by Harte, Marie
Also by Marie Harte
THE MCCAULEY BROTHERS
The Troublemaker Next Door
How to Handle a Heartbreaker
Ruining Mr. Perfect
What to Do with a Bad Boy
BODY SHOP BAD BOYS
Test Drive
Roadside Assistance
Zero to Sixty
Collision Course
THE DONNIGANS
A Sure Thing
Just the Thing
All I Want for Halloween
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Copyright © 2018 by Marie Harte
Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover art by Craig White
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
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Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Back Cover
To D&R, I love you.
Chapter 1
“Two dozen red roses and I’m sorry I screwed your sister?” Josephine “Joey” Reeves stared at the thirtysomething guy in front of her counter, thinking she must have misheard him.
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound so good.” He sighed, finger-combed back his trendy bangs, and frowned. “I was going to go with ‘Sorry I fucked your sister,’ but that’s a little crude. Probably just ‘I slept with your sister,’ right? That’s better.”
She blinked, wondering at his level of stupidity. “Um, well, how about ending at just ‘I’m sorry’?”
He considered that and nodded. “Hey, yeah. That’ll work. Do I need to sign the card? Maybe you could write that for me. My handwriting sucks.”
So does your ability to be in a committed relationship. Joey shrugged. “It’s your call. But if it were me, I’d prefer a note from the person who’s sorry, not from the woman selling him flowers.”
Her customer brightened and chose a note card from the stack on the counter. “Good call. Hey, add another dozen while you’re at it. She loves roses.”
Joey tallied up the order while he signed the card, then took it from him. The guy really did have crappy handwriting. After he paid and left, she tucked the note into the folder of orders due to go out in another hour. For a Monday afternoon, the day had gone as expected and then some. The store hadn’t been chock-full of customers, but it hadn’t been empty either. Late spring in Seattle had most people out and about working on their gardens, not inside shopping for hothouse blooms.
Still, enough anniversaries, birthdays, and relationship disasters had brought a consistent flow of customers into S&J Floral to make Stef, Joey’s boss, more than happy.
Joey hummed as she organized, thrilled that she’d gotten the hoped-for promotion to manager that morning. She’d worked her butt off for it, and that diligence had paid off. She wanted to sing and dance, proclaim her triumph to the masses.
Except it was just her, Tonya in the back putting together floral arrangements, and a random half-dozen shoppers perusing the store. It had been Joey’s idea to add some upscale gifts to their merchandise. Buying teddy bears, pretty glass ornaments, and knickknacks went hand in hand with buying flowers. S&J had seen a boost in revenue since last December when they’d implemented the big change.
Thank God it had worked. Joey appreciated Stef taking a risk by believing in her. And now…a promotion to manager and a $50K salary! With this money, she and Brandon could finally move out of her parents’ place and start fresh, away from the history of mistakes her family never let her forget. She couldn’t wait to tell her best friend Becky the good news.
Determined to start over again, Joey dug into her orders and updated delivery times, getting in touch with their new delivery guy, a cute twenty-year-old who’d no doubt soon be rolling in tips.
“Well, hello there.”
She glanced up from the counter and froze.
“You work here?” A large grin creased a face she’d tried hard to forget.
The man who’d been haunting her sleep, who’d dogged her through a wedding and sizzled her already-frazzled nerves, looked even better in the hard light of day.
“H-hello.” She coughed, trying to hide the fact that her voice shook. When she could breathe without hyperventilating, she said, “Sorry. What can I do for you today?”
The look he shot her had her ovaries doing somersaults and her brain shutting clean off.
The first time she’d seen him had been on a visit to her first wedding client ever, and she’d been floored. The guys who worked at Webster’s Garage all looked larger than life, covered in tattoos, muscles, and that indefinable sense of danger they wore like a second skin. But it had been this guy. Webster’s paint specialist. The tall Latin lover with dark-brown eyes and lips made for kissing, who had snared her.
He had a way of raising one brow in question or command that turned her entire body into his personal cheering section.
“…for some flowers. I dunno. Something that looks like I put thought into it?”
Focus, Joey. Be professional. This isn’t personal. Don’t get all gooey on the man. “Ah, budget?”
He sighed. “For Stella, it has to be decent. Girl is like a human calculator when it comes to anything with value. If I skimp, she’ll know,” he said, still grinning. He took the binder she slid to him and leafed through the floral selections. “I’m Lou Cortez, by the way.”
