by Linda Kage
No one turns down Diego Ernesto Fernando Hernandez for a date. You will learn this soon enough, mi reina.
“Whoa,” I murmured, pulling back in surprise as my eyebrows shot up. This note had a different tone to it than the others had. An ominous, do-as-I-say-or-pay-the-consequences kind of tone. A threatening tone.
All because I’d pricked his stupid, macho pride and said no.
“What a douche,” I muttered aloud and tossed his pompous note in the trash, even as a chill of dread raced up the back of my spine, because what if he really did become violent just because I turned him down?
Picking up the bouquet, I was about to toss them too, but the teen girl at the booth I’d just waited on said, “At least the flowers are pretty.”
I glanced at her, lifting an eyebrow. “You want them?”
Her eyes lit up. I knew she was about to accept, but the boy sitting across from her, lifted his hands, halting her. “I wouldn’t,” he advised. “He probably laced the petals with anthrax, because she’s such a bi—”
“Excuse me,” I cut in, waving at him before he could call me something nasty and regretful. “You know I can hear you, right? And I’m going to be the one to serve you that shake you just ordered? You should probably watch what you call me.”
He glanced at me and winced.
Wow. I rolled my eyes once more and turned away, the roses still in my hand. Before I trashed them, however, I spotted the name of the flower shop they had come from on a small oval golden sticker stuck to the ribbon that was holding the bouquet together.
Rosewood.
Hmm.
With five minutes left on my shift, I hurried through fixing that shake for the teens. Then I plopped a cherry in the whipped topping and strolled toward them with a huge, beaming smile.
“One hot fudge lovers’ shake with two straws,” I announced, expressing way more cheer and friendliness than I usually did as I carefully set the dessert on the table between them so I wouldn’t spill anything.
The boy lurched backward away from it as if it were infected or full of spit. It wasn’t, but I had to admit it brightened my day to make him think so. When the girl glanced up at me uneasily, I sent her a wink.
Her lips twitched into a secret grin before she leaned forward and took a big sip through the straw.
My replacement for the day finally arrived then, with no time to spare. I took a few minutes to catch her up-to-date on the current customers, and then I whipped my apron away from my waist, officially off the clock.
Thank God. One day down. Just the rest of my life to go.
I walked toward Miguel’s school to pick him up from the after-school program. Along the way, I called the local police station, but as soon as I explained my situation to the woman who answered, she said, “So you want to file a complaint against a guy giving you too many flowers?”
Flushing, I muttered, “Never mind,” and hung up as fast as I could.
So, yep, I definitely wasn’t going to go to the police about Diego. They’d laugh me right out of the precinct.
I glanced at the sticker on the bouquet’s ribbon again. Rosewood. Hmm. If Diego didn’t listen and stop bringing me flowers, maybe these people at Rosewood might be convinced to stop selling them to him. It was something to consider, anyway.
As soon as Miguel spotted me approaching with the roses in my arms, he snickered.
“Diego? Again?”
Shaking his head, he hiked his book bag over his shoulder and coughed as he exited the metal gate from the schoolyard to meet me on the sidewalk.
With a frown, I reached out and set my hand against his brow to check for a fever. He looked sweaty and shrunken in, as if he were feeling bad. Dammit, I had sent him back to school too soon, hadn’t I? He’d been so miserable on Saturday night. Of course, it would take more than a little Tylenol, chicken noodle soup, and a day to bounce back after that.
Shit, I was an awful sister.
But he didn’t feel hot. And he sent me a harassed, irritated look before shifting his face away and strolling off, leaving me behind.
Pushing my concern aside, I hurried after him and muttered, “I told him to stop. It’s not like I want his attention.”
“Then why did you keep the flowers?” he taunted, sending me a teasing leer.
I huffed out a breath. “This is the last time. I swear. Because I have a plan.”
“Uh huh, right.” Clearly not believing me, he nodded and sent me a knowing smirk. “Whatever you say, Gabs. But I think you like him wooing you.”
