Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4) Page 5

  Molly swept her arm out wide and let out a belly laugh. “Why would I want to leave a life where I get to work in one of the happiest places in Granite Pointe? Where else would I have the opportunity to make dodging spilled beer into a major league sport?”

  Laughing all the way to the bar, she slipped under the counter. She gave a quick smile to a patron sitting on one of the high stools, then busied herself drawing their drinks.

  “Rough day today?” Walt asked.

  “Just some accounting trouble. I should probably hire a bookkeeper, but I want to stay on top of everything for the first six months or so. Makes me wish I’d paid better attention during my business classes in college.” Gunnar laughed, then sipped the water Molly had left on the table. “Maybe I should bring someone in now to help me understand what I’m looking at. I keep finding holes that don’t make sense to me. Maybe I should have stuck to personal training versus gym ownership. Damned if I know what the hell I was thinking.”

  They were interrupted when Molly swung by the table to deliver the pitcher of beer they’d ordered along with a sidecar glass of tomato juice for Walt. The man insisted the lycopene in eight ounces added a healthy aspect to the less than healthy beverage. Gunnar had tried it, but preferred to keep the two drinks separate.

  Gunnar took a sip of his brew and decided it was a worth the extra rep he’d have to add to tomorrow’s weight routine.

  Walt mixed the two drinks in one glass, half and half. “So now that you’ve got four months under your belt, what do you think of the personnel you inherited?” Walt asked. “I mean, besides me.”

  “You, I’m still not sure about. I mean, Buffy? What the hell kind of name is that?” Gunnar grinned. He put his glass on the table after taking another gulp. “Funny you should ask. I’ve had my eye on a couple of people I’m not so sure are going to work out. Although the sales people are doing a good job, I think we need to add more staff in that department. Business is picking up, and our membership grows a little more each month.”

  “Most of them have been around for a while. I’m surprised they took to the changes in pricing options as well as they did.”

  Gunnar grinned. “See, you can teach an old dog a new trick.”

  “Maybe some old dogs, but not all. I heard Michael grumbling in the sales office last week about some change you implemented. What did you do to turn him into a snarling monster?”

  Michael Braithwaite had been the assistant manager under the previous owner and was one of the few on staff who’d resisted the changes. “We disagreed about who to hire to run the kids’ gym. I liked one woman—he favored the other. He was pretty steamed when we finished the discussion.”

  The waitress came back with their dinner, interrupting them.

  Gunnar pulled his chicken breast and steamed vegetables toward him and picked up his knife and fork before continuing. “I think he’s trying to stack the operations department a little with his cronies. It’s almost like he’s staging a coup to take over the club.” He forked up a bit of broccoli. “You’ve worked with Michael a long time. What do you know about him?”

  Walt chewed, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know he was a trainer before being promoted to operations. We’ve never meshed, personality or philosophy-wise. I believe the three Ds, diet, drive, and discipline, are the best ways to achieve goals. Michael likes shortcuts too much for my taste. And that applies to his work ethic and his personal life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s tried to pick up women at the gym and finds it difficult to take no for an answer. He’s scared off more than one of my clients by being too aggressive.”

  “I didn’t see anything about that in his personnel file.”

  “You wouldn’t. The former owner is his brother.”

  “Ah, so the sweet smell of nepotism covered the stench of bad behavior. I had no idea. They don’t have the same last name.”

  “Different dads. They tried to keep it all hush-hush when Michael started working here, but the guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was a widely known secret by the end of his first month.” Walt finished his meal and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “You know Malin Eckert? He hit on her, and she complained to management. After that, Michael got downright nasty toward her. She almost quit but decided to give him a piece of her mind instead. Got right up in his Kool-Aid and told him to back the hell off. In front of his big brother and several other witnesses. He gave her a pretty wide berth after that.”

  “Really? Imagine him scared of her.” Gunnar laughed. The idea of cute-as-a-button, teeny Malin confronting Michael, who was a mountain of a man, intrigued him. He’d have loved to see her put the jerk in his place. Hell, just thinking about it was a bit of a turn-on. “She is a firecracker, isn’t she? I made her angry yesterday, and to be honest, she was damn sexy when she gave me the evil eye.”

  “She’s a nice lady. You should leave her alone. Your short attention span is getting notorious.”

  Taking affront to Walt’s assessment of Gunnar’s love life, he paused to consider. He loved the pursuit of a new woman, but his interest faded once he’d caught her. But that hadn’t happened as much recently with all the responsibilities of running a business. And, if he was completely honest, the ladies he ended up with were really only interested in getting him in bed or finding out about his trust fund. Lately, he’d been so put off by opportunistic women and busy with the gym, he hadn’t bothered to try to go out of his way to meet anyone. The last two women he’d been involved with had come on to him, inviting him out for an evening and then back to their place at the end of the night.

  Malin had been a friend, but lately, he’d started to think of her in a different way. He tipped his head to the side, the bones in his neck crackling. He pinned his gaze over Walt’s shoulders and mused out loud. “Aw, hell. She might be the one to finally hold my attention.”

