Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

“I took the day off,” Dylan said in between bites of his sandwich.

  “That must be nice,” Brooke said, without thinking.

  “Not really,” Dylan replied. “I’m swamped with work, but after my third ex-girlfriend showed up at work, I figured I wasn’t going to get anything done anyway, so I took the entire day off to solve the problem.”

  “Oh,” Brooke said with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where do you work?” Brooke asked, suddenly realizing that she didn’t know. She’d always seen him wearing a suit, but didn’t know what his profession was.

  “I manage investments at a bank,” Dylan replied.

  Brooke bit her bottom lip nervously. “Well, I can see why you didn’t want ex-girlfriends in the bank making a scene.”

  “Yes, that sort of thing is usually frowned upon,” Dylan said, a hint of humor in his eyes. “It may have been okay, however, if you had been around to rescue me.”

  Brooke froze, her mouth full of sandwich.

  Before she could manage to swallow and ask him what he meant, he continued. “Thank you for stepping up and helping with Celeste’s nana,” his gray eyes were almost warm, yet they sparkled with something like admiration. “You didn’t lie to her, but it’s like you completely rewrote what happened in her mind. You told her a different story of what should have happened if I’d been given a second chance to send the flowers. You smoothed things over better than I ever could have. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Brooke said, unable to stop the thrill of pleasure at his praise. “But I don’t know that your thanks are deserved. After all, my mistake is what put you in that uncomfortable position to begin with.”

  “That may have been true initially, but with the way you worked your magic, the situation is much better than if Celeste had never received that accidental bouquet. If those flowers hadn’t been sent, I would have never sought Celeste or her nana out, and Nana would have continued to resent me.”

  “That’s a rough way to get a little closure,” Brooke said with a smile.

  “Yes, it is, but so far, you’ve managed to leave the situation better than you found it for two of my exes.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Brooke cautioned. “I think you still have quite a list for me. You may still need to retract all thanks before this is over.”

  Dylan smiled, and Brooke’s heart skipped a beat. With the way his eyes sparkled as they crinkled just a bit and his teeth flashed a quick hello to a set of deep dimples, all Brooke could think about was wanting him to smile again.

  “I don’t think I’ll have to do that,” Dylan said easily, “but I won’t pretend my covey of girlfriends isn’t a colorful lot.”

  “So who is next on the list?” Brooke asked, taking out the paper from her purse. Getting back on task was a good thing. Dylan saying nice things to her did such strange things to the rhythm of her heart that she much preferred putting those little checkmarks by the names on her list and maintaining a comfortable dislike for the man.

  “Well, across the street—”

  “Dylan, sweetums, it is you!” a voice gushed about a half second before a blonde form with long, bare legs threw herself at Dylan and planted her lips on his.

  Brooke was startled at first, but seeing the shocked look on Dylan’s face as he was very thoroughly kissed made her suddenly find the whole thing funny. She even tucked her list back into her purse, figuring that she could spare a few moments to just enjoy the show.

  “I knew you’d come,” the woman said, finally coming up for air and settling into his lap. “Thank you for the flowers. I knew you never meant it when we broke up. And then your flowers came, and I knew for sure that we are meant to be together.”

  Dylan shifted awkwardly and tried to push the woman off his lap, but she laced her arms around his neck and clung.

  “It isn’t what you think, Kiffany!” he cried. “There’s been a mistake.”

  “I know! I knew it was a mistake when we broke up. I just love you so, so much, sweetums!”

  Dylan let out a strangled gag as Kiffany covered his face with kisses.

  “Brooke, I could use a little help here!” he managed in between kisses.

  “I think you’ve met your rescue quota for the day, Dylan,” Brooke said, idly munching potato chips. “I think I’m going to sit this one out and just enjoy the show.”

  Dylan glared at her, and she just popped another chip in her mouth.

  “Kiffany,” Dylan said, wriggling so much that Kiffany’s bare legs shot up in the air like two chopsticks. “I need to tell you something.”

