Take It Off the Menu

by Hovland, Christina

  She sauntered over to Jase and his flowers. “You need about four more lilies on the left and it’ll be perfect.”

  He slid his gaze to her.

  She raised her eyebrows in her best what? expression. When it came to art—especially flowers—she was like a savant. After the office flowers would get delivered each week, she’d made it her own personal job to fix the arrangements. No, it had nothing to do with the company events she helped plan, but yes, it was necessary. It was also number one hundred and sixty-five on the list of things she did that drove Scotty nuts. Which, she’d always assumed, was why he didn’t buy her flowers.

  “You wanna show me?” Jase asked.

  She set Lothario on the ground, grabbed the lilies, snipped off the ends so they’d get a nice drink of water in the Oasis floral foam, and with the precision of someone who couldn’t afford to pay for them if she screwed them up, poked them precisely where they’d look best. She didn’t need to step back for the full effect to know the arrangement was now complete.

  “What do you think of that one?” He jerked his chin toward a bouquet of white roses and succulents in a bamboo-inspired vase.

  “Do you have anything that looks ropey? Or like a vine?” She scanned the tabletop, not coming up with anything that would work. Most of the time, flowers looked best when their symmetry was precise. But with the way the succulents tilted, a few ropey vines would be perfect for balance.

  “Ropey?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Something that looks like a rope?” she replied, eyebrows also raised.

  “Let’s check the back.” Jase headed toward a walk-in cooler.

  The cold air blew against her skin as she inventoried the selection. She snagged a few fig branches from one of his oversized white buckets. “This’ll work.”

  She moved back to the table, twisting the vine so it would bend at the precise angle she needed and maneuvering it through the roses so it’d hold. “There.”

  “That’s decent.” Jase turned the vase so he could see from the other side.

  “It’s not decent. It’s perfect.” Marlee stood by that assertion. “It’s like a painting, but with flowers.”

  Jase turned the vase again. “Do you know anything about flowers?”

  “I know which ones I like.” Marlee shrugged. “And I rearrange them when I see them at the office. Used to see them at the office,” she amended.

  “How much is Eli paying you?” Jase asked. “My assistant left. I’ve been doing everything myself for the past few weeks.”

  “Eli isn’t paying me very much. But I pretty much screw up everything over there and mooch off his food and sleep in his bed.” She shrugged.

  Jase tilted his head to the right just a tad.

  “I mean, he’s not sleeping in the bed with me,” Marlee assured. “But he could.” Not that he would. Or that she wanted it. “He just takes the couch because of the divorce.” And now she was going to shut up.

  Jase crossed his arms. “I’ll pay you double whatever he’s paying.”

  Well, that was better than fussing with almonds and ruining soup, but—“What’s the job, exactly?”

  “Helping me out in the shop, arranging flowers, manning the cash register, talking to customers—”

  “I love talking to people.” She really did. No one really chatted in the kitchen. Everyone stayed focused on the food. Which, you know, as someone who ate food, she appreciated that they kept their focus where it should be. But as someone who also liked to chitchat, it was annoying as hell that no one talked.

  He smiled huge. “And some deliveries.”

  “I can do deliveries. I have a driver’s license and everything.” And his van probably had plenty of gas. “Do I have to pay the tax things?”

  Because those really were a pain in the tush.

  Jase smirked. “Well, yeah. It’s sort of the law.”

  “Do I have to pay a lot of them?” she asked.

  He leveled a stare at her, clearly trying to figure her out. “I’ll pay you triple.”

  “There’s still taxes. I don’t like paying those.”

  “Marlee, I can’t negotiate out the taxes, but there will be more money when you get your check from me versus when you get your check from Eli.”

  Well, that worked, too. “Deal.”

  She’d once mentioned to her dad that she’d thought about becoming a florist.

  He’d informed her it wasn’t an appropriate position for someone of her pedigree. Now, it would be what kept Lothario fed, which made it all the more fitting.

  “When can you start?” Jase held out his hand.

