Page 91 of Laurels and Liquor

Progress at the Garden is steady, and I’ve been told that a summer completion date isn’t unrealistic, barring any complications. I’ve started working with Lex to hire staff, and she keeps pushing me to book my first events, but I put my foot down. Until I have a confirmed date, I won’t commit to even hosting a child’s birthday party, let alone something as big as a wedding. A lot of the things I’d learned years ago have come back the more I work on this project, and some of the most important lessons were about managing clients’ expectations. If you’re going to promise something, you better be able to provide. Maybe my tune will change once the painting is done, but right now, the entire inside of the building is a maze of scaffolding and plastic sheeting. I did have to give a tour to some local journalists, for the Everton Review, and the TV News station, but I can’t say I enjoyed the experience. Still, the press coverage is positive and good for business, so I’ll just have to grin and bear it. Though I did secretly ask about hiring a public relations manager, so I can focus on the things that I’m actually qualified to do.

Spring comes with its usual bouts of spontaneous thunderstorms and muggy weather, but it’s all worth it to see the trees lining State Street in full bloom. I pull up outside the new Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe, smiling to myself. Gabby and Wila have been busting their asses to get this place up and running in time for wedding season, and their hard work finally paid off. It was weird waking up on a Saturday in March, knowing full well there’s a wedding on the calendar and not heading into the shop to load up the truck before sunrise. But from what I’d heard, my former employer wasn’t without help. Jason refused Lex’s job offer, not wanting a handout, but instead agreed to work with Wila to help balance her books and prepare the inventory for the opening. He’d only managed a day of number crunching before Wila, in her usual fashion, strong-armed him into working the floor while she and Gabby handled a delivery. Then, before he knew it, Jason had a sky-blue apron of his own, and was out at Bright Hills, distributing centerpieces and pinning boutonnieres on groomsmen. Now, I can see my brother through the front window, filling up the pre-made bouquet display.

After cutting the engine, I dash inside, making sure to lock the car behind me. Once inside, the fragrant scent of dozens of flowers fills my lungs like a hug from an old friend. Jason looks up from his task and gives me a warm grin and a nod, which I return. Gabby comes out from the back room, smiling brightly as she hops the counter and bounds over to meet me halfway. She scoops me up in a tight hug, and I can’t help but melt into her a little before we pull apart and settle onto stools around the register.

“I saw that article, babe. And Gran called up everyone and their brother to make sure they saw your segment on Channel 5,” Gabby starts, dark eyes sparkling.

I flush, but roll my eyes. “I was so awkward. I didn’t know what to do with my hands half the time,” I complain, trying for levity.

Gabby cackles at my misery. “To anyone who doesn’t know you, the interview looked perfectly professional. But you looked about ready to pass out.”

“Yeah, no kidding. If I have to do another one of those anytime in the next century, it’ll be too soon,” I scoff, and Gabby laughs more.

Jason goes back to his task, but I catch the proud little smile he’s wearing. He’s too much of a “man’s man” to ever admit it out loud, but I know he’s over the moon about what I’m doing with my pack. He was the one I’d always cast as my assistant when I planned teddy bear weddings growing up, after all. His own situation might not be as rosy as mine at the moment, but I know he’s happy I’m finally able to achieve my dream.

Gabby’s phone goes off, and she lets out an annoyed huff as she reads the message, typing out a furious reply before chucking the device onto the glass-topped counter. I give her a questioning look, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s just Wes. You’d think that boy’d get the hint after a while, but he’s been blowing up my DMs for weeks. Some guys are so dense,” she says, with only a slight hint of dramatic flare.

“I thought he was seeing what’s-her-face? Deanna?” I reply, confused.

“Daniella, and yeah. They’re still together, but he keeps talking about how he “misses the good times we had” and “he knows he fucked up” but “thinks we could really be something.” Like, come on, dude,” Gabby says, aggressively finger quoting his bullshit lines.

I’m about to respond when Jason storms by, wheeling the cart through the door to the workroom with an unusual amount of force. And I swear I hear him growling low in his chest. I look at Gabby with raised eyebrows, but she rolls her eyes.

“I have half a nerve to send his girl screenshots of all the thirsty messages this prick keeps sending me,” Gabby goes on, completely ignoring my silent question.

We chat a little bit more about Gabby’s love life, and I keep waiting for Jason to come back out and join the conversation. But as the minutes stretch, and as he bangs around in the workroom, my curiosity grows until the point where I can’t keep it contained any longer. I wait until the backdoor opens before leaning close toward Gabby.

“What the hell is up with Jason?” I whisper frantically.

Gabby blinks at me, all innocent confusion, but I’m not buying it. I give her a hard look, and she sighs.

“I don’t know, Lyds. He’s staying in my fucking guest room, for crying out loud. But even before that, we talked all the time. But every time I bring up one of my exes, he gets his panties in a twist and acts like a fucking caveman. I don’t need that kind of energy in my life,” Gabby says, glancing over her shoulder toward the door.

I sigh and hold back the urge to roll my eyes. I want to point out that he’s an alpha, and “caveman” is basically their second nature, but she doesn’t need a lesson in designation mechanics right now. And I don’t think it would be helpful for me to point out that this is pretty much exactly how Jason acted whenever I mentioned I had a crush growing up. He’d start stomping around, listing all the horrible things about the objects of my infatuation and, more than once, he even scared a few off before I could even have a chance. Gabby has always been the more romantically inclined one in our friendship, and if my instincts are correct, she’ll see that this isn’t just friendly protectiveness soon enough.

“But enough about me. How’s your harem?” Gabby redirects, propping her chin up on her fist, elbow on her knee.

I shove her a little in jest, and we share a laugh, and conversation flows. It hits me again how this used to be my life before I met Pack Saint Clair. My best friend and I would chat away for hours, about anything and everything, before I’d go home alone to my empty studio apartment, pretending I was just fine with the way my life was going. It’s been a year, almost to the day, since Rhett walked into my life and changed it forever, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Almost as if summoned by my thoughts, my phone buzzes in my pocket, a message from the man himself on my screen.

Rhett: I’m done for the day, love. When you’re ready, meet me at Wickland House?

Me: Yes, sir.

Rhett: Good girl. See you soon xo

I don’t stay much longer, as it’s almost closing time and I have a date. Jason reemerges long enough to say goodbye, but he ducks out again, mumbling something about invoices to avoid having to answer my pointed looks.

As I make the short drive over to Wickland House, my stomach twists and untwists itself over and over in eager anticipation. Rhett and I haven’t really had a night alone together in a few months, not that either of us has really complained about the quality time our pack has been spending together. Still, it’ll be the first time in a while that we’re going to play alone. By the time I pull into one of the reserved parking spaces, my mind is whirring. I grin as I see Lucas’s car, the one Rhett is borrowing for the time being, already parked outside. I manage to contain myself as I stride through the lobby, making a conscious effort not to pace or bounce as I wait for the elevator doors to open and close, whisking me upward toward what I have planned for this evening.

Chapter forty-seven

Rhett

I’dforgottenhowmuchI love spending one-on-one time with Lydia. Lucas and I have had time to reconnect after my house arrest, but I’ve had to share Lydia more often than not with the rest of my pack. Not that I mind, because I know how happy it makes her to have all of us close. But nights like this, when we curl up on the couch together and talk and relax without worrying about anyone or anything diverting our attention away, are rare, which only makes me treasure this moment more.

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