Читать книгу The New Guy In Town - Teresa Southwick - Страница 9
ОглавлениеJust because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a gorgeous one. That explained Faith Connelly’s little heart flutter as Sam Hart walked briskly across the elegant lobby of his financial building before stopping in front of her flower cart.
“Don’t tell me,” she said to him. “You need to order a breakup bouquet. I can tell by the look on your face that date number two tanked.”
“That’s harsh.” But Sam smiled a slow, sexy smile that said she was right and the date from hell was completely his fault. He wore his willingness to own the blame like a badge of honor. “And how can you know that? Maybe I’m here to tell you that it was love at first sight.”
“Right.” She made a scoffing sound. “And I kissed a frog into a handsome prince. Seriously, Sam, do you want the usual sentiment on the card? ‘You’re fantastic, but this isn’t going to work.’ Or there’s the ever-popular ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I can get more creative with the message if you’d like.”
He slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. He could wear jeans to work because he owned a multimillion-dollar financial company and set the dress code. Sometimes he wore a suit and that was a swoon-worthy look, too. “Give me a for instance.”
She thought for a moment then met his skeptical gaze. “How about this? It’s short, sweet, to the point and kind of poetic really. ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. This won’t work because you’re a shrew.’”
His mouth twitched, then he shook his head and laughed. When he did that he was so handsome it should be illegal. His brown hair was cut short, but there were hints that it would be curly if allowed to grow. The straight nose and square jaw alone would have women throwing their panties at him, but it was his eyes that sealed the deal. They were dark blue and full of glitter and sin and danger—if a girl wasn’t careful.
“Don’t give up your day job to write inspirational verses for greeting cards,” he said.
“The thought never crossed my mind. I love working with the flowers. And another perk of my job is torturing you about your women.”
“My women?” He put on an innocent act, pretending indignation. “You make me sound like the pharaoh with forty-seven wives.”
“If the shoe fits...” She was teasing. Mostly.
Since he’d moved to Blackwater Lake, Montana a few months ago, Sam Hart had quickly become a hot topic of gossip. Because he was definitely hot, and that made the gossip juicier. His looks weren’t all women noticed, though that lean, athletic body made more than one female heart skip a beat. When you factored in his impressive net worth as a member of the wealthy Hart family, attention from the opposite sex looking for love—or just a wealthy husband—was a fact of life. It was a dirty job, but someone had to be the town’s most eligible bachelor.
His expression turned adorably self-effacing and wounded. “You have no faith in me, Faith.”
“Really?” She tsked. “How long have you been trying to work that into a conversation with me?”
“Probably since we met.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But here’s the thing—I like women and they seem to like me. You’re judging, Miss Connelly, and not in a good way. I’m picking up shades of assumption from you. Why is that? I’m a swell guy.”
“If you’re trying to seduce me, Sam, I should probably tell you that it’s not working.” And never would.
“Darn.” He snapped his fingers. “How can you be so sure?”
Besides the fact that she believed love was a four-letter word, the bad kind, she knew he was a player. “Seriously? No one knows you better than the plant lady.”
“You do have a way with flowers,” he said, looking all meek and faux innocent.
“And you have a way with women. That makes you one of my best customers.” She held up her fingers to count the ways. “A single yellow rose on the first date to indicate sunny feelings, warmth and welcome. The color holds no overtones of romance and indicates purely platonic emotions.”
“So you told me.” There was amusement in those blue eyes. “And you were right. It’s a crowd-pleaser.”
“The second date you buy a mixed bouquet so there’s no hint of commitment. If things don’t go well, there will be a lovely and tasteful arrangement to let a lady know not to wait by the phone for a call that will never come.” She met his gaze. “FYI, I always use peonies in the arrangement to indicate their indignation and your shame.”
“Do you put that on the card?”
“It’s enough that I know the significance,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He frowned slightly. “And you see this flower fetish of mine as a flaw?”
