“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said in disbelief, looking at the paper I’d been handed by a customer just five minutes before.

“What?” Michelle asked as she put on her coat, ready to go home, but came over to look at what I held in my hand.

“Seriously?” she said, looking at me in astonishment.

“Seriously,” I answered, just as shocked.

It’d been a week since my encounter with Calder Castleman, and I’d pretty much forgotten it all. This paper I’d been handed in a manila envelope by a customer—who was really a process server and had let me politely take his order then serve him!—brought every last part of it back.

“I’ll kick his ass!” I hissed. “Go home,” I told Michelle. “Donny? You’re in charge,” I told my employee then made my way toward the flower shop. “Mara!” I called as I went through the door.

She was on the phone, typing information into the computer then held a finger up as I approached. “Okay. Yes, I can do that. Thank you.” She hung up then turning to look at me, gasped, “What’s wrong?”

I snapped the paper in my hands holding it out toward her. “I’m being sued!”

“What? By who?”

“Calder Castleman!”

“No way!”

“Yes! Oh, my God, what a dick!” I shrieked.

 “What’s it say?”

I looked at the form and read, “It is my belief that the Defendant listed above was the agent that produced the alleged defamatory statements against me.” Skimming through it, I relayed, “They therefore unlawfully caused me injuries and damages for which I seek reparations!”

“Shit.”

I kept going. “My name was explicitly mentioned…libelous/slanderous material…clearly understood by audience members…the following aspects of the material are explicitly false:  Ms. Flannigan suggested I had a sexually transmitted disease, of which I do not nor ever have had. She posted a comment on a nationally publicized web article making me appear as if I had lost all my mental faculties. Ms. Flannigan purposely sent flower orders to the wrong clients causing tremendous pain and suffering on top of emotional grief not only to me, but them as well.” I stopped and sucked in a breath. “You have got to be kidding me!”

“Wow. I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Mara declared.

Fuming, I looked back at the paper. “I seek punitive damages, compensatory damages according to proof, the cost of the lawsuit and whatever else the court sees just and fit to award. I seek payment in the amount of…” I flipped the form over to see nothing on the back. “It’s blank! What does that mean?”

She shrugged just as the phone rang then answered, “Flannigan’s Flowers and Fare, how may I help you?”

Now, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a redhead. And I’m part Irish. Fallacy or not, I do have a bad temper when it comes to shit like this. So, believe me, I was on freaking fire right about then. And I wanted to murder Calder Castleman. Ass.

Mara’s eyes went big as she looked at me. “Yes, Mr. Castleman, she’s right here.”

“Give me that!” I snarled, snatching the phone from her hand. “You’re suing me?” I yelled into the receiver.

I heard hi, chuckle before he said, “You got the papers, I see.”

"You’re suing me!” I repeated.

More chuckling. “I am.”

I narrowed my eyes and spewed, “I don’t know if you know it, but I’ve got four big brothers. Four! All I have to do is call them and they’ll come running to help their baby sister! And they won’t even flinch when I ask them to beat the shit out of you before cutting you up into tiny pieces and scattering your body parts all over D.C. and in the Potomac!”

Of course, I knew that would never happen. My brothers loved Castle and would probably take his side. But still, it felt good to threaten the son of a bitch.

“Do I need to add threats to the suit?” Castle asked calmly.

Arrrrggghhhh!

“What you need to do,” I raged, “is drop this right now before something bad happens to you!”

Ugh. There I went with the threats again, but I was pissed!

“Cut me up…scatter pieces…before something bad happens…” he rattled off like he was writing down what I’d said. “That’s just more ammo you’ve given me, Rori. Good to know your temper lives up to the red hair myth.” He laughed.

“What do you want?” I hissed seeing Mara holding a small glass of water out to me which I took and downed quickly then choked. “What the hell, Mara?”

“Patron!” she answered. “You needed something strong!”

While I gagged, Castle drawled, “What do I want?” all think-y and amused.

Ass!

“What I want is…”

When he didn’t continue straightaway, I spat, “What!”

“Go out with me.”