No Flowers Required (15 page)

His eyes fired with interest. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned as Nellie reemerged from the bathroom, sash miraculously still in place. “You could help us.”

By the end of the afternoon, she had to hand it to Dillon. He didn’t give in easily.

He stuck with her and Nellie, fumbling through making boutonnieres. They consisted of a red carnation, a spray of greenery, and baby’s breath, wrapped tight with green floral tape and finished off with a small yellow bow. She and Nellie could fly through them, mainly because their fingers were nimble and quick. But Dillon, who worked with his hands day in and day out, seemed all thumbs.

That he had to take half a dozen phone calls didn’t help with his learning curve. The guy was in serious demand. He must be doing much better as a handyman than she’d assumed. Considering his amazing business sense it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

More than once she asked him if he needed to leave, but he waved her off. And then answered another call.

Finally they settled into a routine. Dillon worked without complaint, even occasionally singing along in a falsetto to the songs in Nellie’s pop mix CD.

A couple times, customers wandered in and usually wandered out just as quickly. One of them left behind a ripped-out page from a women’s magazine that she’d probably return for later. It depicted a fall arrangement that looked like a home art project: a vertical foam cone wrapped in glittery leaves and streamers, with yellow and orange blooms behind it. Not the kind of thing Divine carried, that was for sure. They kept everything high-end. Too high-end, some claimed, like the magazine clutcher from that afternoon.

And that was even
after
she’d put out the little teaser items on the front counter as Dillon had suggested.

“Cute, isn’t it?” Dillon picked up the page Alexa had tossed aside. “Looks fun to make.”

“You had trouble with a simple boutonniere.”

“I got the hang of it eventually. You underestimate the skill involved in what you do.”

“You twist a couple stems together and wind in a ribbon. No skill involved.” All right, so that wasn’t true. She needed to get over her low self-confidence thing. She’d never had that problem before the past year.

“So wrong.” Idly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze still on the craft project. “These could really drive in traffic. They’d be cheaper, and the customer could customize them depending on the flower they chose. You could do all kinds of things with them. I know, my—” He broke off, his Adam’s apple jerking. “I bet my mom would love one.”

Disturbed he’d arrived at the place she hadn’t felt comfortable going herself, she snatched back the magazine. “This looks like something a grocery store would sell.”

“Maybe. But that’s because it’s accessible.” He rested his hand on the small of her back. “In this economy, that’s what people want. They want pretty things just like anyone else, but they can’t afford to spend a lot of money on them. So you appeal to every kind of customer, then when their money situation improves, they’ll be back.”

Logical. She couldn’t deny that. But right now, she wanted to be stubborn.

Still, what would it hurt to do a couple of them and put them on the counter? Thanks to her trip to the craft store the other day, she had the stuff for the fall window displays she hadn’t made yet. This would actually work perfectly with what she had on hand, and she could add her own flair to this basic design. All she’d need to get were the foam cones, or something similar.

Why not give it a shot?

She glanced at her watch. A few hours ’til closing meant they’d have to do something to keep busy, since they’d already finished with everything on her agenda for the afternoon. Including the boutonnieres.

“Thank you for your help,” she said, turning at the sound of the cold case closing. Nellie had finally put away all the flowers, so they’d be moist and fresh for Haven Prep’s formal tomorrow night. The party coordinator would be coming by bright and early Saturday to pick them up, though Alexa could tell she’d doubted a shop the size of Divine could get the job done. But Alexa had been prepared to pull out all the stops, even calling in her parents and Jake if necessary.

Luckily she and Nellie—and Dillon—had gotten the job done just fine.

“You’re welcome. Even though I suck.” His sulky expression made her grin.

She cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a quick kiss. “You blew off your whole afternoon to stay here with us and I know you had a ton of stuff to do. I really appreciate it.”

“No biggie.”

“Will you get in trouble for not being available?”