“On the contrary. It’s a public service. A woman always knows where she stands with you.”
“Just out of curiosity, what’s the appropriate bloom to offer on a third date?” he asked.
“Good question. I’d have to do some research. But never, under any circumstances, go with lavender. It conveys enchantment, as in love at first sight.” Faith studied him again. “Why are you asking about a third date? Do you want to give me breaking news? Is there something I should know? Maybe someone who has snagged a cherished and sought-after third-time’s-the-charm date with the elusive Sam Hart? Do I need an inventory change? Possibly to get ready for a wedding?”
“God forbid. Why would you say that?”
“Because a third date with you almost never happens, Sam.”
“That can’t be true.” His expression turned thoughtful, obviously trying to come up with something to prove her wrong, and then he sighed. “Am I that predictable?”
“Sadly, yes,” she said smugly.
“Wow. Remind me to change things up.”
“Not on my account. If you ever settle down, my bottom line will seriously suffer. A money guy like you should understand that.” She leveled her index finger in his direction to emphasize her point. “And I can’t afford to jeopardize my revenue stream while saving to put Phoebe through college.”
“Your daughter is eight.” His voice was wry. “You’ve got ten years.”
“A single mom has to plan carefully.” Because thanks to her bastard ex-husband, who walked out on her when she got pregnant, she was raising her daughter alone.
“Well, never fear, plant lady. I’m not getting married.” His devil-may-care air slipped, a tell that he would only commit to dodging a trip down the aisle.
“That sounds fairly adamant.”
“Because it is,” he confirmed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. If the single women of Blackwater Lake found out they have no chance to win your affections, it could cramp your style.” Although women had a bad habit of believing they could be the one to change a man’s mind. Faith wasn’t one of them, however. “And your style is going to pad my daughter’s education fund.”
“It’s good to know that professional confidentiality is for lawyers, doctors and florists.”
His blunt admission fertilized her curiosity about his aversion to matrimony but the whys of it were a conversation for another day. “So where should I deliver the breakup bouquet?”
“I haven’t confirmed I’m ordering one.” He stopped as something occurred to him. “Do you really call it that?”
“Of course. I could do a whole marketing campaign on it thanks to you.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not making fun of you—”
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
“Okay, I am.” She grinned. “But I do it with a great deal of affection.” And a fair amount of flirting.
Her inner flirt had been in permanent time-out until she’d met Sam Hart. He was a walking, talking warning about why she’d sworn off men. Lack of commitment. Flitting from one woman to the next. Pretty to look at but shallow as a cookie sheet. The silver lining was that the reminder came with built-in caution to never let her interaction with him be more than business. Hence, he was safe to flirt with.
“Okay, then, at the risk of making you even more insufferable than you already are, I’d like to send a lovely, tasteful bouquet. With peonies,” he added.
It was really hard not to gloat. But she was nothing if not a plant professional. “Where would you like it delivered? And what’s the name on the card?”
“Blackwater Lake Lodge—”
“Ah. A tourist.”
“Really?” His tone scolded her.
“Not judging,” she said quickly. “Just an observation. A name would be helpful.”
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Kiki Daniels. And don’t you dare—”
“Never crossed my mind,” she lied, pressing her lips together to suppress a smile or any words that might try to slip out.
“I don’t believe you.” He gave her the room number and instructed her to put it on the credit card she had on file for him. “You’re dying to say something so spit it out before you explode.”
“Okay. Does she look like a Kiki? I mean perky and—” she held her hands out in front of her chest “—lots of personality? Long blond hair and flaky as a French pastry?”
“Wow,” he said. “Stereotype much?”
“It’s just that I know you so it’s not exactly stereotyping.” She had an order pad and pen ready. “What do you want the card to say?”
He thought for a moment. “‘It’s been fun. Best of luck.’ Sign it Sam.”
“Past tense and positive. Got it.” She jotted down the words. “I’ll take care of this for you. Anything else?”