  She shook it. “Uh, now? Eli sent me home early because I didn’t eat lunch and I screwed up his almonds.”

  Jase’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Did you get lunch or should I call something in?”

  Nope, she was good. “Eli fed me before he sent me home.”

  Now, he could relax knowing that she would not be tripping over everything in his kitchen or screwing up his jobs.

  “Marlee, I have about ten arrangements to finish this afternoon. If you help me, I’ll never make you do anything with almonds,” Jase promised.

  “Then you think you can stop me?” Because truth was, she would arrange flowers for free. Well, she would’ve before she didn’t have any money. Now, she’d need to charge. But only because Lothario liked special only-available-online food. He was struggling through the kibble she was able to afford, but he didn’t have to whine for her to know he preferred the other. “But Eli may need my help with some of his events since he’s been planning on me being there.” She didn’t want to leave him high and dry, but he was going to be over the moon that she wasn’t all up in his face all the time. “So I’ll have to work out some kind of a schedule.”

  “Fair enough.” Jase pulled a binder from beside the cash register. “This is where I keep the special orders. I also make a list every Monday of the stock we’ll want to keep in the shop that week.”

  Marlee rubbed her hands together. “Gimme.”

  * * *

  Eli had been working Marlee too hard. Hell, he was exhausted, and he was used to the late hours and early mornings. He’d been busting his butt to keep shaving off the days until he could afford to open his new restaurant. But thanks to his new wife, he’d just landed a fundraising gala. If it went well, he could likely shave ten months off Dean’s timetable with all the extra gigs that would follow.

  As soon as he came out as her mystery groom, the call came in from the committee chair for the Consolidated Means gala. Their caterer had bailed, and Marlee had talked her into hiring Eli.

  Usually, after a marathon couple of weeks, he’d head up to the mountains with a tent and no cell service. Now that Marlee was staying with him, he’d find something to do closer to home after the big gala. He just hoped like hell that the business following the event would make it all worth it.

  With a large brown bag of leftovers tucked under his arm, he paused at the edge of the parking lot. Marlee’s Jag was still parked right next to his Jeep. She hadn’t gone home to rest.

  His stomach dropped.

  Not that he had any right to tell her what to do or where to go, but she’d looked so wiped earlier. He didn’t want to be responsible for that.

  She was either at Jase’s flower shop or Heather’s cookie shop. He’d start with Jase. It was closer anyway, and since Jase was his buddy and it wasn’t totally out of the ordinary for him to stop in after work for a beer, it wouldn’t look like he was tracking down his soon-to-be ex-wife.

  Turning back toward the sidewalk, he practically jogged to Jase’s door. Not because he was worried about Marlee. Only because he wanted to see his buddy.

  The cowbell on the door clunked as he pushed it open. Eighties hair band music blared from the speakers—Van Halen this time—and Marlee was fussing with an arrangement of tulips, one of The Flower Pot’s aprons hugging her waist.

  Marlee was not resting.

&n
bsp; Lothario was hanging out next to her on Jase’s flower-arranging station in the middle of the store. Lothario saw him first. Barked. Jumped off the counter and bounded toward Eli. Eli’s feet, anyway.

  Marlee turned. “Eli. Hey.”

  “Mar.” He strode to the counter.

  “Oh, is that for me?” Her eyes danced.

  Yeah, it was all for her. Dinner, and he’d put aside a dozen cupcakes just for her. He nodded.

  “Why aren’t you resting?” he asked as carefully as he could, because he really had no business asking her about anything she did.

  “I am.” She held up the bouquet. “See?”

  “This isn’t resting. This is working for Jase.”

  “Yeah. So he kind of hired me. But congratulations to you, you don’t have to worry about your almonds anymore.” She grinned like this was a good thing.

  His gut clenched. She was quitting? He liked her in his kitchen. Maybe he liked her there too much.

  “Don’t worry, though, I told Jase I needed to finish out the events you’ve got me scheduled for.”

