Awk-Weird (Ice Knights, #2)(29)

“I’ll wear a hat, pull my hair back.” Why was he fighting to do this? He had plays to learn and a pineapple upside-down cake to bake. “No one will realize it’s me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her gaze dropping down to Kahn, who’d jumped into her open suitcase and curled up into a fluff ball. “I’m sure you have better things to do on an off day.”

“I suck at off days.” Not an overstatement.

She gave him an assessing look, tilting her head to one side and twirling one golden curl around a finger. “Too much unscheduled free time?”

“Pretty much.”

Everything from her cocked-out hip to the disbelieving expression on her face screamed out that he was full of it. “You’re saying you’re just dying for me to boss you around all day for minimum wage?”

“You don’t have to pay me.” The Ice Knights did that already. Money was not an issue.

“Really?” she asked, the single word all but calling him a liar. “What if part of the job is wearing a Bigfoot costume?”

He shrugged. “As long as I don’t have to wrestle a dinosaur, I’m in.”

She gave him an assessing look, then let out a long sigh. “We’ve got to be out the door in fifteen.”

The half second of elation at having won—competitive, him? Always—fizzled out as soon as her timeline penetrated his brain.

“But that means I can’t shave. I always shave.” It was part of his routine.

There went that eyebrow of hers again.

“Fine,” he grumbled, heading toward the door. He wasn’t Christensen with his extensive hair prep, but fifteen minutes was still cutting it close. “I will skip shaving. I’ll grab breakfast on our way out the door. What about you? Can I grab you something?”

“Nah, I’ll just have crackers and seltzer water, but don’t worry, I’ll be good to have some real food at lunch.” Her cheeks developed a sudden pink tinge. “And your breakfast isn’t in the pantry, is it?”

“All my prepped stuff is in the fridge,” he said, pausing halfway into the hall, his Spidey senses activated. “Why?”

She seemed to get really interested in Kahn lying in her suitcase, keeping her attention focused on the fur ball and not Cole.

“No reason,” she said without looking up.

Yeah, that didn’t sound right, but he now had fourteen minutes, and that didn’t give him time to unwind whatever was going on—and there most definitely was something. Good thing they had all day at the shop together for him to figure it out. And lucky for him, that would give him something to think about beyond the fact that underneath her jeans, she was wearing lacy purple panties with pink polka dots.

…

Tess was triple-checking the morning flower deliveries manifest at the shop and doing her best not to notice the way Cole’s perfect butt looked in those jeans because no good would come from eye fucking his ass at work. Or at home. Or when she was alone in the shower. She noticed anyway because oh my God how could she not?

She hadn’t stopped noticing until he’d walked out the door, his signature almost-to-his-shoulders-length hair tucked under a grungy baseball hat, for the first round of morning deliveries. About fifteen minutes later, the texting started.

Cole: I should have made a bet about not being recognized.

Tess: Who did you deliver to?

Cole: Some law office. Secretary did the happy cry thing when she read the card.

Tess: People love getting flowers.

While the peopling parts of her days were always the most exhausting, it really was amazing to get to see people’s reactions when they realized the flowers were for them. There were usually smiles, sometimes weepy tears, occasionally angry refusal (but that was pretty rare). Flowers meant something to people—love, friendship, a human connection. That couldn’t be beat.

Cole: So you still stand by your position?

Tess: That you’ll get recognized? Without a doubt.

Cole: Bet on it?

Tess: I don’t want you to take a sucker bet.

She knew his delivery route and who he was about to meet.

Cole: Too chicken to agree?

Tess: Does that actually work on anyone?

Cole: All the time.

Okay, if that’s the way he wanted to play it.

Tess: Fine.

Cole: Stakes?

Tess: Loser buys dinner.

Cole: You’re on.

About twenty minutes later, after she’d just sold a dozen red roses (yawn) to a husband who obviously had fucked up something with his wife, the next text came in.

Cole: So what am I buying for dinner?

Tess: You went to the hospital.

Cole: How did you know?

Tess: Chipsy is a massive Ice Knights fan. He knows things about you that you probably don’t even know about yourself.

Chip Aronson—known as Chipsy to everyone—not only was an Ice Knights fan, he was a walking billboard for the team with an Ice Knights shirt, sweater, tie, lapel pin, or socks for every day of the year. The man wasn’t a fan, he was an eighty-year-old fanatic.

Cole: I barely got to the information desk before he had his camera ready.

Tess: Like I said, sucker bet.

After that, the texts came in sporadically, but her social media notifications went nuts. Her Forever in Bloom Insta account was pretty much dedicated to weird facts about all things plant-based and only had a handful of followers. She posted pics of a new tulip arrangement with a snippet about how in Holland, tulips used to be more valuable than gold or did an artsy shot of the steamed broccoli she’d made for dinner and included a tidbit about how the vegetable is actually a flower.