“Yes, actually. My parents are in town and it’s my mother’s birthday. I’ve put off shopping because the woman has everything.” He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“I can do a beautiful arrangement. What’s her favorite color?”
He stared at her for several moments. “I didn’t know there would be a pop quiz. And don’t even think about asking what her favorite flower is.”
“What kind of a son are you? How can you not know your mother’s favorite color?” She was teasing.
“Hold that thought.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. A moment later he said, “Ellie, I need some information. Okay. You’re right. That was abrupt. Hi, how are you?” There was an impatient look on his face as he listened. “Glad to hear it. What’s mom’s favorite color and flower?” He nodded. “Got it. Thanks. See you tonight at dinner.” He met her gaze. “Star lilies. And pink.”
“Excellent. Pink ribbon it is.” She wrote down his sister’s address which was where his parents were staying. “I’ll go back to the store and put together something very special for her and deliver it on my way home.”
“Thanks, Faith.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“That should do it.” He smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime. Enjoy your evening.”
Faith watched him walk out the building’s double glass doors and objectively analyzed the man’s butt. On a scale of one to ten his was an eleven and a half, which made her sigh. There was no denying she loved owning her business and working with flowers. The colors and scent of the blooms. Putting different ones together for a colorful and creative effect. Everything.
Then Sam Hart had moved to town and turned into a lucrative account. Work became a lot more interesting, not just from teasing him, but because it gave her a chance to deliver flowers and get a look at the women he rejected. Somehow it was comforting to know that perfectly pretty women didn’t have perfect lives any more than she did.
But it also made her curious. Every woman she’d met so far had been both beautiful and nice, which made her wonder why not even one of them had earned date number three. Someday she was going to find out what was up with that. So sue her—she was female and liked gossip as much as any other female in Blackwater Lake.
* * *
A week after his mother’s birthday, Sam Hart was talking to his sister on the phone. He leaned back in his office chair and glanced at the paperwork on his desk. The sheer volume was a measure of his success, which should make him happy. Should being the operative word. He thought moving closer to Ellie and her family and his brother Linc, who’d recently relocated, would make his restlessness go away. It hadn’t.
He loved his work, assessing risk and evaluating financial products for banking customers. Handling commercial and real estate loans. Managing grants for enterprising small business owners. A vision of Faith Connelly popped into his mind and her flower shop—Every Bloomin’ Thing.
The pretty plant lady had approached him on his first day in this new building—Hart Financial, LLC. She’d negotiated a price to lease space in the lobby for her flower cart, making the case that his clients might benefit from the convenience. Just limited hours at first because she had to cover her main store in downtown Blackwater Lake.
As office occupancy in the building increased and foot traffic grew, she would hire another employee to work the cart while she took care of the shop. Until then customers would have to deal with her. He smiled, recalling her rhyming blue with shrew. Not only was she pretty, but she always made him laugh. Since his protracted and ugly divorce he hadn’t laughed all that much, so it was noteworthy.
“Sam? Are you listening to me?” The pitch of Ellie’s voice sharpened.
“Of course.” He hoped there wasn’t a test. “You were telling me how much mom liked the birthday flowers.”
“‘Liked’ is an understatement. You get the son-of-the-year award. Possibly a lifetime achievement plaque. Cal sent a gift card and Linc took her to dinner. But she said the star lilies in that bouquet made her day. The scent was magical. In fact, I can still smell them a whole week later.”
Sam wasn’t about to mention Faith and share the credit. He planned to ride this hero thing as long as it would run. “I’m glad she liked them.”
“Not to change the subject, but...have you heard about the fire on Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah.” Sam swiveled his chair and looked out his office window. Clouds of red-tinged black smoke rose from the tree line to the west and curved up the hill. Fortunately it was moving away from town. “Any news on containment?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she admitted. “And this wind is going to make it tough on the firefighters. The last I heard they’re calling in reinforcements from all over Montana. Quite a few homes are threatened.”