“Ugh. Definitely not.” Not him, anyway. “How was school?” I countered, ready to change the subject. “Did you have your spelling test today?”
“Yep,” he answered. “It was fine. But guess what?” He brightened as he added, “Dawson tried to burp the alphabet at recess but threw up on Hailey Market’s shoes instead. It was awesome. Then Ethan ran faster in gym than James—though neither of them could beat me—which no one thought was possible. And Phoebe got in trouble during library when she lifted her dress, and everyone saw her Shopkins underwear.”
He rattled on about fourth grade drama the rest of the way home, which helped ease my conscience that he was okay after all. Maybe he wasn’t going to have a relapse.
At home, I helped him with his math facts and one-minute fluency reading, then I peeked into Papá’s room, checking on him. He waved me off, grumbling something about being fine before I could even ask as he watched some tattooing show on the television. So I left him be.
Miguel had already gotten onto his tablet and was playing some game with annoying repetitive music, so I felt secure about leaving the apartment.
“Hey, I’m going to pop out for a minute. If you need anything, get Papá or call my cell, okay?”
He tossed out a distracted-sounding okay, which told me he probably wouldn’t move from that spot for at least an hour or more. But I hurried out the door, still worried and hoping I wasn’t making a mistake about leaving him alone with Papá, even for a brief spell.
Thank goodness Rosewood was located near our building; it only took me a few minutes to reach it.
All the way there, though, I let myself grow more and more upset over Diego’s persistence.
It was a good thing I’d never fallen victim to his charms, because the guy toyed with women’s emotions. I wasn’t even a person to him, just a conquest to be won. He cared nothing about me or my hopes and dreams. As soon as he would’ve gotten what he wanted from me, he would’ve abandoned me like yesterday’s trash, caring nothing about any pain or heartache he might’ve caused. It was disgusting. I mean, how did guys like him make it through every day without constantly getting kicked in the nuts? He wasn’t even being romantic with the flowers. This honestly was bordering on harassment.
Good and pissed by the time I made it to the flower shop, I bulldozed my way inside, ready to kick ass and take names.
Inside, the sweet smell of flora instantly enveloped me. Light, calming background music played from speakers, and the man at the counter seemed friendly and personable as he checked out a purchase for two customers.
I ignored the two women paying for their items and narrowed my eyes on the man as I marched forward to slap the bouquet onto the counter in front of him. When the roses kind of exploded, leaves and petals spraying everywhere, I cringed, not expecting quite that much flair.
The man, who’d been in the middle of ringing up a purchase, jumped and turned to me.
He blinked, then lowered his gaze to the bouquet before he immediately brightened. “Hey, those are our flowers.”
“I know.” Scowling, I folded my arms over my chest. “I read your store’s label on the ribbon. That’s why I’m here.”
Finally catching on to my mood, he frowned with a sense of worry. “Is there a problem with them?”
“No,” I muttered. Dammit, he was being too nice. He wasn’t supposed to be so nice. It was going to make my anger look all unjustified and ugly. Ugh. �
�They’re absolutely gorgeous,” I reluctantly agreed. Then I stiffened my spine and announced, “So I want you to stop selling them to the bastard who keeps giving them to me.”
Chapter 10
Gabby
“Oh!” The flower shop cashier pulled back in surprise. “I’m sorry.” He looked truly sympathetic when he asked, “Did you guys not make up this time?”
“Make up?” I shook my head, frowning at him. “This time? What the fuck are you talking about? There was no making up, because we’ve never been together.” I pointed insistently toward the roses. “These aren’t apology flowers. They’re a bundle full of I-want-you guilt trip from a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”
“Ooh,” a voice cooed from next to me. “That’s bad.”
And another echoed, “Real bad.”
I whirled to find that the two customers who’d been paying for their purchases were openly listening in on my complaint.
Then I jolted when I realized I actually knew one of them, and she lived in the same building as me. “Kaitlynn! Hey. What’re you doing here?”
And why didn’t you answer your damn door on Halloween night to help a desperate girl out, huh? I didn’t add.
