I even considered calling Lincoln—I had his number on his order form—and asking for Monroe’s. But that felt like a breach of professionalism I couldn’t bring myself to cross. So instead, I just daydreamed, remembering our time together, and hoped I’d find a reasonable excuse to reach out.
Zoe and Lenore were just about to leave for lunch, and I had decided I was going to close the shop for the lunch hour, when Zoe stuck her head through the door to the back room and cleared her throat for my attention. When I turned, her expression was worried.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, standing and crossing to her.
“There’s a customer here, a little frantic, and asking to see you.” She bit her lip. Zoe wasn’t one for confrontation, and something about this customer had set her on edge.
“I’ll take care of it. Head on out. See you in an hour.” I patted her shoulder as I swept by her, and didn’t miss her sigh of relief.
When I walked into the showroom, I somehow wasn’t surprised to see Monroe. What was worrying was the almost panic on his face.
“I need flowers,” he blurted, striding toward me.
I couldn’t help but laugh, and hoped that my humor would help him calm down. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. What can I get for you?”
“I need something that says ‘I’m sorry.’”
I didn’t know who he needed to apologize to, but that didn’t matter. And when the little sinister voice in the back of my head reminded me of his ex, I firmly pushed it away. He’d either tell me or he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t my place to push. Instead, I smiled wider and said, “No problem. What are you looking for? What kind of flowers?”
“I don’t know.” Monroe shook his head, stepped closer, then backed up. He was usually so confident that this display of nerves was unsettling. “Can you just make something that you would like as apology flowers?”
“I can do that,” I assured him, heading for the fridge. Then I tossed over my shoulder, “Does this person have a vase?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, then. Give me a minute.” I knew exactly what I wanted. Yellow roses, yellow and white Gerber daisies, a bit of greenery and a hint of baby’s breath to round everything out. It didn’t take me long to cut and arrange the bouquet to my satisfaction. Then I tied it with a yellow ribbon and reached for the cellophane.
“Don’t need that,” Monroe muttered, striding over.
“Okay then.” I handed him the bouquet and he smiled.
“This is beautiful. It looks like you.”
I smiled, pleased, then headed to the register to ring him up. I was desperate to know who they were for, but I literally bit my tongue to keep from asking. I gave Monroe the “friends and family” discount, ran his card, then handed it back with the receipt.
Monroe stuffed the items into his pocket, his gaze boring into mine. A grin spread across his face and he held out the bouquet to me.
“I’m sorry.”
I gasped in surprise, then started laughing. “Monroe!”
“Take them and my sincere apology.” He leaned against the counter so he was in my space. “I’m sorry about the other night. How things ended and that I didn’t get your number. I’m sorry it’s taken me two days to get over here and see you again.”
I took the bouquet because he was so damn earnest and charming, then inhaled deeply because I did love the scent of roses. “You could have called the shop, you know,” I teased, but when his face fell, I was quick to reassure him. “There’s no need to apologize. We hadn’t planned anything. We never talked about what would happen next. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
His eyes went wide, then he narrowed them. “I thought I made my intentions clear. If I made you think I wasn’t serious about dating you—”
“No, no.” I didn’t want him thinking that for one more second. “Not at all. I just meant that we hadn’t talked about it, so it’s not like you broke your word. I thought we’d meet up again eventually and figure it all out.”
“Oh.” He blew out a breath. “Well, good. Because I am serious. I want to date you.” He cocked his head to the side, and the grin he gave me was downright wicked. “And fuck you, to be bluntly honest. But dating, that’s the big thing.”
I sucked in a breath, and Monroe’s gaze heated. Without invitation, he strode around the counter. He held out a hand, and I placed my palm in his. With a controlled yank, he had me pressed up against him, and I squeaked as the flowers caught between us. Monroe laughed, and took them from me to gently set them on the counter.