Only Yours (Fool's Gold #5)(71)

Max crouched down and petted as many as he could reach. “You have a delivery.”

“A package? I didn’t order anything.”

“It’s not a package, it’s flowers. Based on the size of them, he must have really screwed up.”

Flowers? She felt herself getting all gooey inside, which was dumb. Yes, the flowers were probably from Simon. He was the only man in her life. But as she had recently learned, theirs was a one-way relationship. While sending flowers was a lovely gesture, it didn’t change reality.

She scrambled to her feet. “What are you talking about? What does size have to do with it?”

Her boss laughed. “Honey, if we’re talking about a guy, size always matters. The bigger the screw up, the bigger the arrangement. Based on the size of these, I would guess he seriously injured a family member.”

“Of course he didn’t,” she said, even as she went through the gate and carefully closed it behind her. She hurried toward the house, which also doubled as Max’s office.

She let herself in the back door. The flowers were in the kitchen. The display was as big as Max had indicated. The vase was at least eighteen inches high with a spray of exotic blossoms reaching toward the ceiling.

She recognized a couple of different kinds of orchids, but after that got completely lost. Her mother would probably know what everything was. The flowers were bright and fresh, with a delicate fragrance that drew her closer. When she spotted the card, she reached for it.

She hesitated before opening the envelope, telling herself there was nothing he could say that would change anything. But she opened it anyway and read the note.

“I’m not very good at this. I’m sorry.”

She frowned at the card, not sure what he meant. He was sorry he wasn’t very good at whatever he was talking about. Or maybe he was saying, “I’m not very good at this and I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

“I would have thought the flowers would’ve made you happy,” Max said.

She held out the card. “You’re a guy, tell me what this means.”

“I don’t have my reading glasses. Tell me what it says and I’ll tell you what it means.”

She read the short message. “And?”

“I haven’t a clue. What did you two fight about?”

“We didn’t fight. It wasn’t like that. I just…” She sighed. “I know he’s leaving. I know this is temporary. I made the mistake of thinking that while he was here, we had an actual relationship. He doesn’t think that.”

“How do you know?”

She told him about the fundraiser and how it had been apparent that Simon had no intention of asking her to accompany him.

“Events like that are exactly what couples go to together. It’s a date thing. If he cared about me at all, he would’ve asked me. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a lot of things, Montana, but idiot isn’t one of them. From what you’ve told me about this guy, I’d say he has it bad. If he didn’t care about you, why would he apologize? Maybe not asking you to the fundraiser is about him.”

Which was sort of what Nevada had said, she thought, getting irritated at the people around her.

“Why are you taking his side?”

Max walked over to her and put his arm around her, then he kissed the top of her head. “We have officially exceeded my ability to give advice on your love life. I’m not taking his side. I’m suggesting that before you assume he’s a jerk, find out why he didn’t ask you.”

Her boss walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with a huge arrangement of flowers and a small, cryptic card. Neither of which offered any answers.

MONTANA WAS FORCED to put the vase of flowers on the floor of her backseat. Even then the very tips of the stems brushed against the ceiling. The flowers dominated her tiny dining alcove as the scent drifted through her small house.

She couldn’t seem to eat much at dinner and spent a restless hour trying to rearrange her closet. A foolish attempt when her mind was elsewhere, wrestling with the problem of Simon.

At seven-thirty, she heard a knock on the door.

She didn’t have to answer it to know who was there. As she approached the door, she still wasn’t sure what she was going to say or how she was going to act.

Simon stood on her porch, dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired. No, that wasn’t right, he looked weary. She found herself wanting to pull him inside and hold him, as if she could somehow pass her strength on to him and heal him.

“I hate events like this,” he began. “They all do it, hold a fundraiser, and I’m the guest of honor. Everyone wants to talk to me. But I’m not the kind of guy who has funny stories appropriate for a cocktail party, and it’s not the kind of place where it’s appropriate for me to discuss the details of my work. I didn’t ask you, because I hate going, not because I wanted to hurt you.”

She stepped back to let him in. He moved past her into the living room, then turned to face her.

“I don’t do this,” he continued. “I don’t get involved. But I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. It started out as chemistry, pure sexual attraction. I don’t even know what to call it. But it’s different now. It’s bigger and I can’t control it and I can’t not be with you.”