The arrival of his breakfast broke through the thirst that made its presence known whenever Nate dwelled too long on what had been, and he forced himself to focus on the simple act of lifting food to his mouth, of chewing and swallowing. He’d ordered huevos rancheros again, hold the meat—he’d been vegetarian since his early days on the police force, when he’d spent some time breaking up illegal dog fighting rings. It hadn’t been much of a stretch to go from feeling sick over the pain of the pit bulls to not feeling too comfortable with the ways in which meat went from animal to Styrofoam packet at the supermarket.
As he ate, a flash of color from across the street caught his eye. Sipping at his coffee, he turned his head to find the woman he’d met here in the diner last night, standing in the doorway of Estelle’s Blooms across the street, looking more than a little bit lost.
That was odd. He kept to himself as much as he could, but he’d been pretty sure that the woman who worked at that shop had red hair. Not that it was a permanent thing with women, of course, but he was also pretty sure that the redheaded woman was married to the Sheriff. The woman he’d met last night had had no ring on her finger, and the punch of heat that had passed between them when their eyes had met hadn’t seemed like it had belonged to a married woman, either.
Curiosity and all, Nate probably would have left well enough alone, content to keep to himself and watch a pretty woman on a pretty morning. But when she started dragging plain white buckets out in front of the shop and filling them with rainbow colored blooms, he found that his fingers itched to touch.
Something about this woman pulled at him. A curious thing, that she was able to penetrate the darkness that had surrounded him for so long.
As he watched, the woman started to arrange the flowers in the buckets. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was expecting with the meticulous way she was organizing the blooms, but he couldn’t hold back his laugh when she stomped her foot with frustration, the movement animating her entire body, when the flowers clearly didn’t do what she wanted them to.
Pushing away his empty plate and signing the receipt that would put the meal on his account, Nate pushed himself away from the table, and headed across the street.
This strange woman was a ray of light that had managed to break through the gloom that he never seemed quite able to shake, at least not anymore.
Because of that, he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Chapter Four
Nate followed his instincts and found himself outside of the diner. It was still morning, but already the heat of the Arizona day had worked on the tar in the street, and it sucked at his shoes, making him work harder for every step.
Alexa was intent on her work, and he took the time that she was unaware of his presence to examine her in more detail than he’d been able to the previous night. On the shorter side of things, but with some very appealing curves that looked like they might fit a man’s hands nicely. Her hair was long, reaching to her shoulder blades even pulled back as it was. The way the pale morning lit hit it highlighted the maple sugar color, as well as her pale skin, smooth and clear without any of that gook that women sometimes wore.
When she cursed and turned, pale eyes widening at the sight of him, he felt that sizzle that came with a strong attraction. Yes, he thought, a beautiful woman, who didn’t have the slightest idea that she was.
“Um. Hi.” Having once been a cop meant that he instinctively noted down details, body language. Right now he noticed that, while the woman fidgeted and tucked a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear, something that usually told him the person was out of their element, she met his stare head on. Contradictory, and fascinating.
And… there was something about her. Something that made him wonder if he’d maybe met her before. Or at least seen her somewhere.
“You’re the guy from last night.” The woman arched her back, and Nate felt more pleased than he should have when a hint of pleasure flickered over her pretty face. And if he also noted the way the movement pressed nice, full breasts against the thin cotton of her T-shirt, well, he was a man, after all.
He nodded, trying to tear his gaze away from her so that he didn’t come off as creepy. When she shifted her weight from foot to foot, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d managed.
“Can I help you with something?” Her words came out with a little more force than they could have, and Nate couldn’t help but smile. Two socially awkward humans, trying to decide if they wanted a flirtation. If they weren’t careful, this would quickly devolve into an episode of The Big Bang Theory.
“I need some flowers.” Nate said the first thing that came out of his mouth, then winced. Way to be original, Fury. Bet no one’s said that to her before.
But to her credit, the woman just nodded. “Anything particular in mind?” With a jerk of her head indicating that he should follow her inside, she stooped to prop open the glass door with a large grey brick, then entered the shop.
“I’ll take whatever you think is pretty.” Nate followed her in, not above taking a surreptitious look at the sweet curves of her backside as he did. He’d been so depressed for so many months, and attraction of any kind hadn’t been able to fight its way through the dark.
But this woman? Something about her was different.
“Okay.” The woman exhaled loudly, and Nate thought she looked relieved, which puzzled him a bit. The confusion only thickened as he watched her move around the shop.
She just didn’t seem very comfortable in her surroundings, opening three drawers before locating a pair of clippers, and bumping her curvy hips on the edge of the counter, the garbage can, the cash register every time she turned around. More than that, every bloom that she picked up was held gingerly between thumb and forefinger, as if she didn’t have a clue what to do with it and more, was maybe a little bit nervous.
Fascinated, he watched as she worked. Like she’d done outside, she spent an inordinate amount of time comparing colors, even muttering to herself as she worked. But when it came to arranging the stems together, she was clumsy and awkward, finally cursing under her breath and jamming the mass of green together.
