Page 59 of Miss Fortune

“I’m rushing over, clearly you’re not well. Either that, or you’ve been kidnapped, and you’re trying to give me a sign by saying something you wouldn’t normally ever ask me.”

I scrubbed my face with my hand, about to hang up. “This was a mistake.”

“No, no. Wait. Are these flowers for Daisy?”

“Yes.”

I waited half a heartbeat, bracing myself for his opinion on the matter. But he carried on as if me getting her flowers was natural. “Good. So what’s the problem exactly?”

“Which flowers say romance, but not a committed, long-term relationship?”

He chuckled. “Okay, I think I get your dilemma. The color yellow is safe, although that’s what I send my mother. You could do daisies, which might or might not be cute given her name, but you risk coming off as a cheap bastard. There’s always sunflowers, but I see those a lot in the hospital for cheering up the sick. White roses could be good; however, they use them quite often for funerals.”

“You are absolutely no help.”

“Come on, what did you expect? I used to be a flower guy with my ex-wife, but she was a bitch, and never thought grocery store flowers were good enough.”

Although it had been over two years since Lucas’s divorce, I often thought he wasn’t yet over the breakup. Although, considering the way she’d left him, I’m not sure I would be over such a betrayal, either.

“Daisy would probably love it if I picked wildflowers from the side of the road. But maybe sending them to the office is a bad idea. I don’t have a clue what to say in the note.” I was starting to talk myself out of it. Romance was too complicated.

“Let me ask you something. Truthful. What is it you’re trying to achieve by sending the flowers?”

“Mostly it’s to let her know she’s on my mind even when I don’t show it.” I’d texted her Monday morning to tell her to have a good week and again on Wednesday night to tell her I was thinking about her, but neither was a gesture of romance.

“And now you have what to write in the card. My advice, send something as colorful as the woman herself. As you said, she isn’t going to care about the color or type of flower. It’s the thought that counts.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Glad you finally made a move. I like Daisy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Almost enough to acknowledge she was getting the short end of the stick by dating me.

“Hey, you interested in golf in two weeks. It’s on a Sunday morning? Early tee time, so we’d be done by noon tops.”

Lucas knew I had a threshold for relaxation on Sundays. “Yeah, send me the details.”

After I disconnected the call, I quickly selected a colorful bouquet, typed out a note, entered my credit card info, and pressed enter. They’d be delivered tomorrow to the office. Done.

Now back to regularly scheduled programming. Yet I found myself distracted from my legal work by knowing Daisy was outside my door. At least there were only two more days left in the business week, including today. On the other hand, realizing I wouldn’t see her next Monday left me feeling restless. What the hell was wrong with me? Next week, Doris would be back, and I’d be able to return to my carefully constructed routine. The one which made me miserable.

Blowing out a breath, I scrolled through my email and forced myself to stop my train of thought. I’d gone from never admitting I hated my job to thinking about how much I loathed it—on a daily basis. Such ruminations did not help me get through my billable hours.

After all I’d accomplished, to quit my professional career was unfathomable. Nope. I might have struggled to be a normal kid while growing up, failed at a marriage, and continued to battle social graces, but at least I was successful in this one area of my life.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Daisy

Four hours and thirteen minutes remaining at the firm. I wouldn’t even pretend I wasn’t counting the seconds. Not only was I tired of the strictly structured environment, but I was happy to say goodbye to “weekday Caleb.”

Sure, we were exclusively dating and had plans tonight, but seeing him every day was torture when I couldn’t touch him or garner a genuine smile. At least he’d sent me a text on Monday morning telling me to have a good week, and another on Wednesday night to tell me he was thinking about me. Something told me these missives were a huge step for him.

I blew out a long breath and went back to cleaning up Doris’s desk, putting things where they’d been six weeks ago. Come next week, Caleb and I wouldn’t have the collision between our dating and work lives, and it would be more balanced. Yet somehow I wondered if the weekends would be enough. Sure, I was busy. But if I was thinking about him on a Wednesday next week, why couldn’t I simply pop over to see him? Darn. Here I was only a week into this non-relationship and already questioning whether I was compromising too much. If I desired romance, I wasn’t sure Caleb Morrison was the guy to deliver.

Later, after returning from lunch, the receptionist called my line.

“Hi, this is Daisy.”