Page 7 of Not Just Gal Pals

Dinner with Blake had gone better than expected. Yes, conversation had been stilted, and she’d been curt and dismissive a few times, but every so often, I’d get flash of the Blake everyone else knew and liked. Having said that, I was relieved when Blake excused herself shortly after finishing her steak, citing a headache. If our strained small talk had continued much longer, I probably would have been struck down with one as well.

Just before Blake arrived at the pub, I’d discovered another animal activist had tagged me in a TikTok video, sending my stomach and my follower count plummeting even further. Meanwhile, my fall flannel post was still not performing well. At least preparations for Amanda's bachelorette party were a welcome distraction from my algorithmic woes. Since Blake had a demanding day job and I did not, I’d offered to do all the grunt work.

I reached my destination, the florist, with no awkward Blake encounters and pushed open the shop door, a rush of sweet-scented warm air greeting me. Olivia Mitchell, the owner of the florist shop—and yes, Blake’s younger sister—looked up from the flowers she was arranging, her eyes crinkling as her face broke into a big smile.

“Jenny! How lovely to see you. How’s Walter? You should have brought him with you.” Olivia and Blake shared the same dark hair and lashes, big brown eyes, strong jawline, and full lips, but that was where the resemblance ended. Olivia was warm and friendly, wore her wavy brown hair cut just above her shoulders, and had an impressive wardrobe of floral clothes. Today she was wearing a loose-fitting dress covered in red flowers and brown ankle boots. How the hell had they turned out so different?

“He’s good. Great, actually. He loves Mom and Dad’s yard. Much better than my tiny apartment in LA. I would have brought him, but I’m running a few errands this morning and thought he’d slow me down. I’m actually here to purchase some flowers.”

“Oooh! How can I help?” Olivia’s eyes lit up.

“So…and this is a surprise, so please don’t tell Amanda…” I said, conscious of just how small Sapphire Springs was. “We’re doing a Jane Austen-themed afternoon tea at Old Cedar and dinner at Builders Arms for her bachelorette. I was hoping to get some flowers to decorate the event room at Builders Arms to make it a bit more Pride and Prejudice and a bit less…”—I searched for the words—“pints and penises?” God, that was terrible, but Olivia giggled. So different from Blake, who I’m sure would have responded with an unimpressed stare. “I’m, um, on a budget. So, if you have any suggestions that aren’t too pricey, that would be great.”

“I’d love to help. If you only need them for tomorrow, I have some gorgeous flowers I haven’t sold this week. They’d be perfect for this, and I could give them to you at cost since they’re on their way out.”

“Oh wow, that would be amazing, thank you.” Given my financial situation, at-cost price was music to my ears. Blake and I hadn’t discussed money last night, so I was proceeding on the basis that any money I spent would be coming out of my own depleted pockets.

“Since Amanda’s buying all her wedding flowers from me, it’s the least I can do.”

Olivia bustled about, gathering flowers and animatedly talking me through her ideas for the flower arrangements. While she was showing me some pink dahlias in the back corner of the store, I spotted a display of candles. I had a weakness for warm baths with lavender candles, but my parents’ house was disappointingly candle free. After agreeing the dahlias would make a gorgeous centerpiece, I drifted over to the candle display and began inspecting them. While their packaging was plain—brown glass jars and simple white labels—their scents were not. Bourbon and wood smoke. Peach and cedarwood. Pear and bergamot. Coffee and leather.

I inhaled them deeply, closing my eyes and feeling slightly giddy from excess oxygen. They were divine. “These all smell incredible.” I inspected the labels more closely, wondering if I’d be able to find a store that stocked them in LA when my financial situation improved, but they revealed nothing. “Do you know where they’re made?” I looked up at Olivia, who was pink-cheeked and smiling.

“They’re made here...by me. I started it as a hobby last year and then decided to make some to sell in the shop. I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them! I consider myself quite the candle connoisseur, and these are really, really good.” Now I knew Olivia had made the candles herself, I had to buy some. The peach-and-cedarwood candles would add ambience at dinner tomorrow night, and I could take what was left back to my parents’ house to enjoy for the rest of my stay. And the bourbon-and-wood-smoke one would be perfect as the weather got colder. “I’ll take three of the peach, and one bourbon.”

Olivia carefully wrapped the candles in paper and then placed them in a cardboard box. “Here you go. Enjoy! And I’ll have the flowers ready for you tomorrow morning.”

I walked back down Main Street with a spring in my step, pleased with my purchases. I couldn’t wait to lower myself into a warm, relaxing bath with a good book and a candle lit.

As I reached Blake’s clinic, I resisted the temptation to peer in. Instead, I stared across the road, pretending to admire the foliage on a particularly vibrant tree. Unfortunately, my pretense was too successful. I completely missed the door of the clinic opening and someone walking out until...wham! I walked, box of candles and all, right into them.

“Ouch!” yelped the person.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said as the person staggered back.

My heart sank.

Blake.

Of course it was Blake.

I put the box on the ground, hoping the candles had survived the impact. “Are you okay?”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Blake said abruptly, her voice gruff.

“I’m sorry.” I tried to think of an explanation other than, I was trying to avoid you, which ironically resulted in me running right into you, but I came up blank.

“You could really injure someone storming down the street like that.” Disapproval was clear in Blake’s voice. My chest tightened. Seriously, what did Amanda see in this woman? And how the hell was she related to lovely Olivia?

“Just trying to help you drum up some business,” I tried joking, hiding my annoyance that Blake didn’t seem to accept it was an honest mistake.

Blake stared at me silently, unimpressed. Any warmth I’d harbored toward her after our dinner vanished. It was a genuine mistake and had only happened because I was doing her a favor.

“Okay, well, I’d better be off. I’ve got a lot of work to do for Amanda’s bachelorette. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said curtly, less than enthused at the prospect. I picked up the box and tried to walk around Blake just as she tried to walk around me the same way, and we bumped into each other again. “Shit, sorry.”

We did the awkward side-to-side dance another couple of times before Blake took control.