The Single Dad's Second Chance. Brenda Harlen
On the plus side, two weeks after Holly’s Valentine’s Day breakup, she wasn’t yet dating anyone new, so she and Rachel were hanging out more often. In fact, today Trish was coming in at lunch to manage the shop so they could head to Raleigh to catch an afternoon basketball game. But first they had to finish up the last of the centerpieces for Holly’s grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party the following day.
They were on the last one—Rachel cutting and Holly arranging—when Holly’s phone chimed to indicate a text message. She frowned at the screen.
“Problem?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know—it’s a cryptic bunch of letters and numbers from Gary.”
Gary was Holly’s brother, currently in England to finish up a Master’s Degree at the London School of Economics. “Letters and numbers?”
“‘BA5521 15:40 can u pick up?’” As she read the message out loud, Holly’s eyes widened. “Ohmygod. It’s flight information.”
“He’s coming home for your grandmother’s birthday party,” Rachel guessed.
Her friend’s eyes filled with tears as she typed a reply. “He didn’t come home for Christmas. I haven’t seen him since August.”
Rachel passed her a tissue. “You’ll see him this afternoon.”
“I’ll see him this afternoon.” Her lips curved in anticipation of the reunion, then her smile slipped. “Oh, Rachel, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
“But you already bought the tickets.”
“So I’ll find someone else to go with me—or I won’t. It’s not a big deal.”
“Are you sure? Because I could ask one of my cousins to—”
“I’m sure,” Rachel interjected. “Your brother coming home is a big deal—you need to be there.”
Holly nodded her thanks.
Rachel started transferring the finished centerpieces to the fridge while her friend swept the cuttings from the table. When the front door chimed, Rachel’s hands were full of flowers and Trish wasn’t in yet, so Holly went to the front of the shop to assist the customer. Thirty seconds later, she was back again and nudging her business partner toward the showroom.
Though Rachel was puzzled by her friend’s odd behavior, she didn’t ask any questions. It wouldn’t be the first time Holly had chosen to hide out in the back rather than face an ex-boyfriend who had ventured into the shop. With her polite smile in place, she moved out past the counter—and found herself face-to-face with Andrew Garrett.
“Mr. Garrett. Hi.”
He smiled, and her already wildly pounding heart kicked it up another notch.
“I thought we were on a first-name basis now,” he said to her.
Were they? She didn’t know what to think, why he was there. But she couldn’t deny that she was really glad to see him. “Andrew,” she amended. “How can I help you today?”
“What kind of flowers would you recommend to express a heartfelt and sincere apology?”
She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “How badly did you screw up?”
“You tell me.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s supposed to be my line,” he said. “And I am sorry.”
“Why?” she asked cautiously.
“Because I couldn’t decide whether or not I should call, and when I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to call, I realized I didn’t have your number. By then, a whole week had passed so I figured there was no point in tracking you down because you’d probably already written me off. And now it’s two weeks later, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you, so here I am anyway.”
“You’re here to see me?”
He nodded. “Obviously you’re working right now, but if you don’t object to giving me your number, maybe I can call you sometime and we could make plans to do something again?”
She took one of the business cards from the holder by the cash register and was scribbling her home number on it when Holly came through from the back with a spring assortment to set in the display case.
“I’m sorry for reneging on our plans this afternoon,” Holly said to Rachel. And then, as if she’d only now realized that Andrew was there, “Oh—I didn’t realize you were with a customer.”
Rachel rolled her eyes in response to the blatant fib. “Holly, this is Andrew Garrett. Andrew, my friend and business partner, Holly Kendrick.”
“I apologize for interrupting,” Holly said to him. “I just got a message that my brother’s coming into town so I have to pick him up from the airport, but I feel terrible about abandoning Rachel with two tickets to a Wolfpack game on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to the airport now?” Rachel suggested.
“You’re right,” Holly agreed. “It was nice meeting you, Andrew. See you tomorrow, Rachel.” Then she disappeared into the back again and—hopefully—out the back door.
“Was that your friend’s not-so-subtle way of letting me know that you don’t have any plans today?” Andrew asked when Holly had gone.
“Actually that was subtle, at least for Holly. And I do have plans.”
“The basketball game.”
She nodded.
“I like basketball,” he said. “If you wanted to sell the extra ticket to me, I’d go with you.”
“I’m not selling the ticket to you,” she told him. “But I will let you buy the popcorn.”
He smiled. “Sounds fair. What time’s the game?”
“Four o’clock.”
“I’ll pick you up at two-thirty.”
* * *
Andrew pressed the code to buzz Rachel’s apartment at precisely two-thirty. After he identified himself over the intercom, she told him “apartment 704” and released the lock.
He stepped into the lobby and took a moment to look around while he waited for the elevator. He’d never lived in an apartment and wasn’t sure he could do so without feeling claustrophobic, but he had to admit that this building had ambience. There were watercolors on the walls, fresh flowers strategically placed around the room and leather seating around a gas fireplace.
A quiet ding indicated the elevator’s arrival and, a minute later, he was at Rachel’s door. She responded promptly to his knock.
“I just need to grab my purse,” she said, and stepped back so that he could enter.
He didn’t glance around her apartment because his gaze was riveted on her. She’d changed from her work clothes into a pair of black jeans that molded to her narrow hips and a soft pink sweater that hugged her curves and somehow made her eyes seem even bluer. She’d brushed her hair out, so that it spilled over her shoulders in a silky cloud. On her feet she wore black boots with heels that looked more fashionable than practical.
He felt a distinctive tug low in his groin and couldn’t deny it was attraction. And his body’s instinctive response to Rachel Ellis worried him, because he sensed that there was something more going on here than basic chemistry. Lust was simple enough, but what he felt for Rachel wasn’t simple. There was something more mixed with the desire he felt, and he was concerned that he could—maybe already did—actually like her.
She picked up her purse off the console,