  Chapter 6

  Sleep had been elusive for Mal. She’d tossed and turned all night long, flitting from worry to anger and back. Bone-deep weariness vied with trepidation for her attention today.

  Thankfully, brisk pre-Valentine’s Day business made it easy to forget her worries. She loved days where the bell above the door seemed to be in constant motion. This time of year was extremely busy for florists, and she was no exception. She’d taken so many orders for Valentine bouquets, she’d hired a friend from design school to help in the weeks before the big day.

  At the moment, she had her head down, examining her wholesale order spreadsheet to be sure she had enough inventory on hand for any last minute orders. In front of the potting display, Chloe chatted with a customer about commercial plant food versus compost.

  The bell trilled as another customer stepped into the shop. Mal ignored it, knowing Chloe would help the newcomer.

  Absently, she reached for the yogurt she’d left next to her laptop and accidentally knocked the open container on its side, splashing yogurt and strawberries over the surface of her screen.

  “Crap!” Shooting off her stool, she swiped her fingers over the worst of the spill, then cast a frantic glance over the counter for something to clean the sticky mess off her hand. Seeing nothing, she stuck her fingers into her mouth to suck away the goo.

  A wad of paper towels appeared under her nose. “I bet you could use these.” The deep, male voice elicited ripples of awareness.

  Heat flashed up her neck as she looked up at Noah Kerrigan. He stood across the counter from her, grinning as she licked strawberries and vanilla from her palm. Great, Mal. Real classy. She jerked her hand away from her mouth. “Hi,” she croaked. She accepted the towels from him.

  “Here, let me...” Noah smiled and spun the laptop around.

  Mal licked residual yogurt from between her fingers as Noah cleaned up her mess. He’d moved to town a while ago to become the new general manager of Laurel Glen, a luxury resort in Granite Pointe. He was the oldest brother of the Kerrigan clan and absolutely gorgeous. And at the
moment, his sky-blue eyes were locked on her tongue as she lapped the stickiness off her thumb. Self-consciously, she lowered her hand and groped for the paper towels she’d dropped on the counter.

  Noah cleared his throat and reached past the space between them to toss his soiled wad of towels into the trash. Leaning back, he tapped the edge of her computer. “I think I got the worst of it. It looked delicious. A shame it went to waste. At least you got some.”

  His tone implied he’d have licked her fingers clean if given the chance. She shoved her hand into her apron pocket to keep from fanning herself. Since she’d begun delivering flowers to the resort weekly, they’d indulged a harmless game of flirtation. Today, it appeared he’d jumped over the line between mild and oh, man! It wasn’t unwelcome.

  She picked up the container and inspected what remained. She offered it to him. “There’s a little left.”

  “Pass. But you go ahead. I’ll watch.” He winked.

  Her world tipped as a slow, sexy grin spread across his mouth, creasing the infamous and deadly Kerrigan dimples into his cheeks. She bit her lip against the suggestive comment lurking on her tongue.

  Buying herself time to regain her equilibrium, she turned and tossed the plastic cup into the trash. His look had devolved from oh-so-hot to mere amusement when she faced him again.

  “What brings you by this afternoon?” she asked. It might be nice if he confessed he’d come by just to see her.

  “We have a VIP coming in from Europe, and I wanted to order a special centerpiece for his suite. Maybe something exotic.”

  “Must be a very, very important VIP if you’re seeing to it personally. Doesn’t Jerry normally handle this kind of stuff?”

  Noah frowned when Mal mentioned his marketing manager. “Jerry’s work ethic has lagged lately.” He glanced at her, and the wattage in his smile heated up. “Besides, it was a great excuse to drop by to see you. When are you going to come work for me at the resort? I need a wedding planner on staff. And I’m selfish enough to want the best.”

  He concentrated on the back of her hand and trailed his index finger over her wrist. He lifted his gaze without raising his head and grinned.

  “Noah, you don’t want a wedding planner. You want someone who will let you flirt all day long.” And she’d happily volunteer for that job, but then their relationship would jump the imaginary line she’d drawn in the sand. Regretfully, she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms in front of her chest. His gaze followed the action.

  “Well, that too. But I really do need an event planner. Sure you don’t want to apply for the job?”

  She shook her head vehemently, flipping her hair side-to-side. “I like working for myself.”

  “I don’t know why. You put in some long hours running your own business.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “Said the pot to the kettle.”

  He laughed, the easy sound filling the area. Chloe and her customer approached the cash wrap to complete their transaction. Mal slipped from behind the counter and waved Noah over to her workbench. “What sort of flowers do you want?”

  “Something that smells as tropical and sweet as you. What is that, gardenia? Hyacinth?”

  He noticed how she smelled? He definitely had brought his flirting A-game today. “It’s Plumeria with sweet orange oil. It’s a soap we make here. We have some flowers in the display case if you want to use them.”

  “You make soap in a flower shop?”

  “We make a variety of products using floral components. I like to think of it as market expansion.”

  “Do you make scents for guys? Less flowery ones?”

  “Sure, we have a couple of more manly options available.”

  “What if I wanted something exclusive to Laurel Glen?”

  “Like a signature scent?”

