Awk-Weird (Ice Knights, #2)(24)
Christine threw her hands up in frustration and let out a long and bone-deep groan. “I told you that Mason and I wanted to do that in the first place, but you insisted.”
Ignoring her daughter, Valeria turned to Tess. “I want my money back.”
Tess’s gut twisted, dropped, and then dug down to the earth’s mantle. Her profit margin was slim as it was. She couldn’t afford that loss. “I’m sorry, but the deposit is nonrefundable.”
Valeria lifted one eyebrow. “Do you really think you’re any match for my attorneys?”
“You signed the agreement.” And that declaration would have been a lot more powerful if it hadn’t come out all shaky and nervous to match the panic zigging and zagging around inside her.
Personal confrontation with customers? Really not her thing.
“It doesn’t matter.” Valeria dismissed her concern with a shrug. “You’ll have to deal with the time and expense of answering them anyway. Can you really afford to?”
Tess didn’t need to do the mental calculation. She couldn’t. “I can give you half the deposit.”
“Wonderful,” Valeria said with an icy smile before walking out of the flower shop without even a single glance back at her daughter.
Wow. That was… Yeah, it was something—and now she was out a customer and half a deposit. Mentally adding “find more dollars” to her to-do list already bursting with the regular workday tasks plus interviewing a new delivery person, Tess let out a sigh as she gathered up the five sample bouquets. Each of the bunches would go to the domestic violence shelter a few blocks away to brighten the place up as part of her community give-back program. Other display flowers and floral samples went to the funeral homes for those whose families couldn’t afford any and a high school vocational program so budding horticulturalists could better study the flora.
“That really kinda screwed you over, didn’t it?” Christine asked as she followed Tess to the cool display case.
Tess nodded, her round curls bouncing more jauntily than she felt. “Yeah.” Really, what was the point of lying about it?
“I have another few years before I come into my trust, but I can afford at least equal the original deposit amount,” Christine said. “Could we find flowers that would fit into that budget?”
Suddenly Tess was a lot more in sync with her curls bobbing up and down. “Definitely.”
Christine smiled, ordered more like the burlap-tied bouquet for herself and her bridesmaids, said the rest of the flowers could be whatever would work with what was left in the budget, and paid the amount in full. Tess didn’t know what to say so she—for once—kept the factoid part of her flustered brain quiet and just said thanks.
A few hours and waaaaaaaaay too much peopling later, Tess flipped the open sign to closed. It was Paint and Sip night. She may not be able to enjoy the clearance-rack wine and God knew what Larry would have them painting tonight, but at least she’d be with her girls.
Then she’d go home to Cole. Well, not home to him. He was just there. And so was she. And they’d be alone. And nothing would happen between them and that would be really, really good—it would! No matter how tempted she was, she wouldn’t give in. That only happened at weddings.
…
Instead of sitting on his ass in his living room, Cole should be out on the ice. He should be skating until his lungs hurt and his thighs begged for mercy. It was that kind of day. Instead, he’d spent the whole day doing jack shit and now was staring at a book of hockey plays that made little to no use of his specific skill set.
He was fast.
He always knew the perfect spot on the ice.
He could practically become invisible to goalies.
But Peppers didn’t want that anymore. He wanted something new. Peppers couched it as “additional skills” and “leveling up,” but it all came down to more than minor adjustments and Cole fucking hated it.
He tossed the playbook down on the coffee table with more force than necessary and it slid off the side, landing with a soft thud, followed by a loud and pissed-off kitty yelp. The next thing Cole knew, Kahn was airborne, a length of white material stuck to one paw. He did some kind of midair spin move accompanied by a piss-poor hiss and then sprinted away at Mach speed, the white strip waving behind him like a flag.
“What the hell?” he grumbled as the kitten’s tail disappeared behind one of the oversize tan leather chairs and for one spine-chilling second, all he could picture was Evil Kitty sinking his pointy little claws into the pristine leather. “You better not be thinking of taking revenge. It was an accident.”
Sure, the cat was Satan’s best friend, but that didn’t mean Cole would throw that stupid playbook at him on purpose.
“Come on out from behind there.”
Kahn didn’t respond. What were you expecting, Phillips, a well-reasoned dialogue? No, because he knew better. Cats didn’t respond to your call. They left nasty fur balls and hair everywhere—not to mention the lingering smell of a litter box—in their wake like a fuck-you flag to the humans who housed them, even if only temporarily. And they shredded things, which had to be why Kahn had something stuck to his back paw.
“Fuck me,” he groaned.
Forget revenge, the kitten had taken a preemptive strike. The question was, what had the demon fur ball destroyed?