Why Not Tonight (Happily Inc. #3)(42)

“She already has the vases.” Pallas hesitated. “We’re talking fifteen tables and maybe three vases at each table, so a total of forty-five bouquets. And you’d only have about five weeks.”

“I’d need to see the vases to figure out if it’s possible, and if it is, I’d like to work up a bid,” Natalie said. “The size of the vase will determine the size of the flowers and how many each vase will need.”

“I’ll drop off a couple later today.”

“Then I’ll let you know if I can do it and how much it will be by first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I hope it works out. I know my bride would love your work.”

And Natalie would love the chance to try something new. Um, something artistic. Edgar would be new and she definitely didn’t want to try him!





CHAPTER TEN

RONAN FINISHED PUTTING away his equipment. It was nearly six and Natalie was still at her small workstation, surrounded by open boxes. He picked up his backpack and walked over.

“You’re working late.”

She glanced up as he spoke. Her glasses had slipped down her nose and it took a second for her eyes to focus. She looked rumpled, harried and sexier than should be legal.

“What? Is it late?” She glanced at the big clock on the wall. “Six? How did that happen? Last time I checked, it was barely three.”

He smiled before bending down to kiss her. “Occupational hazard, gorgeous. Want to get some dinner?”

Her full lips turned up. “Did you just call me gorgeous?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so nice. I’m starving, so dinner would be...” She drew in a breath, then squared her shoulders. “Thank you, but no. Rain check, please.”

“Sure, but why not tonight?”

“I have to work.” Her expression turned impish. “I got the job. I have to make eight flowers for each of the vases the bride sent. That’s forty-five vases times eight flowers.” Her brows drew together. “That’s, ah...”

“Three hundred and sixty flowers.”

“Ack! How did you do that in your head? And so fast.”

“It’s a penis thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “It has nothing to do with your penis. You have a mind for math. Girls can do math just as well as boys and they’re more highly verbal in their early years. Don’t you start with me and math, bucko.”

He chuckled and held up both hands. “I’m sorry. I was joking. Women are as capable as men at math and science and computer programming. I believe that down to my soul. I won’t mess with you on that topic again. I promise.”

So Natalie was a bit of a feminist. Good for her. He liked her sass and her attitude. She was tough and stood up to him. Back when he still believed he was pretty much like everyone else, he’d wanted to have a wife and kids. If he was still that guy, Natalie would be tough to resist. He could imagine having kids with her. No, not kids. Daughters. He would want them to be exactly like their mom.

“You called me bucko,” he added.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He sat on the corner of her desk and picked up a mason jar. It had a black heart painted on it. The one next to it had a bat.

“So this wedding is based on a comic book character?” he asked.

“No, a movie. Batman & Robin. It was out in the nineties. I haven’t seen it.”

“I’ll download it for us, if you’d like.”

“I would. Tomorrow for sure.” She picked up the bat mason jar. “I’m going to have to put together a schedule to get everything done on time. I don’t want to be rushing at the end. So many flowers a day or maybe a week.”

“What’s the appeal with the project? I thought you enjoyed creating your mixed-media pieces. Are you going in another direction?”

She studied him for a second before standing and kissing him. “You’re sweet and so naive.” She touched a finished flower. “I’m getting paid to do this.”

“You have a job at the gallery.”

“I have a part-time job at the gallery. That’s my choice and Atsuko always lets me figure out my hours. There’s one week a month where I have to be in the office more because we’re paying the artists and doing bills and inventory. The rest of the time, I work maybe twenty hours a week. That almost keeps me in mac and cheese.”

He didn’t like the thought of her struggling to get by, but sensed he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“You use the rest of your time for your art,” he offered instead.

“Yes.” She lightly kissed him again, her gentle touch arousing him a lot more than he would guess she suspected.

“I don’t mind struggling for my art, so to speak,” she continued. “I have it better than most. I’m selling fairly steadily at the gallery. My prices are going up, so yay. These flowers will go in my portfolio and they’ll pay my rent for the next two months. That makes me happy.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Unexplained feelings battled inside of him. He supposed if he had to pick just one, it would be shame.

He’d never once had to struggle. Not financially. He was a Mitchell—son of the great Ceallach. Doors had been opened to him before he’d been born. There was an assumption that what he created was brilliant. All he had to do was not screw up too badly.