Page 43 of Wild Flower

“More like eight-hours of sleep,” I quip. “But I’d settle for two.”

“Up all night?” Miranda asks, squinting at me. “The guy your mom set you up with was—?”

I laugh, cutting her off. “Oh no! I ditched him. He was horrendous.”

“Ditched him for—?” Miranda’s face lights up with atell me everythinggrin.

“Later,” I blush, which is enough to make Miranda jump up and down like a schoolgirl with a crush. “After I take that bucket of uppers, and go talk to—” I motion to whoever is in the back of the greenhouse. “Is it a bride?” I ask, taking a giant gulp of coffee which sears down my throat. “Or someone from a corporate office?”

“She didn’t say,” Miranda admits. “But if she’s a bride, that wedding is going to be crazy, and you better book it.” I narrow my eyes in question. “She’s got great shoes and style,” Miranda says with jealousy in her tone. “Just go talk to her.”

I get a weird feeling in my gut, but the headache that’s starting to bud from the bright sunshine makes me shake it off and head toward the back corner of the shop.

The lush smell of greenery and soil helps settle my throbbing skull as I pass the passion flowers with their exotic mandalas of petals. I almost stop to check a bloom with a broken antler in the center of its corona filaments when a flash of ruby-red hair catches my eye.

That niggling feeling flips to alarm. I increase my pace to get a better look. The woman is in pin-up curls, a turquoise dress, and three-inch, polka-dot heels. Miranda was right, she’s dressed to the nines like she’s about to walk onto the set ofBridgerton.

“Good morning,” I say, to announce my arrival. “How can I help—”

The woman I met last night at Flambé swirls around with a wicked smile, and I vaguely remember her saying something about wanting to do a promotion shoot with my flowers.

“Becca!” she exclaims. “This shop is divine! I’ve never seen half of the flowers in my life. They’re incredible.”

“Oh, uh—thank you,” I mumble. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Arie,” she says quickly, before looking me up and down the same way Miranda did. I push the whisps of my messy braid back, regretting that I didn’t put on something nicer this morning. “God,” she exclaims, with that devilish smirk. “Nothing looks better on a woman than an I-don’t-give-a-damn-because-I’m-so-exhausted post-sex hangover, don’t you think? I see my employees treated you well.”

My whole body heats, and I must turn purple because she starts laughing.

“Very well, indeed,” she compliments, her cackling echoing through the whole store. “Not that I’m surprised, you did take hometwoof them. I’m amazed you’re even walking.”

“I’m, uh—” I touch my forehead and it feels like I have a fever. “I’m sorry, is that why you’re here?” I lower my voice. “To make sure Archer and Finn took me out and gave me—”

“Oh, goodness, no!” she exclaims. “Though obviously they got the job done.”

There’s a snap behind me, and I turn to see Miranda only paces away, holding up a bottle of sparkling water. It’s the shop’s policy to offer a beverage to potential brides. A policy I created, and in this moment regret, because Miranda’s jaw is wide as a gaping fish.

“D-did you just say—?” Miranda stutters.

My breath increases. “Yes, uh—,” I mumble, wishing I wasn’t surrounded by thick vines that trap me in this corner. “This is the owner and head chef of Flambé.” I motion to Arie. “Thank you for the water, Miranda.” I grab the bottle out of her hand and offer it to the restaurant owner. Arie takes it kindly, but doesn’t open it.

“My cousin works at Flambé,” Miranda shares, and my heart ratchets even harder. How long has Miranda been standing there? Did she hear me mention I went out with Archer and her cousin?

“Really?” Arie fishes, looking between me and my employee with a sly smile. “And who might your cousin be?”

“It’s Finn,” I cut in, catching Arie’s eye and hoping she doesn’t tell my friend about the ultimatum she gave her cousin to keep his job.

Arie’s eyebrows raise. “Finn?” Her eyes spark like one of the drinks in her restaurant, igniting. “He’s a good, reliable worker. He likes to please.” Her smile curls even higher. “And usually he follows the rules.”

Arie uncaps the fizzy water with a hiss, winking at me before taking a drink. Miranda’s eyes scour me, and I don’t know if she saw that wink or not.

“I’m sorry, did you want to order some flowers?” I ask, trying to refocus the conversation.

“Yes.” Arie nods. “Do you have a portfolio of arrangements I can look at? I was serious last night when I mentioned doing a promotional shoot for the restaurant.”

“Last night?” Miranda asks, her eyes narrowing toward Arie.

“Uh, yes,” I interject, turning to Miranda. “I met Arie at Flambé last night after I, uh—” Do I mention ditching Carl in front of Arie? I shake myself and point to the front desk. “Can you grab the arrangement portfolio, Miranda? It’s by the register.”

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