  “Yeah. One for men, another for women.”

  Excitement grew. A line of luxury, personal-hygiene products had been one part of the business plan she’d developed when she had first bought The Secret Garden. But it had been part of the ten-year goal. She’d never envisioned the opportunity arising so early on. “We can certainly do that. Actually, that would be cool. How many rooms do you have? We’d have to talk about packaging and branding, but it’s an area I’d hoped to get into at some point in the future.”

  “We need to talk more, but for now, let’s worry about my guest’s arrangement.”

  She banked the thrilling buzz and strode to the wall of refrigerated units. She opened the case containing tropical flowers, then grabbed a container of pink flowers and another filled with orange Bird Of Paradise. She turned and bumped against Noah’s chest, splashing water on him and onto the floor.

  “Oomph! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s okay.” He brushed a hand down his camelhair overcoat, slicking drops of water off the front. He pressed his nose into one container and inhaled deeply. “Maybe I should order two bouquets, one for the VIP and one for my office. Something that reminds me of your scent would help me get through the rough days of the European’s visit.”

  “Noah, you have to stop saying things that melt my resistance to your charm.”

  His smooth laugh floated over her. “Now, why would I do that?”

  “Out of pity for me?” She grinned at him and set the flowers aside. She reached for a cylinder of foam and a roll of light green stem-wrap tape.

  “Maybe you should go out with me. We could discuss why I’d prefer not to take pity on you.”

  She looked up sharply at the hopeful tone of his voice. Noah was gorgeous, and a man she’d consider moving out of the friend zone. But Gunnar ticked all her boxes. He was a man she should keep at arm’s length, despite her growing attraction to him.

  She needed to quit thinking about Gunnar like that. They were just friends. Better that way.

  “Noah, are you asking me on a date?” she questioned.

  He leaned into her, putting his face within inches of hers. White flecks stood out in his eyes. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. “Yes, I am. What do you say? Dinner tonight?”

  “I can’t. I have a meeting late this afternoon, and I’m not sure how long it will last.”

  His smile dimmed. “You’re not just saying that to let me down easy, are you?”

  “I really have a meeting with an attorney.”

  “Attorney? I hope everything is okay.”

  Okay? Malin doubted anything would ever be okay again. “It’s just some estate business I need to take care of. Can I get a rain check on dinner?”

  The smile bloomed on his mouth again, like a flower seeking the sun. “Absolutely. Now, about the centerpiece. I think I will take two.”

  Imitating a tennis player after a particularly excellent shot, Mal made a fist and jerked her arm backward. Noah barked out a laugh, then settled onto the stool at the workstation to keep her company while she arranged the flowers.

  * * * *

  Nerves that had calmed while Noah was in the shop blossomed again as the clock ticked closer to half past four. Leaving Chloe to lock up, Malin left the shop and hurried home to change her clothes. Twilight had descended by the time she’d parked in the driveway and walked the path to her door. A verdigris-colored pendant lamp swayed gently in the early evening breeze, splashing shadows across the plank floor.

  She’d put her ceramic pots and cozy wicker furniture neatly away last fall, leaving it barren and cold. The lone concession to the passing seasons was the Valentine wreath she’d hung next to the front door. She’d made it herself, and it always made her smile when she walked into her house. Except today.

  She unlocked the door, wondering what Gaby would think of her new home. When Mal had bought the house two years ago, she’d spent months going from room to room refurbishing tired old wood, painting soothing, earthy colors, and adding the touches to transform the house into her home. Mal knew nothing about being a normal fifteen-year old. Her own teen years had been abysmal. Would Gaby care that
Mal had painstakingly chosen furniture to reflect the style of the home? Would the girl be comfortable living here? Would she even be aware of how warm and inviting it was?

  The latch clicked shut behind her, and the heels of her boots clattered against the wide hardwood floor as she hurried across the hall to the stairs. According to the Herman Miller clock on the wall, she had ten minutes until her guests arrived. Enough time to change into something other than the jeans she’d worn to work, but not nearly enough time to calm the hummingbirds darting about in her stomach.

  She washed her face and freshened her makeup before pulling a long black skirt from her closet. She tossed it and a black and cream striped sweater onto the bed, then rooted around for her favorite pair of high-heeled suede boots. Once she was dressed, she checked the result in the antique cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom. Satisfied she looked presentable, she hustled down the stairs to straighten the living room.

  Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell chimed, announcing her company, and the fluttering grew to the size of crow’s wings. Smoothing her hands down her sweater, she sucked in a fortifying breath and moved to the front of the house. The leaded-glass sidelight windows gave her a glimpse of her visitors. She focused her gaze on the thin girl standing on the other side.

  Gaby looked like their mom. Tall and slender. Gorgeous blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. The look on her new sister’s face was hard and angry, her posture defensive. Her hands were shoved deep in the pockets of a fire-engine-red fabric coat. Gaby’s shoulders hunched up around her ears. The girl was tense. The crows in Mal’s stomach morphed into pterodactyls. She twisted the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

  “Hello.” She forced the corners of her mouth into the semblance of a smile as she greeted them.