The Billionaire's Matchmaker(44)

Well, even idiots had pride. Gid scraped up what he could find of his while Mia retrieved the order pad and a pen from the front counter.

“So, roses,” she said, making a note.

“Two dozen.”

“White.” They said it at the same time.

She glanced up. “They’re your mom’s favorite.”

“Right. Have the card read—”

“With love from your favorite son.” One side of Mia’s mouth lifted.

It was a standing joke. It was how Gid, who had three older brothers, always signed cards to his mother.

When he frowned, Mia sobered. “Or did you want it to say something else?”

“No. That will do.”

He paid with cash, offered Charlie one last ear scratch, and started for the door. Two steps from it he stopped, turned.

“Did you forget something?” she asked.

Leave it be, he commanded silently. Just let it go. But the question that was torturing him tumbled out anyway. “I’m just wondering how it is you can know me so well, Mia, and still not trust me.”

“I…I…” She swallowed, glanced away.

“Exactly. You can’t say you trust me any more than you could tell me you love me.”

With a shake of his head, he stormed out of the shop, irritated with both of them.





Chapter Three



“You’re quiet tonight,” Jenny noted later that week as she and Mia had drinks at Pablo’s Pub. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” Mia reached for her wine. Before taking a sip, she said, “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

“Come on. We’re better friends than that,” Jenny remarked. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

The reminder of her friendship with Jenny stirred anew the emotions Gid had kicked up during their confrontation at the flower shop.

“I trust you,” she said sharply.

Jenny blinked before her eyes rounded. “I…I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No, no.” Mia shook her head and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. I guess I’m a little…touchy.”


“Gideon?”

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you, and because Gid is the only person who makes you question yourself and your decisions.”

Mia sighed, took another sip of her wine. “He came into the flower shop a few days ago.”

Jenny’s smile was soft. “He came to see you.”

“He didn’t come to see me. It was business. He ordered flowers for his mother. Her birthday is coming up.”

“And he couldn’t have done that over the phone?” A point Mia herself had made. “Or had his receptionist do it? Or have used another florist? Please.” Jenny snorted. “He came to see you, Mia. And the reason he came to see you is because he still loves you.”

As always, hearing the L-word had panic bubbling up her throat.

She swallowed hard. “Well, nothing has changed, so it was a wasted trip on his part.”

“Did you tell him that?” Jenny looked sad.

“Not in so many words, but he knew.” Mia plucked at one corner of the napkin under her wineglass as she tortured herself for the millionth time with Gid’s parting shot. “He said I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t.”

She glanced up sharply. “And it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He’s leaving me.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the telling remark. “He’s leaving Chandler’s Cove.”

“Mia, he’s leaving because you turned down his proposal of marriage. Gid would have passed on the job opportunity out west to stay in Chandler’s Cove with you. He knows this is your home and where you want to stay.”

“They offered him his dream job, Jenny.”

“Yes, and what does it tell you about his feelings for you that he was willing to pass on it to start a life here with you?”

“So he said.”

Jenny’s gaze turned pointed as she replied dryly, “And you wonder why he claims you don’t trust him?”

On her way home later that evening, Mia mulled Jenny’s words. Her friend had a point, and it wasn’t the first time she’d made it. In fact, Jenny, Gabby, and Marney had made similar points several times since Mia and Gid’s breakup. They’d even gone so far as to stage an intervention of sorts right after the holidays hoping to get Mia to re-examine her motives for scuttling a good relationship with a good man.

“You can’t let the past dictate your future,” Gabby had told her that day five months ago as the women walked to their cars in the parking lot of their favorite coffee shop, The Cuppa Café.

That was easy advice to dole out, but very difficult to follow when one had a past like Mia’s.

“Charlie!” she called as she let herself into her house. She needn’t have bothered. He was in the foyer, tongue lolling out. He didn’t jump up and down and start barking excitedly the way he usually did, though. Rather, he rose on his hind legs, rested his front paws against her thigh, and licked her hand. His welcome, though subdued, was balm for her soul nonetheless.

“Hey, boy.” She rubbed his head.