“What the hell are you doing at a florist this early in the morning? Did someone die?”

Why did I blurt out where I was to Wells? Sweet Jesus, it’s Monday morning, and my head’s still not right after how things ended between me and Emma Jane the night of the gala.

“Just let it go,” I mutter into my cell phone with clenched teeth.

“I’m over here at the office—been here since five this morning—and I could use something to distract me from the messages from the city council about how hellfire and damnation will be brought upon the lovely city of Mobile if we allow a grocery store that offers primarily organic foods to be built in the downtown area. The same downtown area whose population is growing in vast numbers.”

“The same downtown area that only has one old, rinky-dink grocery store,” I supply, shaking my head as I peruse the various flowers in the shop. “That’s why they need more freethinking people on the council. People who aren’t against any form of growth or addition but still appreciate ways to keep the quaint and historical relevance of the city.”

“Exactly.” Wells pauses. “Think you’d consider running for councilman? And what are you doing at the florist again?”

I make a face even though I know he can’t see it. “Not a chance. And I’m getting a dai—”

That sneaky fucker.

“Ah.” There’s no missing the smugness in his tone. “A flower for your Southern belle. Just like old times.”

“That’s enough out of you.”

He just laughs. “I’ll let you get to your flower picking. Good luck.”

We end our call and I finally spy a lone daisy in the top portion of one of the refrigerated sections. I open the door and reach up to snag it when I hear a female voice.

“Good morning, Pete.”

“Morning, Ms. Emma Jane.” I can hear the warmth in the shop employee’s voice. It doesn’t surprise me that the older man has taken to her since she’s always had a way about her that makes everyone like her. “I saved one for you, and it’s—”

He stops, and I know it’s because he’s just noticed me. Grasping the stem of the flower, I pluck it from the container and close the door to the case before turning around.

“Oh, dear.” This comes from Pete.

“Oh.” My eyes land on Emma Jane and I watch as her eyes flicker back and forth between me and the flower I’m currently holding. Finally, she turns to Pete and offers an overly bright smile. “Thanks anyway, Pete. I’ll check back tomorrow.” With a quick wave, her heels click in rapid staccato and she’s gone.

Heading over to the cash register, I hand my card to Pete who looks a bit torn between confusion and dismay. “Not to worry.” I wink. “It just so happens this flower’s intended for her.”

“Oh, I see.” His expression relaxes instantly, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank heavens.” He slides my card through the reader, and a soft smile plays at his lips. “When she stops in, she’s like a bright ray of sunshine, and I hate to disappoint her on the rare occasions I don’t have a daisy for her.” With narrowed eyes, he gives me a sharp look while we wait for the credit card slip to print out. “You’re on the up-and-up, though, aren’t you?”

Am I? I’m caught off guard by his question. “Yes, sir.”

He eyes me hard before ripping off the receipt and sliding it across the counter for my signature. Pete hands me a pen, and I accept it, but he holds tight, waiting for me to meet his gaze again.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that lovely woman’s been hurt by a man. I also know she’s not the modern type who shacks up with some young buck. She’s a white picket fence woman.”

I once thought the same thing, I muse to myself.

Long after I exit the shop and head to the office with a flower in hand, Pete’s earlier words stay with me.

“That lovely woman’s been hurt by a man.”

I’m dying to know exactly who hurt her.

And wonder if she realizes just how much she once hurt me.

* * *

“Good morning. Again.”

I greet Emma Jane, stepping into her office, and place the daisy in her vase. I fill it with water from her small restroom off the corner of her office before placing it on her table.

“Thank you.” Her tone is subdued and almost tentative.

“You’re welcome.” I take a seat in one of the chairs facing her desk. “I also have good news. You have an assistant again.”

Her shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank God.” She flashes me a pained smile. “Lord have mercy on this poor woman because she’s going to have her work cut out for her.”

There’s a knock on the open door, and we both turn to find Keri Mitchell, the intern and Emma Jane’s new temporary assistant, standing there.

“Come in,” I wave her inside and gesture to the chair beside me. “Take a seat and we can fill you in on everything.”

Emma Jane smiles at Keri. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have some help again. I hope you aren’t intimidated by a bit of a larger workload than normal because”—she waves a hand toward three thick files on her desk—“we’re in the process of trying to close a few deals and executing some proposals.”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” I rise from my seat. “I look forward to seeing the upcoming proposals in the next few weeks.” With a polite nod and smile, I leave the office.

I can’t lie and say the disappointment of no longer having an excuse to work closely with Emma Jane and offer a helping hand doesn’t weigh heavily on me.

* * *

“I know. Love you, too.”

I step forward into the office a few days later, watching as Emma Jane sets her cell phone aside, already jotting notes in the margin of some printouts.

“How’s everything working out?”

Her head snaps up in surprise before she regains her composure. “Oh, everything’s fine. Thank you.”

I reach back and pull the door closed behind me. Stepping closer to the chairs facing where she’s seated at her desk, I lower my voice. “I just wanted to check and see how things were going with Ms. Mitchell.”

“Everything’s coming along well. She’s been a huge help.” Emma Jane drops her pen and leans back slightly. “She’s gone above and beyond, in fact, and asked me to increase the work I’ve been giving her.” She gives a little laugh and shakes her head, a stray strand of hair coming loose from her loose bun. “Guess that’s what being a young twenty-something is all about.”

“Ah, now.” I smile while slipping my hands in my pockets to prevent the further urging of my fingers to slide that piece of hair behind her ear. Because I know if I touch her in any way, it’ll be all over. “You speak like you’re an old fogey already.”

“I turned thirty last year.” She makes a face. “It’s all downhill from here.”

“But you just keep getting more beautiful as you go.”

I have no idea where the hell that came from, but it’s clear that I’ve managed to startle not only myself but her as well.

Clearing my throat, I avert my eyes to her table where there’s a pathetic, wilted daisy. “You should have told me. I would’ve picked one up for you.”

Silence greets my comment, and it lasts so long that I finally turn to look at her. She continues to study me and then parts her lips to respond.

Just when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens.

“Ms. Haywood, I have the—” Keri falters slightly. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Emma Jane before tentatively offering, “Should I come back later?”

“No,” Emma Jane answers quickly. “I believe Mr. Montgomery and I are finished.” She shoots me a questioning look.

With a brief nod, I make my way to the door. “I’ll touch base with you on that proposal later, Ms. Haywood.”