“Looks like it’s pretty far away from your place.”
“It is,” she confirmed. “We’re close to the lake and the fire is out near isolated cabins and neighborhoods of older homes at the foot of the mountain.”
Sam’s new place wasn’t far from his sister’s so it was safe, too. “Do they know how it started?”
“Lightning ignited dry brush. It’s August and there hasn’t been much rain. This is a problem every summer.”
“The price we pay for the beautiful scenery. And Mother Nature can be a wicked mistress.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Didn’t mean to keep you. I just wanted you to know how much Mom enjoyed the flowers while she was here. She asked me to tell you goodbye and that she’ll be back to visit soon.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I’m glad she liked her birthday gift. Talk to you later, Ellie.”
“Love you. Bye.”
He hit the end call button and took a last look at the smoke. It was unsettling. Another way one’s life could be turned upside down in an instant.
He looked at the paperwork on his desk and sighed. There wasn’t anything here that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. After shutting down his computer, he left his office on the building’s top floor and rode the elevator to the lobby. Faith’s cart, with its cheerful sign, Every Bloomin’ Thing, and the fragrance of flowers always lifted his spirits.
She was there and he walked over. It looked as if she was packing up for the day. Her long strawberry blond hair was pulled into a messy side bun and long bangs touched her thick eyelashes. Warm brown eyes made her coloring unique and the sprinkle of freckles across her straight nose was pretty cute. She was smart, sassy and every guy’s little sister.
Today he didn’t have a date and wasn’t breaking up with anyone so his only excuse for stopping was to thank her again for her efforts and let her know the bouquet she’d arranged had been a big hit with his mother.
“Hi,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder, then set down the long-stemmed flowers she’d been about to move for transport. “Hi, yourself. Got a hot date tonight?”
“No. Despite what you seem to think, my social life isn’t all that active.”
“I noticed you’ve been slacking since your mom came to visit.” She nodded knowingly. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“Do you talk this way to all your customers?”
“No, actually. Just you.”
“Should I feel special?” he asked, not in the least offended.
“If you’re not, I didn’t do it right.”
“So you admit to deliberately provoking me?”
“It’s the best part of my day.” The words were teasing, but her eyes didn’t have their customary impertinence. “Is there something you need?”
“No. I just wanted to let you know my mother loved the birthday arrangement.”
“Good.” She transferred the flowers to a small hand cart used for moving her inventory from her van to the lobby stand.
“I wanted to thank you. It was a last-minute order and meant keeping you late. The effort is much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome. If you could give me a Facebook like and say something about my exemplary customer service that would be great.”
It flashed through his mind to offer to buy her a drink or dinner as a thank-you but his internal warning system flagged and shut down that thought. He knew the difference between good and bad risk, and an invitation to dinner fell into the really bad column. As the newcomer to Blackwater Lake he was trying to fit in and, as Faith had pointed out more than once, his romantic record was abysmal. Dating and dropping the town sweetheart would not win him the hearts and minds of the locals.
“Are you in a hurry?” It seemed to him that she was distracted while she packed up to go. Now that he thought about it, he was leaving work earlier than usual and normally she was here as he walked out the door, so this was really early for her. “Do you have a date?”
“Oh, please...”
He noted the blush that slid into her cheeks. The color reminded him of a pink rose. He recalled the first time he’d bought one and her warning him away from pink or red because the shade symbolized a deepening of feeling. “It’s a reasonable question. You’re not bad-looking for a smartass.”
“Be still, my heart.” She rested her hands on the counter between them. “Careful, Sam. Words like that could turn a girl’s head.”
“That was nothing more than a simple statement of fact. Let me use the rose metaphor to explain.”
“Please do.” A brief flash of amusement crossed her face.
“Just like you, a rose is beautiful. And then you open your mouth and out come the thorns to jab a guy.”
