Page 13 of Love in Bloom

“I’d like the pasta, please.” Wren cleared off the countertop so they could eat there. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she halfheartedly offered.

“No, thanks.” He pulled two bottles of water from the bottom of the bag, handing one to Wren. They ate mostly in silence. Wren walked a fine line between being polite and rude. Miller tried to engage Wren in conversation, but she didn’t cooperate. She answered his questions, but she didn’t elaborate. If a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer worked, that’s all she gave. She also didn’t ask any questions of him. The sooner he left, the better.

“I can’t eat another bite,” Wren admitted, pushing her container away and helping herself to a few of Miller’s French fries. “Is it all right with you if I save the cake until later?”

“Later works.” Miller started to clear away the nearly empty containers. “Should I put our cakes in the cooler, or do you like yours at room temperature?”

“Aren’t you leaving?” Wren asked, panic in her voice.

“Eventually, but not now.”

“Counselor, I appreciate the dinner and the cake, but I need to get back to work. I have a subpoena to address, in case you forgot.”

“I’m staying to help.” Miller rolled up his shirt sleeves. Wren’s eyes zeroed in on his hands and the way his forearm muscles flexed. The lavender color of his crisp dress shirt contrasted beautifully with the exposed soft black hairs on his arm. Wren’s fingers itched to capture the scene, the nuances of the different textures. Maybe later, in the safety of her apartment, she’d play with her colored pencils and try to recreate it. Breathing became difficult as she studied him. She moved toward the back door, hoping he’d follow. He didn’t.

“Why does it feel like you’re always trying to get rid of me?” Miller asked as he finished rolling up his second sleeve.

“Because I am.” Wren slapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t intended to say that out loud. No matter how frustrated she was, that was no excuse for being rude.

“Ouch.” Miller clutched his heart as though he’d been shot. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

“This is my business, I’ll handle it. You’ll be about as useful as a trapdoor in a canoe.” Wren pushed up her sweatshirt sleeves and smiled. She was done being polite.

“That sounded like an insult.”

“Well, bless your heart. You’re smarter than you look.”

“Now, I know that was an insult.” Miller pointed his finger at her and glared. She was thinking of another semi-insult to sling, but Miller spoke first. “Wren, for your sake, I wish I could leave, but the Minnesota Rule of Civil Procedure number forty-five requires me to take reasonable steps to avoid imposing undue burden or expense on a person subject to a subpoena.” Miller rolled his broad shoulders and took a long look at all the paperwork surrounding them. “And, from what I see, this looks like an undue burden.”

Wren leaned against the door, grateful for its support, and glared at him. “You made that up,” she accused.

“Nope. It’s true. Google it.” Miller picked up piles of papers and began moving them around.

Wren rushed over and grabbed the work orders from him before he muddled up her process. She had no choice. She had to work with him. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. Two people working would get through the orders more quickly. And, the quicker they finished, the sooner he could leave. And the sooner he left, the safer she’d be.

“If I’m forced to let you help, let me explain my system,” she said.

“There’s a system?”

“Yes, kind of.” Wren didn’t argue with him on this one. “I’m sure an outside observer would say it sucks.” She wandered around the workroom tidying up the already tidy space. She worked hard to be a successful business owner. The partial admission that her current system was less than adequate was a hit to her pride. “When I took over from my aunt, Wallflowers wasn’t this busy. She kept all the orders by hand. Most shops have computer systems tied to their websites and the national wire services. I didn’t think I’d need one, because I didn’t think I’d be here more than a year.” She looked at Miller to gauge his reaction. She saw curiosity and interest in his eyes and foolishly continued. At the end of the evening, she would blame it on her second glass of wine, conveniently forgetting she had drunk it on a full stomach.

“But I thought you bought Wallflowers.”

“I did. But I didn’t get much. Her customer list was short and most of the equipment was on its last legs.”

“So, no tangible assets?”

“Not really. My aunt had a year left in her lease. She figured it was cheaper to sell the business to me at a rock-bottom price than to pay off the lease. My uncle was being transferred to Phoenix for work, so she had to do something. I bought time and a place to stay.”

“What’s rock bottom going for in the floral industry, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Five dollars.” Wren grinned.

“You paid more in legal fees than you did for the business,” Miller observed.

“Nope. No lawyers. We did everything on a napkin over dinner at the Galley and Nelie witnessed it.”

“I’m shocked and appalled.” Wren laughed at his dramatic, pained expression. “So, owning a successful florist shop wasn’t your life’s ambition?” he asked.

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