  “Mar, you don’t have to work somewhere else.” Eli shifted his foot from where Lothario was loving up on it.

  “Yes, she does.” Jase lugged out a couple buckets of various blooms. “Because your wife is like a floral genius.”

  “Ex-wife,” she corrected.

  “Wife, because the divorce isn’t final,” Eli corrected her correction. Why? He had no fucking idea. She just wasn’t his ex. What was she? He had no real idea. But she wasn’t his ex-anything. Not yet.

  She and Jase both looked at him oddly.

  “And I really am good with flowers,” she continued. “And he’s paying me extra so I don’t have to worry about the taxes.”

  “That is not entirely the case, but we’ll roll with it.” Jase set the flower buckets beside her. “I can see that you are not happy about sharing Marlee. But watch her. She’s amazing.”

  Yes, Eli knew how amazing she was. And he didn’t want to share that. Jase may be one of his best friends, but he wasn’t sharing Marlee.

  “She’s tired, Jase. She’s supposed to be taking the afternoon to rest so she doesn’t collapse.” Fuck, she’d almost passed out in front of him. He couldn’t forgive himself for pushing her so hard.

  “I’m not going to collapse. This is like rest for me.” Marlee grabbed a vase from the center of the work counter. “But if you brought me cupcakes, I’m ready for a break.”

  “You can call it a day.” Jase opened the paper sack, rifling through the food Eli had put aside for Marlee. “Are there really cupcakes in here?”

  “They’re not for you.” Eli practically growled at his friend. “Unless Marlee wants to share.”

  Now, Marlee was looking at him odd again. He was going to get a complex.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “All this talk of me passing out—which didn’t happen, I might add—and now you look like you’re about to eat Jase.”

  “He can’t eat me. He knows I can take him.” Jase continued rifling through the sack, finally pulling out the tray of cupcakes. “Sweet fuck, these look amazing.”

  Marlee cracked open the plastic cupcake box. “I have been waiting all day for this.”

  She pulled off the wrapper and sank her teeth into the cake and icing. He could watch her eat all day. Funny thing about chefs, they loved watching people eat their creations. Eli was no different. It’s a high like he never got anywhere else. But when Marlee sank her teeth into his food? It was like she was sinking herself into his soul.

  He was becoming a Marlee addict.

  And that was unacceptable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nine Weeks Until the Divorce Is Finalized

  The first time Marlee had taken Bert a cup of coffee, it’d been an accident. She’d unintentionally ordered a vanilla latte instead of a caramel latte, so she’d had an extra. Bert had been flying a sign on the corner and she’d offered the extra to him. He’d been so thrilled she swore she’d keep doing it. There was something about making him happy that made her happy. It was, after all, just a cup of coffee. Then his friends had started showing up, and she’d brought them coffee, too. Yes, she could’ve donated a boatload of money to a charity—and she did back when she had it—but doing it her way meant she also got to make friends. Got to see that a cup of coffee could make a difference in a person’s day.

  Delivering flowers was no different. It brought about the same rush.

  Kellie: Marlee’s too busy for us.

  Becca: Because she’s married with a job, she’s practically a grown up.

  Marlee: I love my job.

  Sadie: I love that you love your job.

  Marlee: I have deliveries. Chat when I’m done?

  Becca: We’re here.

  Marlee: Pocket friends are the best.

  Kellie: Go get ’em, girl.

  “I’m going to run this batch over to the museum.” Marlee boxed up the delivery she’d prepared. Jase’s delivery driver, Ethan, was gone that afternoon, so Marlee was on delivery duty. And. She. Loved. It.

  Delivering flowers made people happy. Which meant it made her happy. Which meant everyone was happy and she loved her job.

  Which sucked, because Eli wasn’t thrilled about her job. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. After a month of living together, it seemed they knew each other better than she and Scotty had after ten years.

  He brought her food when she was working, and they still saw each other in the evenings. He was so funny about everything. Half the time, he grumbled and avoided her. The other half, he was bringing her food and checking on her.

