A Valentine's Wish. Betsy St. Amant
he was in high school himself? The girl was persistent—no wonder Jeremy looked frustrated all the time. Going against his girlfriend had to be tougher than any opposing school’s quarterback.
“Will this tell me?” Haley dangled a small white card in front of his face.
The delivery card with Lori’s name on it.
The blood rushed to Andy’s head, and his temples pounded harder. When had she—He sucked in his breath. The little minx, when she’d been playing with the arrangement! He’d dodged a zillion buckets-over-the-door and glue-on-the-toilet-seat pranks, but this one he never saw coming.
“Haley, give me that card.” He held out his hand, but she pranced out of his reach and lifted the flap.
“For Lori?” She squealed, then clamped one hand over her mouth. “That’s so perfect. Why didn’t I think of it? And just in time for Valentine’s Day!”
His anger at her disobedience fled. “Perfect? You think so?” He quickly shook his head. Now he was encouraged at the approval of a high-schooler? Still, no one knew him and Lori better than the youth group.
“You guys would be great together.” Haley handed over the delivery card. “And I won’t tell. I promise. I want to help.”
“How in the world could you possibly…” Andy stopped as an idea formed. He looped one arm around Haley’s shoulders and leaned down. “Ever had experience as a delivery girl?”
Chapter Four
Lori stared at the flowers sitting on the counter. Where’d they come from? She’d gone into the kitchen to ask Monny about sugar-free chocolates, and when she came back, the flowers had appeared in all their fuchsia and burgundy glory. The store was deserted, as it was almost closing time, so it couldn’t have been a customer. Maybe Bella had ordered them for the display before she left for Shreveport.
“Summer? You know anything about these?” Doubtful. The twenty-year-old, multipierced college student usually had her nose buried in a magazine during the store’s late-afternoon lull. Or was jamming with her iPod.
Summer straightened from her slump against the counter and shrugged a thin shoulder. The fluorescent lights above glinted off her eyebrow ring. “Beats me. I must have been in the stockroom. Though I’m surprised I didn’t smell those things coming a mile away.”
Lori inhaled the spicy aroma of the lilies as she searched for a card among the pristine leaves. Smell? That was too harsh a word for this fragrance. The flowers were so pretty they almost seemed fake. She plucked the card from the greenery and blinked twice. Her name, scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting.
“What is that strong smell…?” Monny stepped through the kitchen and stopped short as Lori held up the bouquet.
“Someone sent me flowers.”
“I see that.” He coughed and backed away. “Very nice.”
“Stargazers, my favorites. But I don’t know why someone would have sent them. It’s not my birthday.”
“Anniversary?”
Lori frowned. “Anniversary of what?”
“Don’t tell me Americans don’t celebrate amore.” Monny patted his apron over his heart and grinned, his teeth appearing extra white in contrast to his olive skin.
Summer snorted and turned back to her magazine, shaking her head.
“Of course we celebrate love.” Lori paused. “But I’m not dating anyone.”
Monny’s smile seemed to brighten, and Lori quickly averted her eyes back to the flowers. Was the surprise gift from him? They barely knew each other. But why else would he be interested in her dating status?
A dried petal fell to the counter, and for the first time, Lori noticed another card lying under the vase, a full-sized envelope like one would buy at Hallmark. She tugged it free and slit the light blue flap with her fingernail, noting from the corner of her eye that Monny slipped back inside the kitchen. To hide his knowing smile when she read his card, or just to check the brownies?
She was silly to think he’d be interested in her. No, she only attracted men with fast words and lying lips, men who broke promises and cheated on their fiancées.
Lori pulled her lower lip between her teeth and read the card, the bitterness of the past tainting the cute message. No signature, other than the words YOUR SECRET ADMIRER written in big block letters, an obvious attempt to hide the owner’s handwriting.
Would Monny send a corny note like this one? Everything else he had said or done during their days working together had been smooth. Sauve. Sophisticated, like his accent. But who was to say he didn’t have a silly side lurking beneath that savvy exterior? She really didn’t know him at all.
Couldn’t truly know any man at all.
She slid the card back into the envelope, then thought twice. She pulled it back out and, after making sure Summer wasn’t watching, stood it open beside the cash register. Might be silly, but if Andy—the man she wanted to notice her—never would, at least she could appreciate romantic efforts from a coworker. Even if she had no intention of following through with them.
Lori set the vase in a prime spot on the counter, then grabbed a dust cloth and began to wipe down the display case. Monny started humming a tune from the kitchen, and the melodic sound blossomed a sprig of hope beneath her doubt. If Monny could be interested in her, who was to say Andy might not come around one day? She absently joined in the song under her breath, swaying slowly as she cleaned.
Andy stood outside the Chocolate Gator and hesitantly peered through the window. Lori stood at the counter, head ducked as she counted bills at the register. Strands of her long brown hair, pulled halfway back, skimmed her cheeks as she rhythmically placed bills into stacks. Her lips moved slightly as she counted to herself.
Andy drew a deep breath. He’d been unable to sleep well last night, wondering if he’d done the right thing by sending Haley as a delivery girl. What if she told his secret? What if she wasn’t subtle enough? What if Lori saw her and put two and two together? He wasn’t ready for Lori to know his thoughts, his plan—and he definitely wasn’t ready for her to hear what Pastor Mike had suggested about his love life.
Maybe it was too late. Maybe Haley hadn’t been able to take the flowers yesterday afternoon at all. Or maybe they’d already died. Maybe he’d killed them with his secrets and his schemes and…
No, if the stargazer lilies were already dead, it was no doubt they’d collapsed from their own aroma.
Andy shoved his hands in his pockets, then realized he needed them to open the door—unless he stayed outside, which seemed like a good option at this point. Lori knew nothing, and he hadn’t invested anything in this wacky plan except for the forty-three dollars and twenty-seven cents he’d spent on the flowers. Forty-seven dollars, if he counted the card. He could check on Lori for his aunt another time and just go home, forget about it all.
And then what—forget about ever finding a wife? Forget about his job? Forget about the way Lori’s smile wreaked havoc in his stomach and her playful punches stung his arm like a thousand arrows from Cupid’s bow?
Not likely.
Andy stole a peek through the window again, and his heartbeat spiked. The vase of flowers was on the counter opposite where Lori stood, part of a display with wrapped chocolate bars. That had to mean she liked them, right?
Lori stuffed the money inside a deposit bag and shut the register drawer. His stomach clenched. If he didn’t go inside now, she’d leave out the back and he’d never know what she really thought of the flowers. Not to mention the youth group wouldn’t have any dessert after their service tonight.
He ran his palm over his hair, winced at its clamminess and knocked on the door before he could change his mind. Lori looked up from the display with