Maybe This Time(21)

“I needed to get some work done. I have a review packet due at midnight. Finals are coming up.”

“And the back of the flower van was the only choice?”

“The dark floor of a windowless van was the best I had to work with.”

“Couldn’t you just go home? Do you have to be here for some reason?”

Andrew sighed. “Yes, actually. I didn’t bring my own car. Plus, my father requires me at all events.”

“It’s like you’re trying to annoy me.”

“I really am just trying to get this done. The annoying you part is an added bonus.” He gave a small smile and pointed at his computer. “Give me five more minutes.”

I opened my mouth, not sure why I was ever surprised at his nerve.

“Please,” he added.

“You have until I’m done loading this van.”

He held out his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to his shoulder, revealing his toned bicep. “How well do you know the male body?”

“Excuse me?”

“For my anatomy review,” he said. “What did you think I meant?”

I shook my head. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He laughed. “Five minutes.”

I picked up the stem of a sunflower I’d left on the floor of the van earlier and flung it at him. “Hurry.” Then I went to finish cleaning up.



Caroline approached me. “Thanks for another great event, Sophie.”

“I’m glad you think it went well,” I said.

“So Janet asked you to do her bouquet,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Like a wake-up call, I realized I shouldn’t have committed to Janet without talking to Caroline first. It was her flower shop, after all, and she was offended. I could tell. “Only if you want me to,” I said, trying to salvage this. “You have much more experience than I do. I could really use some training on this, if you want me to do it at all.”

That was the right thing to say. She nodded slowly. “She probably thought someone younger might have more modern ideas. But I’m current.”

“You are.”

“I’ll walk you through a few sample bouquets in the next couple of weeks.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Caroline headed to her car and I stacked a few chairs. The rental company was there loading them into a trailer.

I picked up the three remaining tablecloths from the grass next to the food tables and turned around, nearly face planting into Jett Hart’s chest. I stopped just in time.

I opened my mouth to greet him when he said, “Did I see you hanging out with my son earlier?”

“No … Well, I mean yes … sir. Not by choice.”

“He has a job to do at these events and I’d like him to focus on that.” He waved his hand at me. “Without distractions.”

“You’ll need to talk to him about that.”

“Right now I’m talking to you, who could obviously use a lesson on professionalism.”

I could feel my face burn up, which immediately made my eyes water. I hated that when I was angry it looked like I wanted to cry. “I am very professional.”

“Just like your mother?”

My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut quickly.

“These events aren’t social hour,” he continued. “Understood?”

I feared if I spoke too much, my anger-stung eyes would fill with actual tears. “Understood perfectly.”

Jett turned to leave, and Lance, a chair tucked under each arm as he passed me, said, “He’s just a bucket of sunshine, isn’t he?”

“Pretty sure he’s a steaming pile of something else, but I won’t go there.”

Lance laughed and continued walking. I thought, not for the first time, that I should find a different job. One that was more than just a paycheck.





By the time I got back to the van, my jaw hurt from clenching it so tight. I threw open the doors, where now Micah was sitting with Andrew. He was pointing out some bone on her forearm.

“Did you honestly fall for the help me study for anatomy line, Micah?” I asked darkly.

“It wasn’t a pickup line,” Andrew said, and Micah gave me a look that said she wasn’t falling for anything.

“Whatever. It’s been five minutes,” I said to Andrew. “Get out.”

Micah tilted her head and studied my face. “What happened? You look like you’re going to kill someone.”

“It’s going to be him if he doesn’t leave,” I said, nodding toward Andrew.

Micah moved to her knees, took my hand, and pulled me into the van. Then she shut the doors and said, “Spill.”

The front windows let in some light so it wasn’t pitch-black. But it was dim enough that my eyes were now in shadows, I was sure. Still, that didn’t mean I wanted to talk. I just wanted to go home. Or better yet, to a big city somewhere, where I could sit on a bench downtown and nobody would know who I was for hours while I listened to life bustle around me.

“Don’t shut down,” Micah said, pulling me out of my head. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Oh”—I looked at Andrew—“except your dad is a huge jerk, but that’s not new.”