She smiled in her usual cheerful, sweet way. “I’m longingly gazing at all the pretty flowers,” she said before looking at my bouquet from Diego. “Those are some awesome roses.”
“Here.” I shoved them at her ungracefully. “You want them? They’re yours.”
“Uh.” She fumbled to get a hold of them as I abruptly let go. “Um, thank you?”
It seemed more like a question than a gush of appreciative delight.
“You’re welcome,” I snarled. “I certainly don’t want them.” Spinning back to the man behind the counter, I folded my arms across my chest and sent him an expectant look, waiting for him to fix this situation he’d stuck me in with Diego.
Okay, fine. He hadn’t stuck me in any situation. I knew this. But it felt good to place the blame on him, so I arched an eyebrow, making him shift nervously and glance toward Kaitlynn and the other woman before he sent me an uneasy glance and confessed, “I’m confused. How is it bad to buy a woman flowers in order to show her you’re interested in her?”
The lady I didn’t know—a redhead clutching a wicker basket—sighed and shook her head at him. Kaitlynn slapped her palm to her forehead as if he were a lost cause. The man appeared to grow even more panicked and uncertain by their reactions, so I happily—er, okay, maybe it was snidely—explained.
“It’s bad because I asked him to stop. Repeatedly. Sure, I understand how diligence and hard work are good things to help you get what you want, but this dumbass passed cute persistence two dozen bouquets ago. Now it’s just creepy. He’s a freaking stalker, and you’re enabling him.”
“No!” The man literally stepped back and lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not. I swear, I—”
“Now he acts like I owe him something,” I went on. “I didn’t ask for any fucking flowers, and I certainly don’t want them, not from him, anyway. So I refuse to sleep with the asshole in some kind of jubilant gratitude. It’s just not happening.”
I couldn’t seem to mention the lying, thieving part about Diego, because frankly, it was too embarrassing to admit that was the kind of guy I attracted.
“Yeah,” the cashier agreed, nodding, his eyes wide with fear, like he thought I’d pull out a gun and shoot him if he dared to disagree. “I wouldn’t sleep with him either.”
“Right?” I waved a hand, glad he saw my point, only to shove it back against my hip and send him another probing glare. “So what’re you going to do about it?”
“Me?” He gulped as if he were swallowing a bowling ball. “I, um…”
“Shaw?” a voice asked from behind him. A woman’s voice. “Is everything okay out here?”
The man spun toward her gratefully, relief making his shoulders sag. “Isobel!” Grabbing her arm, he yanked her close as if she were a shield and I was some kind of weapon aimed at him. “Yes. I need you.” Once she was safely tucked against his side, he gave me his attention again, saying, “Ma’am, this is Isobel, the owner.”
Next to me, Kaitlynn blurted a quiet, “Oh!” When we all glanced at her, she blushed and covered her mouth before saying, “Sorry for interrupting.” Then she spoke to the man. “Ignore me. I just always assumed you owned the shop, Shaw.”
Shaw flashed her an indulgent smile, only to stroke his hand up Isobel’s arm. “No. I just work here. Iz is the true owner. She grows the flowers and displays the arrangements.”
Kaitlynn sent Isobel her sweet smile, the one that was so nauseatingly kind and compassionate, that made birds sing and flowers bloom. “Your flowers are lovely. I’d buy some every day, if I could.”
I rolled my eyes. If she were anyone else, I’d think she was being a suck-up in order to weasel her way into getting free flowers, but since this was Kaitlynn, I knew she was just that freaking nice.
Isobel nodded graciously to Kaitlynn. “Thank you. Though Shaw is being far too modest. We run the place together. All the woodworks are actually his.”
Shaw glowed at Isobel. It was obvious he got laid regularly, thanks to her. “This is Kaitlynn, by the way,” he said. “The one I was telling you about who always brings us snacks.” Motioning toward a bag of cookies sitting on the counter, he turned back to Kaitlynn. “And this is Isobel, my better half.”
“Nice to meet you.” When Kaitlynn and Isobel shook hands, I sighed impatiently, which gained Shaw’s attention.