“Christ,” she muttered to herself as she held the bouquet up in front of her and surveyed her handiwork. Nate felt his lips twitch and struggled to hold back a smile when she stomped toward the front counter and held out her creation with a huff of her breath.
What was her story? Why was she here? He was dying to know.
It wasn’t his business. Part of why he’d changed jobs was to surround himself with anonymity. Caring led to pain, and he’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
“How much?” He pulled his wallet from his pants pocket. She raised her eyebrows at him.
“I can’t charge you for this.” Together they surveyed the undeniably ugly bouquet.
Some of the stems were broken, and twisted at awkward angles. The rest of the stems had been forced together so tightly that Nate felt his own lungs quiver for breath in response. The heads of the blossoms… they’d been packed together like sardines in a tin can, one giant ball that did nothing to emphasize each flower’s delicate beauty.
“It’s not that bad.” He felt his mouth curl into a half smile—he had a hard time managing a full one these days, though right now he was close.
The woman’s eyes met his over the top of the bouquet, and they were full of disbelief. He couldn’t help it—he barked out a short laugh.
“No, really. The colors are nice.” And they were—the time she’d taken over that had paid off, the big ball of blooms’ only saving grace. “I’m happy to pay for them.”
Anything to make her smile, though why he felt the driving need, he wasn’t entirely sure. More than the desire to see her face light up, Nate felt that intense curiosity, which he finally gave in to.
“So, what’s your story?” Her head snapped up, and he knew he’d been blunt. He couldn’t help it—it was just how he was. But he did curse a bit internally as he warned himself
not to scare her away.
“I beg your pardon?” Wariness shadowed her face as she thrust the bouquet into his hands and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Classic defensive body language.
Well, in for a penny. “You clearly don’t know your way around. I’ve never seen you before. Did you just move to town?”
His eyes met hers, noted the suspicion in hers. “Are you a cop or something?”
“Would it matter if I was?” He knew he couldn’t read too much into her defensiveness, though something about her was setting a quiet alarm ringing in his head—some people were just naturally skittish around law enforcement.
“Would it matter if I cared?” She countered, raising her chin and not backing down. Nate liked that spark of spirit, and the way it broke through the haze of grey that had surrounded him for so long.
With another half-smile, he held his hands up, palms out. “Not a cop. Just interested.”
Just interested. What did he mean by that, exactly? He was breaking his anonymity rule here.
But something about her just wouldn’t let him leave it alone.
She broke his stare, studying the bouquet intently as she studiously tried to rearrange one of the stems. He was certain that she was dodging the question, and was trying to think of something to say to get them both out of the awkward mess, when she lifted her head and pinned him with that intent stare of hers, the one that said not only was she observing, but she was seeing.
“I’m watching the shop for a few days. For my… sister.” She stumbled over the last word, and though Nate wanted to know why, he told himself he’d done quite enough pushing already.
He opened his mouth; to say what, he wasn’t sure. But then she shook her head, as if to shake herself out of her uncertainty, and looked up at him through the thick tangle of mink colored lashes.
Something in that look hit him square in the chest. It was something more than her looks, though she was an undeniably attractive woman. But this—this was some connection. One of those indescribable instances in which two people are pulled together, and nothing they do can stop it.
He said none of this, though, retreating instead into the stoicism in which he was the most comfortable.
The silence between them hung heavily in the air, pregnant with unspoken words.
“Who are the flowers for?” She spoke first—Christ, he didn’t even know her name.
He hadn’t intended to buy flowers at all, let thought far enough ahead to decide on a recipient, so he went with his kneejerk response.
“They’re for you.” As he spoke he felt that high that went hand in hand with flirtation, though he hadn’t planned to hit on her when he’d walked across the street. He’d just... he’d been pulled. As if by an invisible hand.
It wasn’t fair to this woman. He was a mess. He was in no place to be starting something.
Yet a little voice whispered in his head—haven’t you suffered enough?
He watched as her eyes lit with surprise, and a shy smile curved her lips, which only enhanced her appeal.
“I—” She ran a tongue over her lower lip. “I’m Alexa.”
“Nate.” He thought about holding out a hand, but shaking was not what he wanted to do with this woman.
How very much he wanted it unnerved the hell out of him. And just like that, the interior of the tiny flower shop started to feel a little bit too small, the walls threatening to close in on him.
If he didn’t leave before that happened, he knew from experience that he could find himself shrouded in darkness. He didn’t want this woman—Alexa—to see him like that.
He also didn’t want to be the head case who ran out of her shop for no reason, either. Strangely enough, looking into those wide, shining eyes of hers was like a cool balm on the agitated energy of his soul.
“I’ll see you around, Alexa.” Her little smile carried him out the door, where he sucked in air until he got lightheaded.
He was tired. This was nothing new. But the little bit of lightness in his heart that carried him home?
That definitely was, and he wanted more.