  Not seeming disturbed at all, Kiffany managed to land her legs in the same position they’d been before, draped around Dylan’s leg. “Yes, sweetums?” Kiffany said, backing off to give him a little air, but still keeping her arms secure around his neck. By the eager look on her glamorous face, she looked as if she fully expected him to declare words of love and devotion.

  Dylan tilted his head toward Brooke. “Kiffany, I’d like you to meet Brooke Hutchins—my girlfriend.”

  Brooke choked on her chip, it’s crispy ridges lodging in her throat. Coughing, sputtering, and gagging for the next thirty seconds finally brought a little relief. She grabbed her soda and took several swallows to clear her airway. Then, with a hoarse voice, she squawked, “I am NOT his girlfriend!”

  Dylan raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Kiffany looked at her with trepidation, as if not knowing what to think. Dylan had forced her hand, and now there was nothing she could do except rescue him from the Barbie on his lap.

  After taking another sip of soda, she spoke, raspy threads still lining her voice. “Let’s see, your name is Kiffany?” Removing the list from her purse again, she ran her finger down the names. “Kiffany Kline?”

  Kiffany nodded.

  “Oh, yes, I remember you,” Brooke said, recalling her last delivery of the day. “I delivered a bouquet of flowers to your office by accident yesterday. I’m a florist, and there was a huge mix-up where orders from the past year were repeated. I’m really sorry, but the flowers you received weren’t from Dylan. They weren’t from anyone. It was an accidental order.”

  Kiffany slid off Dylan’s lap. Standing, she readjusted her skimpy red dress and then tucked her heavily highlighted blonde hair behind her ear. She looked at Brooke coldly, even though tears were pooling in her eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she hissed. Then turning to Dylan, her expression turned to pleading. “Why are you doing this, Dylan? Why torture me by sending me flowers and then pretending that you didn’t? Please just stop with the jokes and take me somewhere we can get caught up.” After sending one last glare Brooke’s direction, she cuddled back up to Dylan.

  Dylan shot out of his chair as if he’d just been doused with ice water.

  “Kiffany, I’m telling you the truth. See, you can look at the list yourself. These were all of the deliveries that went out yesterday. Here is your name. You see the date? These are all of Dylan’s orders from the past year, and every person on this paper received a repeat order yesterday.”

  Kiffany grabbed the paper out of Brooke’s hand. “All of these women got flowers from Dylan yesterday?”

  “Y-Yes,” Brooke replied hesitantly, not liking the sudden look of anger on Kiffany’s face.

  “Destiny Montague?” she burst, her hand shaking as it held the paper. “Celeste Davenport? You sent Shauna Waterson flowers, too? Shauna, really? And Destiny is a conniving, back-stabbing… How could you send those women flowers?”

  The little tableau had long since attracted the attention of everyone in the small sandwich shop. But now they all seemed to lean forward, watching with breathless anticipation the scene that seemed straight out of a soap opera.

  “Well, I didn’t actually send them flowers yesterday,” Dylan clarified, seeming lost in how to calm her down. “Well, I did, but not intentionally.”

  Brooke stood as well. “Kiffany, it was very much my fault—”

 
The sound of Kiffany’s hand slapping across Dylan’s face sucked all the air from the room. An eerie hush fell for the beat of several seconds.

  Then Kiffany gritted out, “I want nothing to do with a womanizer who would send flowers to Shauna Waterson!” Holding her head high, she marched out of the sandwich shop, her red high heels clicking sharply against the tile.

  Less than ten seconds after Kiffany’s exit, Dylan whispered. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Brooke grabbed her list of names off the floor where Kiffany had crumpled and thrown it. Then they hurriedly gathered their trash from the table and threw it in the trash can on the way out. Brooke felt Dylan’s touch at her elbow in an almost protective gesture.

  His feet moving rapidly, she saw him scan the whole area. She knew he was watching for Kiffany, but she was nowhere in sight.

  “I don’t think she quite understood,” Brooke said worriedly, longing to reach up and wipe away the angry red mark from his cheek.

