Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
On a whim, I decided to go in.
“Hi. I had some flowers delivered yesterday. I think they were from this florist, but the card was missing, so I’m not sure who they’re from.”
The woman behind the counter frowned. “Oh no. I’m so sorry about that. Let me see what we have on file.”
I smiled. “That would be great.”
“Could I just see some ID, please?”
“Sure.” I dug my license out of my purse and handed it to the woman.
She smiled. “Sophia Sterling. I remember the gentleman who came in and ordered these. He was quite the looker, if you don’t mind me saying so, and was very particular in what he picked out. I should have the card in our system. We make our customers type their note into our iPad so we can print it out nicely and don’t make any mistakes.”
“Thank you. That would be great.”
The woman typed into her computer and then walked to a printer and picked up a small, typed-up floral card. Handing it to me, she smiled. “Here you go. Sorry about that again.”
I looked down and read it.
The lips on your face taste almost as good as the ones between your legs. Apologies for the abrupt departure. Let me make it up to you.
Dinner in my room at 7.
I wasn’t sure if the florist had read it or not, but I felt my cheeks flush anyway.
“Uh, thank you. Have a good day.” I rushed toward the door, but on my way out, the refrigerator full of colorful flowers caught my eye. I turned back. “What kind of flowers were those that you sent me? I’d never seen them before.”
The florist smiled. “They’re blackberry ripple dahlias. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I pretended I knew what they looked like. “Yes, they are.”
“You know, being a florist is sort of like being a priest. We get people coming in seeking forgiveness for their sins, and others sending flowers to women who aren’t their wives. You’d be amazed how many people tell us intimate stories while they’re picking out an arrangement. We make a habit of keeping our customers’ confidence. But I don’t think there’s any harm in telling you that when the gentleman who sent you those flowers walked in, he went right for those dahlias. I asked him if they were your favorite, and he said he wasn’t sure, but they were beautiful and unique, a lot like the woman he was sending them to.”
My heart did a little flutter. Only Weston Lockwood could make my emotions bounce around like a ping-pong ball. The other night had been amazing—beautiful and heartwarming and so physically satisfying. But the morning after, he’d seemed to shut down. Though, we’d talked a lot about Caroline, which wasn’t easy for him. So after he left, I’d tried to chalk up what felt like a retreat to just a somber mood.
Then the flower delivery from Liam came, and the flower delivery from Weston hadn’t come. And then there was Mr. Thorne. Who was he? In just the few minutes I’d spent with them, I could see there was an interesting dynamic there.
I smiled at the florist, feeling more confused than when I’d walked in. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
Outside on the street, I started to compose a text to Weston about the flowers, but decided I wanted to see his face when I asked him about the two deliveries. So instead, I sent a short, vague text:
Sophia: Need to discuss a delivery issue. Are you free?
By the time I’d picked up my salad and walked back to the hotel, my phone pinged with the response.
Weston: I’m in Florida. Is it something we can do over the phone?
What?
Sophia: When did you go to Florida?
Weston: This morning.
I don’t know why, but I felt a little hurt that he hadn’t mentioned the trip to me. But maybe it was an emergency and something was wrong. I knew his grandfather lived down there, on the opposite coast of my grandfather.
Sophia: Is everything okay?
Weston: Yes, fine.
I mulled over asking why he hadn’t mentioned leaving. At a minimum, we were running a hotel together. So even if there wasn’t anything personal going on between us, a heads-up would’ve been nice. But I didn’t want to get into it over text. Instead, I opted to wait and have the discussion in person, along with the talk about the flowers.
Sophia: It can wait. Give me a call when you’re back.
***
Two days later, I hadn’t heard another word from Weston. His office door was still closed, and he hadn’t called to let me know he was back like I’d asked him to. Scarlett had flown back to London this morning, and I’d spent the majority of the afternoon in with the legal and accounting team, trying to finalize the list of assets that still needed valuation. Our bid to buy out the minority share from the charity was due in less than three weeks.