Page 39 of Coming Up Roses

Abi glances around the room. “I’ve no idea where I’ve left mine.” She gives a defeated little shrug. “They’ll call if it’s important.”

The phone starts to ring. Abi groans. “Fuck.”

I follow the sound and find Abi’s phone on the edge of a table, peeking out from under a pile of flowers. “It’s Emily.”

“Oh, well she can wait.” She runs a hand through her hair and slumps in the chair. “I was worried it was the bride or someone equally as terrifying.”

“The bride’s terrifying?”

“Not really. I just really don’t want to screw up her wedding day. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“I can only imagine. You sure Emily can wait?”

“Yeah, she’s my friend. Probably just wants to chat. I’ll call her back later.”

I hand Abi the phone, then stand beside her. I don’t know what to do with my hands. Since when were they soawkward.

Abi glances at the screen and taps a few times, then tips her head back, eyes closed. I refuse to let my gaze linger on the way her eyelashes fan over her cheeks or the plump curve of her bottom lip.

“Maybe it is important, what your friend wants,” I blurt out. “Since she texted and called.”

“She didn’t text,” Abigail says, not opening her eyes. “Thatwas Olivia, asking me to go up for lunch so I can update her on progress.”

“Oh, well I can give you a ride.” Yay, something that’ll actually help me feel useful.

“I can’t go,” she whispers, turning tumultuous eyes on me. There are so many feelings in them but it’s clear the most prevalent is anxiety. “I’ll have to tell her about this mess, and I just …can’t. Plus, I have to get these flowers sorted. I don’t have time.”

“You’ll get it done,” I say. I’ll stay all night and do them for her if I have to.

“And admitting to my boss that I’ve screwed up her biggest event?”

“She’s not going to blame you.”

“I’m still not telling her, Flynn.” She pushes out of her seat. “Please don’t tell her either. Please.”

God, what am I supposed to say to that pleading face. I want to tell her that Olivia will help her, not blame her. But Abi doesn’t seem willing to hear that. Her breathing stutters and she spins away. Fuck, is she about to have another panic attack?

“I won’t tell her.” The words race out of me. I don’t know if it’s the right choice, but it’s not like Abi will have to do it all on her own. I’ll be here with her, learning flower arranging, to help her get this done.

Abi turns back to me, the relief on her face evident, though her eyes are a touch glassy.

I usher her from the building. “But we are going to lunch. Come on.”

20

ABI

Flynn isn’t takingno for an answer.

I’m making him lie to his best friend and employer, so I don’t feel like I can argue anymore anyway. I tuck my phone into my back pocket, take another look at the mess waiting for me, and follow Flynn outside.

I can’t believe the roses came like this. I ordered them to come ready in their vases so all I had to do was place them onto the tables. Now, I have what feels like a billion beautiful roses and twenty-four vases that I somehow have to arrange into wedding-worthy displays. I also have to set up everything else and I have no idea how I’m going to get it all done. I’m sure the logical course of action would be to ask for help … but I’m not ready to give up yet. As generous as Olivia and Violet seem, I don’t know how they’ll react to such a monumentally epic fail. I’m also not sure what they can do because I vaguely remember there’s some farm thing that needs to happen this afternoon that involves all hands. Violet’s picking Sadie up from school and looking after her until Dallas is done for the day.

Then there’s Flynn, finally right here in front of me and I want toeathim. He looks delectable in his usual jeans and faded t-shirt. It’s a deep blue today and it sets off his hair and eyes. The t-shirt is so old it looks like it’ll fall apart if a strong gust of wind hits it, but I kind of love how Flynn doesn’t give a shit. The worn, comfortable vibe suits him.

I freeze when I step outside and find Flynn already swinging his leg over the back of his bike. Memories from the beach come rushing back. Heat prickles at my skin as I flush and a bolt of lust jolts through my core.

Then I remember the day he first got me on the bike, in my ridiculous skirt. At least I’m wearing jeans today.