  “Vait,” Jase’s grandmother, Babushka, hollered from the back room. “Vait for me.”

  Jase’s grandmother was Russian to the core. Marlee’s grandmother had been prim and proper and loved Marlee with all her heart. Jase’s grandmother was not prim and proper. With her strong opinions, thick accent, and eccentric style—Marlee had no idea there were that many shades of lime green or that you could get flip-flops in pink or a manicure to match—Babushka was a total kick in the pants. The woman was pushing ninety and made Marlee smile all day long. That wasn’t even an exaggeration. Babushka was crazy and awesome, and Marlee loved spending time with her. Well, when Babushka was at the shop. She wasn’t always at the shop. She lived at the retirement community up the block, so she spent a lot of time there. Although, she’d been stopping by more frequently as of late.

  “You’re coming?” Marlee asked.

  “Of course, no von gives me great-grandbabies. I have nothing to do. I’m not staying around here to rot.” Babushka shuffled to the back exit with Marlee in her wake, lugging the box.

  Marlee definitely didn’t want to leave her there to rot.

  “You’ll drive,” Babushka said.

  Marlee would have to, seeing as how Babushka had no driver’s license and Heather had shared the story of Babushka totaling Heather’s cookie delivery van in an effort to push Jase and Heather together.

  “Lothario, come.” Babushka snapped her fingers.

  Lothario trotted along beside her.

  Eli had officially been replaced as his favorite. And he had yet to hump any part of Babushka or her clothing. Marlee had a theory about that: Lothario and Babushka were kindred spirits of sorts—Babushka had two boyfriends and Lothario had an affinity for Eli’s shoes, Scotty’s sweaters, and Jase’s vases. Lothario and Babushka understood each other on some deep level.

  “I’m stealing your grandmother,” Marlee yelled to Jase.

  “Are you stealing her or is she stealing you?” Jase yelled back.

  Er.

  “I’m not really sure,” Marlee replied.

  At that point, it didn’t really matter. Did it?

  Jase stuck his head out of the cooler. “If you’re not back in two hours, I’ll sic Eli on you.”

  Marlee rolled her eyes. “Like that will do any good.”

  Jase rolled his eyes right back
at her. “Have you met your husband?”

  “Ex-husband,” Marlee corrected.

  “Uh-huh.” Jase rolled his eyes.

  Marlee rolled her eyes right back. “Fine. Two hours, max.”

  “And if she tries to make you do anything illegal, immoral, or just plain inappropriate, just say no,” Jase added.

  “Got it.” Marlee grabbed the keys to the delivery van.

  “Marlee,” Jase said her name like it was the most important name in the world. “Just. Say. No.”

  The way he said it made her whole spine shiver.

  Sheesh. Babushka was intense, but Marlee could handle her.

  “Jase,” Marlee said his name like it had the same amount of importance. “She’s like ninety. I got this.”

  “Shit,” Jase muttered. He shook his head. “Take care of her. Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

  What kind of trouble could Babushka possibly get Marlee into? She shook off the idea and hurried out the door, box in hand, to find Babushka and Lothario.

  * * *

  “Man, we have a problem,” Jase said from the door of Eli’s kitchen.

  Eli glanced up from where he folded empanadas—his grandmother’s recipe. “Jase.”

  “Man.” Jase marched into the kitchen without even washing his fucking hands. “We. Have. A. Problem.”

  “Can it wait until after I’m done here?” Eli asked, his focus back on the dough in front of him. The last time Jase had barged in his kitchen to tell him they had a major issue was a week ago when Jase didn’t like where Eli had parked his Jeep.

  For the record, Eli had been in his allotted spot, Jase had just wanted to use it to load his delivery van.

  “It’s Marlee.” Jase shoved his hands on his hips.

  Eli snapped to attention. “What about Marlee?”

  “Babushka hijacked her, and I have no idea where they went. Neither are picking up their phones, and Marlee said she’d be back over an hour ago.”

  Eli let out a breath. He didn’t need to freak out. “So they got sidetracked.”