“I remember.” He’d only introduced himself once, months ago in the garage while she’d been going over flower choices with his boss. But Joey had never forgotten those broad shoulders, chiseled chin, or bright white smile. Wow, was he too hot to handle.
She’d kept her distance—or at least tried to. She’d been invited to the wedding, having become friends with the bride. Of course, all the woman’s employees had been invited as well. Joey had done her best to steer clear of the man women seemed to drool over. Talk about trouble she didn’t need.
She realized he’d stopped looking through the binder and was staring straight at her. More like through her. Wow. How did he do that? Bring so much concentration and intensity, she felt as if his gaze reached out and wrapped around her, holding her still?
And why, when confronted with all that masculinity, did she want to stammer and obey any darn thing he said? She had to force herself to be strong, to speak. But she just stared, mute, at so much male prettiness.
His smile deepened. “And your name would be…?” God, a dimple appeared on his left cheek.
A dimple. Kill me now. Breathe, dummy. You can handle this. It’s business. “Oh, right. I’m Joey.”
“You don’t look like a Joey,” he murmured.
Her heart raced, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Short for Josephine. So the flowers. Did you find anything you like?”
A loaded question, because his slow grin widened as he looked her over. Then he turned back to the binder and shook his head. “Nah. I need something original. Do you design bouquets?”
“Yes.” More comfortable on a professional level, she nodded. “We have some amazing florists and—”
“No. You. Do you put flowers together?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I want you to do it.” He shrugged. “Del, my boss at Webster’s, you remember her?”
She nodded. How could she forget the woman with such cold gray eyes, tattoo sleeves, and funky ash-blond hair braided in twists? The same woman she’d made friends with not long after meeting. Heck, she’d attended Del’s wedding.
“She said you were amazing. My sister needs something amazing right now.”
The flowers were for his sister. Oh man. He’s sexy as sin, he has a body to die for, and now he’s buying flowers for his sister?
She softened toward him. “Do you know her favorite flower or color? A scent maybe? Did you want sophisticated or simple? How old is she?”
“Ah, something cool. I don’t know. She’s gonna be twenty-three.” He rattled off a few ideas, and she made quick notes.
“I can have this for you by…” She paused to check the computer. “Tomorrow. Would that work?”
“Hell. I really need them today. Her birthday isn’t until Friday, but she got some shitty news, so I wanted to give them to her when I see her later. I’m willing to pay extra, no problem.”
Adding charming and thoughtful to the Lou List, Joey did her best not to moon over the man and kept a straight face. “Well, if you can wait until the end of the day, I’ll try to fit them in. We close at seven. Is that okay?”
His face broke out into a relieved smile. “Gracias, Joey. You’re doing me a huge favor.”
Ignoring his smile, she called on her inner manager. “Well, you’re doing something nice for your sister. And I know all about crappy days.”
“Yeah?” He leaned closer, and she caught a waft of motor oil and crisp cologne, an odd blend of manly and sexy that nearly knocked her on her ass. “Who tried to ruin your day, sweetheart? I can fix that.”
She blew out a shaky breath and gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, I just meant I’ve had those kinds of days before. Not now. It’s just a regular Monday for me.” A great Monday, considering her promotion.
He didn’t blink, and she felt positively hunted.
“Well, if anyone gives you any trouble, you let me know, and I can talk to them for you. Nobody should mess with a woman as pretty and nice as you.” He stroked her cheek with a rough finger before she could unglue herself from the floor and move away.
Then he glanced at the clock behind her, straightened, and said something in Spanish. “Sorry, Joey.” Her name on his lips sounded like a caress. “Gotta go. I’ll be back at seven to pick them up, okay? Thanks. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I mean, I’ll probably have to charge you extra for the sudden notice. It’s a rush order,” she blurted, not wanting him to think she was giving him special favors.
“I’ll pay, no problem.” He slid a card toward her. “My number in case something comes up with the flowers. Or a customer bothers you.” He nodded to it. “You’re a sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
He left, and she could breathe again. Still processing the overwhelming presence that had been Lou Cortez—mechanic, paint expert, and all-around heartthrob—Joey tried to calm her racing heart.
One of their regulars plunked a few items on the counter, her blue eyes twinkling, her white hair artfully arranged around her face. “Don’t know how you let that one get away. If I was a few years younger, I’d have been all over him.” She waggled her brows. “Then again, he looked like he might be open to an octogenarian with loads of experience. Think he’d mind if you gave me his number?”
