“I’m right here.” Isobel emerged from the door behind the counter that led into her workroom. “I could hear you two bickering all the way from the back.”

Nearly three months had passed since my mother’s funeral. It’d been enough time for all of Isobel’s roses to grow back and for her to build up the nerve to try reentering society again to open her business. What I hadn’t counted on was for her to suggest we turn Rosewood into a flower slash custom woodworking shop. Now, along with selling flowers, we built shelves and tables and other assorted woodworks customers requested.

We’d also cleaned out the rooms above the shop and turned it into an apartment where we were currently living together. Henry had grumbled about Isobel moving out, but honestly, we loved it. It might’ve been a step down for her—er, make that about fifty steps down—but it was pretty much happily ever after for the two of us together. I went to bed deliriously happy each night and woke up just as pleased, with Isobel secure in my arms. And from the grin she sent me every time our gazes met, I’d say she was just as content.

As soon as I saved enough money, I was buying her a ring and asking her to marry me.

“So, what’s going on?” Isobel asked as she stopped beside me and rested her cheek on my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her waist, enjoying her warmth and proximity.

Ezra sighed as if dissatisfied with life, then he moodily picked a leaf off a nearby rose plant that was for sale. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “I just needed to see my little sister and de-stress.”

Isobel glanced worriedly at me before turning back to him. “The wicked witch…again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Always.”

“What’d she do this time?”

“What didn’t she do would be a better question.” He took a moment to watch me and Isobel together, his gaze lingering on my hand that stroked lazily up and down her arm. Then he blinked and focused on our faces. “You remember that Halloween party I wanted to throw for all my employees? The one that’s this weekend?”

Isobel and I nodded. He’d only mentioned it every time we talked to him for the past month.

“Yeah. Well, she called both the caterer and band, and canceled them. Just this morning.”

“What?” Isobel set a hand on her chest. “Oh my God, why would she do that?”

“Because she’s evil,” he enunciated. “Pure, unadulterated evil. It took me two hours to find a DJ and another caterer to replace them at the last minute. The party’s in three days. Three days! It cost me four times their regular rates to do a last-minute job like this.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cold,” I admitted.

“Cold!” he exploded. “It’s downright heartless. I can’t put up with her much longer. If I have to keep working with her, I’m just going to…” He shook his head and seemed to deflate. “I don’t even know. I want to throw my hands up and call it quits, have Dad sell out our portion of the company, but then I think of all the employees stuck there with her, and I can’t leave them to handle it alone. I almost think they need me there more than anyone else to keep battling her on their behalf.”

I lifted my brows at such a dramatic proclamation. Then I glanced at Isobel to see if I was the only one who thought he was being a little bit too intense. When I found her glancing back with her eyebrows raised, we both burst into laughter.

> Ezra huffed and glared at us. “What?” he demanded.

“They need you?” Isobel repeated before snickering. “Wow, bro. We didn’t realize you were such a superhero. Should we buy you a cape and tights to go with that complex?”

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled moodily, tugging at his tie. “If you worked there, you’d understand.”

Feeling pity for the guy, since he was clearly at the end of his rope, I patted his arm. “Don’t give up yet, man. I have a good feeling about this. If you stick it out just a little longer, I think you’ll realize it was worth the effort.” Because it usually was. I only had to glance toward Isobel to reaffirm that.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, even though he eyed me as if he totally disagreed.

Isobel opened her mouth to put in her opinion, but the bell above Rosewood dinged again, admitting a new customer.

Even though we’d only been open a month, the guy who entered was a regular. He always ordered three white roses and an apology note for us to deliver to his girlfriend, who worked down the street at the coffee shop.

The three of us hanging out at the counter watched him meander through the woodworking portion of the store first, checking out a quilt rack, then a wooden chessboard table. I have no idea why he always browsed that area before moving to the flowers when he bought the same thing every time he came in. I guessed some habits were hard to break.

“I think that customer’s for you, Hollander,” Ezra said quietly, motioning for me to approach the man and do my job.

But Isobel shook her head. “Nah. He’s here for some flowers.”

Her brother lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, you think, huh? Looks like he’s interested in the woodworking side to me.”

She blinked at him before sniffing. “He’s here for the flowers.”

Ezra narrowed his eyes. “I bet he’s not.”