His glowing, little I’m-so-in-love-with-Isobel smile faltered. “Then this is…” Blatantly turning away from me again, he picked up the redhead’s credit card and squinted at it. “Camille Blanchette.” After handing her card back to her, he finally aimed his attention to me.
I sent him a snarky little smile and waved, letting him know I was still waiting for him to listen to my grievance.
“And this…” he drew out slowly as if he were too exhausted to deal with me. “Is—”
“Gabby,” I bit out, tired of waiting on him.
Isobel turned her gaze to me, and the moment she looked at me directly, I was able to see the other side of her face, which was full of old burn wounds.
Oh damn. That must’ve hurt. A lot.
Suddenly feeling crappy for being so moody and upset just because some guy wouldn’t stop buying me flowers, I cleared my throat. “Gabriella Salazar, ma’am,” I added humbly, realizing I probably shouldn’t have come here at all. In the grand scheme of things, my complaint was frankly kind of ridiculous. Certainly much smaller than other tribulations people suffered through, like getting half their face burned off. Maybe I was overreacting.
I could just ignore Diego. I had so far; it wouldn’t be that much of a nuisance.
“You have a beautiful store here,” I added lamely, wondering how bad it would look if I simply turned around and ran.
While Isobel nodded her greeting, Kaitlynn leaned toward the other woman—Camille—and explained to her, “Gabby lives with her dad and younger brother in the same building as me and your grandma.”
I glanced over, wondering who Camille’s grandmother was, just as Kaitlynn told me, “She’s Mabel Blanchette’s granddaughter.”
“Oh!” Oh, wow. “I love Mabel,” I told Camille. “She’s such a badass.”
I’d gone to Mabel’s apartment on Halloween night too, but she’d left a note on her door, saying she would be spending the evening at her granddaughter’s house and therefore wouldn’t be home to give anyone candy.
Maybe this was the granddaughter she’d meant.
Camille grinned over my compliment and agreed, “She is.”
Across the counter from us, Isobel listened to Shaw explain my situation. “…So she wants us to stop selling flowers to this guy who’s buying them from us because he’s stalking her with them and won’t stop giving her more bouquets.”
“Oh dear,” Isobel murmured before focusin
g on me. “I’m so sorry. Have you gone to the police about it?”
I rolled my eyes. “They don’t care. Not until he actually does something threatening, anyway.”
I tried to explain Diego as best I could, and Isobel seemed to understand.
“Next time he comes in,” she offered, nodding astutely, “Shaw will have a talk with him about respecting a woman’s prerogative.”
This was news to Shaw. His eyes widened as he blurted, “I will?” But one look from Isobel seemed to melt him, and he ended up agreeing with her without a fight.
Damn, it must be really good sex between them. The poor guy was mush around her.
Kaitlynn glanced my way as if to share a smile, letting me know she was having the same thought, but something behind me seemed to catch her attention. A second later, her eyes flared wide and she gasped, “Oh my God. Oh my God!” before she spun away, thrust the roses I’d given her at an unsuspecting Camille before she dove to the floor so she could half crawl, half hobble behind a bookcase to hide.
I blinked after her, glanced at Camille—who glanced right back with the same expression of perplexed surprise—and then we both turned to Shaw and Isobel, who looked similarly stumped.
In the next instant, the bell above the door rang.
The four of us still standing around the counter focused on the newcomer in unison, since he was obviously the reason Kaitlynn had freaked and hid.
My eyebrows lifted as a hot man in a three-piece suit entered.
Mmm. Nice.
Who was this? And why had he caused Kaitlynn to flee? Needing my curiosity appeased, I stuck around to learn as much as I could.
“Hey, man,” Shaw greeted hot suit guy as if they were old friends. “How’s it going?”
Mr. Suit sent him an irritated frown, which clearly translated as: it’s Monday. How the fuck do you think it’s going?
Then he turned to Isobel and lowered his voice to that personal pitch that meant he knew her well, and he said, “You have a minute to talk?”