Something slipped through his gaze before he shifted to kiss her fingertips. Just that simple gesture set her toes tingling. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I’m actually due back at a donor house this afternoon. Remember that roof I mentioned yesterday? I do volunteer work as part of the Helping Hands charity.” She didn’t quite get why his voice lowered, and his brows pulled tight. “A lot of work for them actually. They provide houses for disabled vets or disadvantaged families, as a way to help get them back on their feet.”

Warmth blossomed in her chest. He must have an understanding boss, if he let Dillon fit in volunteer work around his regular duties. Unless Dillon was self-employed. He’d never said. “That’s great. If you need to go, it’s okay. I have Nellie.”

She glanced up as Nellie rushed toward them, cell clutched in one hand. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Jake’s coming by any minute and he scored tickets to tonight’s show at the civic center. It’s a knockoff of Cirque du Soleil. I’ve been dying to go, but it’s been sold out forever.”

“No problem.” Alexa smiled and mentally shifted her plans. So much for picking up the foam things. She couldn’t leave the store unattended. “Have a good time. And thanks again for all your help. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I can handle the store on my own tomorrow. Enjoy the show, and I’ll see you Monday.”

“Awesome. Thanks. Have a good weekend.” Nellie looked between them, her brows drawing together. “Both of you.”

Dillon’s phone beeped. “Sorry,” he said, glancing at the readout. “Duty calls.”

Alexa nodded and affixed a bright smile onto her face. Boy, he was definitely a wanted man, and not just by her. “Sure thing. I’m good.”

He frowned at the moody gray sky beyond the front windows. “Where’d the sun go?”

“We’re due for storms tonight.”

“It’s been one after another lately. You have a generator here?”

She didn’t know whether to growl or smile at the concern in his tone. “Yes.” With a light shove, she nudged him toward the door. “Go do your manly thing.”

His mouth crooked into a half-smile as he looked back at her. Lingeringly. “I’ll be back at eight. Wait for me.”

“I will.” She returned his smile—and his kiss when he bent to brush his mouth over hers. She shut the door behind him, her smile spreading. A night with Dillon promised to be very interesting indeed.

…

One night turned into two. Then three. Somehow before she knew it, they’d spent a whole series of nights together. He usually didn’t get to her place until late since he seemed to work all the damn time. That he arrived fresh from a shower and usually with the glow of the sun on his cheeks was a happy bonus.

It wasn’t just about the sex either. They talked. And laughed. God, did they laugh. Night before last she’d helped him put together a scale model of his Harley-Davidson, and he’d helped her decorate her apartment a little more. Which had mostly consisted of nailing pictures and kissing and more nailing…

Last night he hadn’t been able to get away from the donor house he was working on, so she’d kept busy making arrangements to fill the hours he wasn’t around. Not that she’d noticed his absence or anything. She’d—wisely, it turned out—followed through on his suggestion for the fall design. She’d already had to make more cones twice over, so she raised the price by fifteen percent. It was still more than reasonable, proven by how fast they sold out.

By Wednesday afternoon, she’d made half a dozen more with Nellie’s help, plus a couple specialty ones with fancier flowers, more greenery and a slightly inflated price tag. Travis did a splashy poster for the front window—she shuddered only a little—and they sat back to wait for more customers.

They came, with money in their outstretched fists.

It was freaking unreal. She needed to implement some of Dillon’s other suggestions in a hurry, since the guy clearly knew what he was doing. Must be a natural at business or something.

Alexa faced her web designer with her hands on her hips. “I need that site done,” she said in her sternest voice, unwilling to be fazed by Travis’s slightly adoring gaze. “I want it launched within two weeks. There’s online business we’re missing.”
And that way if this place gets foreclosed, I’ll still have a storefront.
But she didn’t say that.

“I’m on it.”

“And that newsletter we talked about?”

His puppy dog look made her sigh inwardly. “On that too.”

“What about those sales projections for next spring? Were you able to input them?”

“Once I figured out your chicken scratch, yeah. The graph you set up is pretty sweet. Makes it almost effortless.”

More points for the handyman. “Thanks, Trav. I appreciate it.”

Once Travis disappeared into the back, she sighed happily. Things were going well. So well, in fact, that when the phone rang and she snatched it up, she almost chirped her standard greeting.