  Dylan shook his head. “No, she didn’t. But that isn’t surprising. Don’t let it bother you. You can’t reason with someone who is irrational.”

  Reaching a crosswalk, Dylan’s hand moved from her elbow to the small of her back as they crossed.

  “Three days,” he said, holding up three fingers. “I dated Kiffany for three days. We went on one date and had a nice time. However, she seemed to have a bit of a love you/hate you attitude toward me, so the next day, I sent her flowers, hoping to smooth her already ruffled feelings. That was a mistake. She became intensely attached to me, and by the next day, I couldn’t take it. I bailed, completely terrified of Kiffany’s ‘Fatal Attraction’ type mentality.”

  They entered an office building and headed toward the stairs.

  “So it isn’t surprising that she reacted the way she did,” Dylan said with a sigh. “I don’t know that we could have handled it any differently. Rational thought isn’t her strong suit.”

  “Wait a minute,” Brooke said, stopping on the stairs. She’d suddenly realized where they were. “Isn’t this the way to Kiffany’s work?” She distinctly remembered this office building and the eye doctor’s office on the second floor. This was where she’d delivered Kiffany’s flowers just yesterday.

  “Yes, that’s why we need to hurry,” Dylan urged, taking a couple steps without Brooke. “Kiffany is still on lunch break, so we need to do it before she gets back.”

  “Do what?” Brooke asked, completely mystified.

  “Talk to my girlfriend.”

  Brooke shook her head. “Your girlfriend? You mean, your current girlfriend?” Brooke had no idea why she’d never considered the possibility of him having a current girlfriend, which was silly of her. With as many exes as he had, it would be more shocking for him to not be dating someone. But, for some reason, the thought of Dylan in an existing relationship bothered her.

  “Yes, and I need you to talk to her,” Dylan insisted. “The only order that was not filled yesterday was the one that I’d actually wanted! I’d ordered roses for my current girlfriend, and she never received them. From her texts, I gather that she’s heard of at least some women getting flowers from me yesterday, and she is not happy about it. So I need you to explain that she was actually the only one who was supposed to get flowers from me!”

  Feeling dazed, Brooke followed Dylan the rest of the way up the stairs, as if on autopilot.

  But at the door to the eye doctor’s office, she once again found her voice. “Wait a minute. Your current girlfriend works in the same office as Kiffany, your ex-girlfriend?”

  “Well, kind of,” Dylan admitted reluctantly. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

  He pushed the door open for Brooke, and she went inside the office. Dylan hurried to the front desk and called to an older woman standing by the copy machine at the back. “I need to speak with Dr. Stevens.”

  “Your girlfriend is the eye doctor?” Brooke whispered fiercely.

  “Yes,” Dylan said, sending her a look that said he had no idea why this information was significant to her. “Dr. Monica Stevens.”

  “I’m sorry,” the lady behind the desk replied. “The entire office is on lunch. She isn’t available right now.”

  “Oh, I’m not a patient,” Dylan explained. “Can you please just tell her that Dylan Masters is here?”

  While the woman was obviously not happy about her task, she headed back into the recesses of the office.

  “You are dating your ex-girlfriend’s boss?” Brooke hissed, as soon as the other woman was out of hearing range. “Isn’t that wrong?”

  “Well, it is when you put it like that!” Dylan said with irritation. “I went on one date with Kiffany. One. I don’t think that earns her the title of ‘ex-girlfriend.’ What was I supposed to do? Not date anyone else who might know the woman I went on one date with several months ago?”

  “I don’t even see Monica Stevens on the list,” Brooke said, inspecting the list of accidental orders for the hundredth time. She smoothed out the wrinkles on the paper as if she could find the missing name in the folds.

  “Of course she isn’t,” Dylan snapped. “I already explained it. You managed to send everyone flowers, but didn’t fulfill the order I actually placed.”

  With an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach, Brooke realized Dylan was right. If Monica was on the list, then flowers would have been delivered to her. The basic problem was that her name should have been the only one on the list. Instead, there was an abundance of the wrong orders from the past year.

