White Nights (White Nights 1)

He straightens when I near. “Miss Morrell?”

I look between him and the boxes. “Yes?”

He shoves a clipboard and a pen toward me. “Please sign here.”

“Wait.” I shake my head, frowning as I look at the name printed at the top of the form. It’s not a courier company I’m familiar with. “What for?”

“I don’t know, Miss. I’m just making the delivery.”

“From whom?” I ask, even if I already know.

He taps a finger on a white envelope that lies on top of the clipboard. “From him. Can you please sign? I have another delivery to make.”

I hold up a finger. “Just hold on a minute. Did you deliver the flowers?”

“Yes.” He motions at a delivery van parked outside. “Took me three trips to the store to get everything here.” He checks his wristwatch. “Are you signing or not?”

I shouldn’t. I should let him take the boxes back with him, but I’m too baffled by the flowers that June claims decorate every room. What is Alex up to? Why send flowers to every patient in the hospital?

“Did you tell everyone the flowers are from my boyfriend?”

He gives me an exasperated look. “They asked. What did you want me to say?”

“Is that what the man who ordered the delivery told you?”

Sighing, he rolls his eyes. “A guy orders a few grand’s worth of flowers? Yeah. If that’s not a boyfriend, then I don’t know what is.”

Not Alex. He’s the one man in this city—in the world—who isn’t boyfriend material.

“Look, are you signing?” he asks. “If not, I’m supposed to leave this anyway.” He waves at the boxes. “If you don’t sign, my boss won’t know I made the delivery. I’m just covering my own ass here.”

A glance at the clock on the wall confirms I only have a few minutes before I’m on duty, and I still have to change into my scrubs. Like the delivery man, I’m running against the clock. However, it’s not the clock but his next words that finally make the decision for me.

“If I don’t have proof of the delivery, Miss, I’ll be in trouble with my boss.”

Taking the pen, I sign my name on the form. The man grabs his clipboard and makes his way to the exit without another word, leaving me standing there with the two boxes and the envelope.

As always, it’s busy in the reception area with patients filling out admission forms and making payments. I’m obstructing the flow of the queue. Stacking the small box on top of the big one, I go to the locker room.

Nancy, the first-year nurse, passes me in the hallway. “Hey, Kate.” She turns, skipping backward as she says, “Is it true that your boyfriend sent flowers to everyone in Recovery?”

I barely hide my irritation as I say from over my shoulder, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

She grins. “In that case, can I have him?”

At my eyeroll, she gives a merry laugh before continuing on her way.

I nudge the door open with a shoulder and drop the boxes on the bench next to my locker. I’ve signed for the goods. I may as well check what’s inside.

Starting with the big box, I lift the lid. An arrangement of arum lilies tied with a white ribbon rests on a bed of tissue paper. The flowers are stately and elegant, something that would fit in Alex’s house. The smaller box contains a gourmet panini, a tub of natural yogurt, fresh berries, and a small pot of honey. Lunch, I assume.

I leave the card for last on purpose, wanting to delay whatever message it contains for as long as possible. Not being able to put it off any longer, I tear open the envelope and take out a red card with a pink heart in the middle. My hands shake a little as I open it. The inside is blank except for the strong handwriting scribbled in black ink on the white stock of the card.

Maybe roses aren’t your style. I’m learning by trial and error.

The message is signed with a simple A.

Blowing out a breath, I close the card and shove it into my locker with the boxes. I make quick work of changing, winning me another couple of minutes before I have to go on duty. A few nurses come in as I swipe across the screen of my phone, accessing my recent calls list. I hit dial and press the phone to my ear with a shoulder while I wash my hands at the basin.

Alex’s smooth voice comes on the line, the deep timbre sending a shiver down my spine. “Katyusha, what a pleasant surprise.”

A pleasant surprise? His feigned ignorance angers me. He knew very well what he was doing when he sent all those gifts. He knew I’d have no choice but to call him.

“Hello?” he says. “Are you there?”