“And yet you keep coming back. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment.” Her inner smartass couldn’t be silenced for long. “Maybe I should leave the thorns on the first-date roses for you. No pain, no gain. It could work in your favor to get you a third date.”
“That twisted logic presupposes I want one.”
“That is an intriguing clue into the mystery of Sam Hart. You have no idea how it pains me not to pursue it.” She glanced past him to wicked, billowing smoke clearly visible from the tall glass lobby windows. “But you’re right. I’m in a hurry, and not because I have a date.”
“Then what’s so urgent? Is your daughter okay?”
“The fire isn’t far from my house. I need to go pack some things for Phoebe and me, just in case we have to evacuate. She’s fine,” Faith added.
“Good.” There was a splash of apprehension in her expression that touched him because it was so different from her usually brazen, audacious behavior. She was every guy’s sister and if Ellie’s house was in the fire’s path he would do anything to keep her safe. “Can I do something to help?”
“Thanks, Sam.” She smiled a little. “But I’ve got it covered.”
“What about your daughter?”
“She’s at summer camp. Cabot Dixon’s ranch. The wind is blowing the fire away from them. He and his wife will keep her until I can pick her up.”
“Okay. Then at least let me help you move the flowers back to your store in town. It will be faster,” he pointed out.
She wanted to say no. Even a spreadsheet nerd who crunched numbers for a living could see that. But she nodded and said, “Thanks.”
Together they got all the flowers on the flat hand cart, then locked up ribbons, tissue paper, cellophane and all the other supplies she kept here. She secured the credit card receipts and cash in her purse, then gave him a nod to head for the exit. Before they took a step, Blackwater Lake’s mayor walked into the lobby and straight over to Faith.
Mayor Loretta Goodson-McKnight was an attractive brunette somewhere in her late fifties, but it was asking for trouble to put even a ballpark number on a woman’s age. Today she looked a little older and that probably had something to do with the natural disaster she was dealing with. It was her job to coordinate resources and the emergency response. Judging by the expression on her face, whatever she had to say wasn’t good.
“Faith, I’ve got some bad news.” The mayor got straight to the point. “We just received word that there’s an evacuation order for everyone who lives near Crawford’s Crest.”
“That’s where my house is.”
“I know.” The woman’s voice softened and her expression was sympathetic. “I’m on my way to the staging area right now for an update from the fire captain and wanted to let you know myself.”
“And I appreciate it more than you know. I’ll just go to the house and grab a few things for us.”
The mayor shook her head. “They won’t let you through. The sheriff has blocked off the road. You can’t go home, honey.”
Faith blinked as the meaning of it all sank in and shock took over. “Oh my God. You mean I could really lose it—”
The woman started talking, telling her about everything being done—tankers dropping fire-retardant chemicals and water on the blaze. Firefighters were clearing the brush, trying to deprive the fire of fuel to burn and slow it down so they could surround it. But Sam saw the worry on her face and what she was leaving out. No one could control the wind that was fanning the flames, limiting the ability of ordinary men to save the structures in the fire’s path.
“All your neighbors are getting out. That’s a lot of people to find shelter for.”
Sam watched the color drain from Faith’s face and had the most absurd desire to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be fine.
“Faith, honey, we’d rather keep evacuees in private homes as opposed to setting up temporary quarters in the high school gym. You know how people in this town pull together when there’s a crisis. My office has lined up volunteers and we’ve almost got everyone covered. You and Phoebe can stay at my house. It’s pretty full, but we have air mattresses and floor space in the living room.”
Apparently Sam’s male chromosomes, the ones that made him want to fix a problem rather than just stand by and listen, kicked into gear. That was the only explanation for what came out of his mouth. That and the fact that there was no way he would let them sleep on air mattresses, even if it was in the mayor’s living room.
He touched Faith’s arm. “You and Phoebe can stay with me.”