“Hey, princess.”

A grin stole across her face at Dillon’s voice. “Hey, stranger.”

“How are you? You sound happy. Business going okay?”

“Better than okay. Fabulous actually.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“I’d rather tell you in person.” She heard a muffled yell behind him and slitted her eyes. “If you can get away.”

He swore under his breath and she heard a muted conversation take place between him and someone else, presumably the yeller. “I’d love to, but we need to put the finishing touches on this place today. There’s this benefit coming up…they want to unveil photos of the finished house.”

“The Helping Hands benefit,” she said, smiling at Travis as he waved and headed out. “It’s all over town.” The yearly gala was a pretty big deal. Amazing that the house Dillon had been busting his ass on was going to be featured. Equally amazing that he gave back so much to the community.

She resisted a little sigh. He made her stomach quiver. Either that or the soup she’d had at lunch was off. But no, it was Dillon. Had to be.

His pause hung heavily on the line until he hissed out another oath. “Yes. Hang on a sec, baby. All hell’s breaking loose here.”

“Sure.”
Baby
. He’d called her baby. And she wasn’t screaming at the term. Clearly she’d made major progress.

Or else she’d reached the point of no return. Next they’d be spooning and calling to say “I lo—like you” just because.

“Okay, sorry. It’s always nuts at the end.”

“I can see you tomorrow—”

“No. I already missed a night.”

She couldn’t suppress her grin. So he’d missed her too.

“Can you come by the house later? When the store closes?”

“Your house?” This was big. They hadn’t quite made it there yet. Maybe the place was tiny or rundown or something, though with his skills she didn’t see how that could be possible. He could probably turn a shed into a chalet.

“No, the donor house. I’d like to show you around. If you’re into it,” he added, suddenly nonchalant.

Her smile grew. “I’m into it,” she said softly and wrote down the address he gave her.

After closing, she went upstairs to her apartment and packed a soft-sided cooler with her brass candlesticks, a checkered tablecloth, and an alfresco meal for two. She had no idea if the house had room for them to have a picnic, but she’d love to share a meal with him outdoors even if it took place on the tailgate of his pickup.

She grinned at her reflection in her rearview mirror as she put her car in gear. Imagine that. Alexa Elizabeth Conroy, picnicking and pickupping with a guy she was sort of in a relationship with. Who’d’ve thunk it?

Falling for Dillon—and she couldn’t deny she was, because even accomplished self-deluders had to have a break-even point—had been the easiest thing she’d ever done. Somehow he’d been there to shore her up when she’d started to crack, and for that she owed him. Hell, it was partially due to him that she’d gotten such an insanely amazing job that afternoon and would be working her ass off to meet her deadline.

Her mouth curved. She intended to show him her gratitude handsomely tonight.

She found her way to the house and parked at the end of the drive behind a sprawling motorcycle. There were no other vehicles around. No noises of construction workers, which she had to admit she was a little disappointed about. Considering she’d never been to a work site before, it seemed just cruel for her not to get to see at least one buff, sweaty man.

Hauling the strap of her cooler over her shoulder, she shut the door and glanced down at herself. Her pencil skirt and off-the-shoulder top probably weren’t the best for picnicking. At least she’d thought of bug spray, which she’d applied liberally after slathering her bare shoulders, neck, and face with sunscreen. It had to be ninety degrees in the shade.

Then Dillon stepped out of the backyard, a long length of wood over one shoulder, and she learned what a hot flash really was.

“Hey.” He grinned and stopped short, eyeing the cooler she held before turning his attention to her. “Damn, woman, are you trying to make me drool?”

“Fancy talker.” She walked over to him and lifted her hand to his cheek. His eyes were so blue, like twin lasers that could see right through her. “You’re all sweaty.”

Apparently he took that as a suggestion to back off, but she snagged a handful of his wifebeater and tugged him right back. “Don’t mind that?” he asked, setting down the lumber.

“I’d like to rub against you like a kitten in the sunshine. Unless you consider that weird. In that case, then yes.” She gave a fake shudder. “Please don’t sweat on me.”