  Brooke felt like an idiot. She knew Dylan had already explained the mix-up to her, but she hadn’t understood. This whole time, she had been so focused on her list and fixing all of those accidental orders. It didn’t even occur to her that some of Dylan’s orders may not have been on the list at all.

  It made her want to cry. It really did seem like she’d not gotten a single order correct yesterday. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to stay in control and not let the tears escape.

  “Brooke,” came a soft voice. The anger was suddenly gone and instead there was a gentleness that urged her to open her eyes. “Brooke, I’m so—”

  “Dylan, why don’t you come on back, and we can talk in my office,” came a pleasant-sounding voice.

  Brooke’s eyes popped open to see a pretty brunette with glasses and a white lab coat.

  “Thank you, Monica,” Dylan said. With a slight touch to the small of her back, he urged Brooke ahead of him.

  Down the hall, Dr. Stevens opened a door and let them into a small, but nicely furnished office. A rich, wood desk stood on one end of the room against a backdrop of heavily laden bookshelves. A long couch took up the wall on the opposite wall.

  As soon as the door shut behind them, Brooke held out her hand, “HI, I’m Brooke Hutchins. I’m the florist at Crossroads Floral, and yesterday we had a series of mistakes, one of which affected you.” With the threat of Kiffany arriving back from her lunch break, Brooke wanted to make the apologies quickly and get out of here. She had no more desire to film another episode with Kiffany than Dylan did.

  “I’m Monica Stevens,” the doctor replied, shaking Brooke’s hand firmly.

  Quickly, Brooke continued. “Yesterday, Dylan Masters placed an order for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to you. However, there was a mix-up, and the orders that were printed for delivery included every order from the past year instead, excluding yours. I don’t understand how it happened, but I do know numerous women received flowers from Dylan—flowers that he did not order—while the one woman he did order flowers for, did not receive them. All of this mess was entirely my responsibility, and my fault. I am trying to make personal apologies to everyone affected. I am so, so sorry for the confusion and that you did not receive the flowers intended for you.”

  Monica nodded. “Thank you for explaining, and for your apology. I heard that there had been some mix-up with the local florist. I saw people talking about it on social media, and then I read the s
tatement from Crossroads Floral that accidental orders had been sent out. But I didn’t know I was affected by the mistakes. Nor did I realize that Dylan had been affected, or that the women I’d heard who received flowers from him were not actually intended recipients.”

  Brooke’s heart fell. She didn’t know that Helen had made an official statement about yesterday. With the number of errors and the likelihood that the small town rumor mill would be running wild, it certainly made sense. But Brooke also knew that any statement Helen made would not present her in a favorable light.

  “So are we good then?” Dylan asked. “Can I still pick you up around 7:00 tonight?”

  Monica nodded and smiled. “Of course. And for my part, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions instead of asking you or doing my own investigation.”

  Dylan reached for Monica’s hand, and Brooke turned for the door. While she hadn’t minded watching Kiffany’s one-sided advances of affection, she had no desire to see Dylan and Monica be affectionate. “I’ll wait for you at the front of the office,” she said hurriedly, not even sparing a glance back as she opened the door and exited.

  Brooke breathed a sigh of relief as she headed back down the hallway to the reception area. For the first time all day, one of her apologies had gone quickly and smoothly, with no drama. And she was so very thankf—

  “What are you doing here?”

  The strident voice instantly froze Brooke.

  Kiffany was back from her lunch break.

  Brooke wet her dry lips nervously, “Umm… well… I had to see Dr. Stevens,” she finally answered simply.

  “Oh,” Kiffany answered with a possible hint of relief. “You mean, you were here for an eye appointment?”

  “Well, no.” As much as she’d like to lie and give Kiffany what she’d like to hear, Brooke just couldn’t do it. “There was another mix-up with a floral order, and I had to make an apology to Dr. Stevens as well.”

  Obviously deep in thought, Kiffany came into the office more from where she stood at the door and then headed around the corner to stand near her desk. “Oh, you mean Dr. Stevens also received flowers that no one really ordered?”