lunch together. In the summer, they escaped to a food truck and in the winter they tended to brown-bag it in the office kitchen. Rica made it clear she was looking for a friend only, no benefits, and Miller respected that.

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