* * *
Alexa knew it was foolish, but she used her limited skills to arrange the bouquet of flowers in a cheap glass vase on the counter of the shop. They still seemed ridiculously messy to her artistic eye, but something about the time spent with the blooms, touching the silky petals, inhaling the sweet scent, satisfied her in a way that only painting ever had.
Maybe it wasn’t the arranging, but the fact that the flowers had been given to her by the handsome, brooding man who’d seemed like he’d stepped right out of the pages of a romance novel.
“Down, girl.” Alexa whispered to herself as her heart did a pleasant little flip. She wasn’t really in any place to be starting something. She didn’t even live here, didn’t know how long she’d stay.
But if it gave her joy, and didn’t hurt anyone, then what was wrong with savoring the sweet rush? It had been so long since she’d felt these exciting little shivers.
Humming to herself, Alexa spent the next few hours exploring the shop that had belonged to—it was hard to say it—her grandmother. She was an artist, yes, but she wasn’t the stereotypically messy, absent minded type, and she didn’t like not knowing where things were, not feeling comfortable in her surroundings. So she memorized the whereabouts of tools that she didn’t have a clue as to the use of, and different kinds of ribbons and raffia, and the extra rolls of paper for the cash register. The till itself required a great deal of poking at before it would do anything, and not a little bit of frustration when customers came in before she’d figured it out. But she still didn’t feel comfortable charging for her ugly bouquets anyway, and she figured that Ellie was just going to have to eat the lost profit in return for giving Alexa so little information before she’d taken off.
Alexa was standing in the cooler, flipping through a massive hard covered floral dictionary and comparing the pictures to the blooms in front of her, when the bell above the door chimed yet again. It wasn’t in her nature to be surly, not like it seemed like Ellie habitually was but Alexa was an introvert. There was a reason she’d chosen a solitary career.
Too many people, even one by one, grated on her. So she forced a smile over gritted teeth as she pushed out of the cooler to greet the petite, white haired woman who’d entered the shop.
“Good afternoon.” Her voice sounded much cheerier than she felt—at least, she hoped it did, because the high from her encounter with Nate had faded, leaving her more than a little overwhelmed. “May I help you with anything?”
The woman had sparkly lavender rimmed glasses on a beaded chain around her neck; when she saw Alexa she used gnarled fingers to put them on scowling as she focused in.
“Who are you, then?” The way she looked at Alexa made her squirm as though she’d done something bad enough to earn a detention. In fact, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find that this woman had been a teacher before her golden years hit.
“I’m Alexa.” She forced herself to take a deep breath and smile, though inside her head she was screaming. Done, done, she was so done. And she was supposed to deal with the public for a few days?
If Ellie would just come home, Alexa would never feel uninspired to paint again.
“I didn’t ask your name, girlie. I asked who you were.” The older woman glared, as if Alexa really should have understood that right off the bat.
Alexa wanted to tell the woman that it was none of her business, and it was on the tip of her tongue to do just that. Something held her back.
“I’m a—I’m a friend of Ellie’s.” Why she didn’t claim Ellie as her sister to this woman, when she had to Nate, she didn’t know. Though she’d known him for less than a day, the man had nestled himself into a subset in her mind—he was just different from everyone else.
The woman glared over the top of her glasses—or at least, Alexa thought she did, but it was hard to tell, with all the wrinkl
es that folded the paper thin skin.
“I’ve got eyes, girlie. You’re the other child. Estelle’s other granddaughter.” Sniffing, never doubting that she was right, the woman gestured to a bucket of—Alexa was pretty sure they were carnations—that she’d arranged in a bucket on the counter. “Those on special?”
“Everything’s on special,” Alexa replied, smirking a bit inside—it was her small way of exacting revenge for Ellie dumping this entire situation in her lap. But as she spoke she looked her customer over cautiously, hooked by the woman’s words.
The other child.
“Hmpf. You’re a sight less tight fisted than your sister, then.” The woman nodded approvingly, then used her cane to drag the bucket down the counter to where she stood, because clearly, she couldn’t lower herself to walk there herself. Water splashed onto the counter, soaking the shoulder of Alexa’s T-shirt, but she barely noticed.
“Sister.” She swallowed thickly. How would this woman know that she had a sister when she was even convinced herself? “How do you—”
“Mrs. Robert Gunderson. Lived next door for fifty years.” The woman jerked a thumb at herself before pulling a bundle of red carnations out of the bucket, the movement causing the sweetly spicy scent to fill the air. Out of their container, the paper that Alexa had wrapped them in was clearly soaked, two large lumps breaking off to plop wetly on the counter as they stood there. “You’re supposed to wrap these in plastic, girlie. Cellophane.”
Alexa should have been frustrated with her error—only an idiot wouldn’t realize that paper would get soaked in the water in the buckets, after all. But she found it hard to care, when she was suddenly consumed by one thought, one little thing that froze her in place.
This woman might have known her father.
She opened her mouth to ask, slightly afraid that if she managed to get even a single word out, they would all come tumbling forth in a never ending stream, but the woman held up her hand, halting the verbal diarrhea before it could start.
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