They both laughed, even as Joey tucked the card into her pocket and rang up Mrs. Packard’s items. The thing burned in her pocket, a link to a man she knew better than to step a foot near. She’d throw it away after he picked up his flowers. Joey had made mistakes with a charmer a long time ago, and she had no intention of ever going down that road again.
* * *
“Aw. Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” Silence, then the groveling of a man who’d done wrong echoed through the garage bay, adding a jolt of much-needed humor to Lou’s late Monday misery. Sam continued to apologize into his cell phone. “Okay, okay. I swear I’ll take you to that stupid party. Ivy…” Sam sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
Lou snorted. Some men didn’t know a thing about women. Like the dickhead who’d just dumped his younger sister. Lou wanted to bend the guy into a pretzel, and he hadn’t liked the SOB to begin with. Good riddance. Then take his buddy Sam, still groveling into the phone. Before the guy had hooked up with his girlfriend, he couldn’t talk to, compliment, or even look at a woman without sounding like a Neanderthal. Thank God Ivy had managed to kick his ass into gear. Now the giant with a jaw like granite was apologizing—with sincerity.
Lou glanced out from under the hood of his current project, wishing they weren’t down two mechanics this afternoon. But with one guy helping his mother with something and the other at the dentist, it was up to Lou and Sam to take care of the afternoon schedule. Three rush jobs didn’t help either, but at least oil changes didn’t take as much time as this shitty Chrysler he’d swear was possessed. And, lucky him, its owner had asked for Lou by name.
Sam finished his phone call and disconnected, tossing his cell on his cluttered workbench. He glanced around, saw that Lou had been listening to every pathetic word he’d uttered, and flushed.
“Yo, jackass. Get the lead out,” Sam barked. “Del said we have to finish the LeBaron and Grand Am by the end of the day if we want to stick Foley on Blue Altima tomorrow.”
Blue Altima—a car he loathed like nobody’s business. The damn thing had been in and out of the shop three times in the past six months, and no one liked working on it or dealing with the pain-in-the-ass owner. An old woman who ate bitch pills for breakfast.
“I’m all over it,” he muttered.
Lou had been raised by his mother, his grandmother, and five aunts. He had five sisters and thirteen female cousins—who lived way too close by—and he’d been working for Delilah McCauley since her father had all but retired.
Lou respected women. He loved women.
Yet Patsy Sidel did nothing but bitch about her car, no matter how many times the crew and Del had begged her to trade it in for one that worked.
No, he had no urge to deal with Mrs. Sidel. Not when he had his mind full of another woman with no time for him or his charming ways, whic
h frankly baffled him.
He swore as he busted his knuckles against a stubborn bolt, the pain right up there with the headache brewing anytime he thought about Josephine—Joey—Reeves.
It continued to confuse the hell out of him that the one woman he’d had his eye on for months still refused to respond to his obvious appeal, handsome good looks, and killer grin.
He swore some more as he fought with the spark plugs on his current project, his thoughts on a sexy brunette who spooked if he so much as took a step in her direction.
What the hell had happened? It was like he’d fallen into an alternate reality. His badass boss had snagged a decent guy, complete with a kid and a dog. His fellow mechanics, all gruff, tatted, and coarse, had scored sweethearts. Even the boss’s dad had a fine woman who thought he hung the moon. And Liam was an all-around bruiser.
But Lou—the best-looking and smartest of the bunch—could barely get a smile from the chick he’d been digging?
He’d first seen her when she’d timidly stepped into the garage, months ago, asking for Del. His entire world had centered on that one moment, and it was like the fucking sun had spotlighted the petite brunette, showcasing the perfect woman in the center of his world.
Then she’d scurried by him, not looking much at any of the guys, as a matter of fact, and disappeared into Del’s office. Joey had come by a few times after that to deal with Del and flowers for her wedding. But somehow she managed to avoid being anywhere near Lou.
The guys thought it hilarious, since he’d made his interest clear. Even Del questioned what had happened to Lou’s famous ability to charm women. What made it even worse? Del liked the chick, and she’d invited Joey to hang at the wedding as a guest.
Again, he’d been denied. He’d tried talking to her only to have her stammer and light out as if her hair had caught fire. Then she’d disappeared when he’d tried to ask if she was okay.
Sheer luck had brought him into her shop today, inspired by the idea of getting his sister flowers to celebrate her breakup with a major asshole. Of course, Stella wouldn’t see it that way. But he did.