“Not when you’re on a date with somebody else,” insisted Avery. “I tried my best to cover, but I’m sure Ross thought I was the rudest thing ever. I finally just suggested that we go somewhere else, just to get away from him.”
“And did that actually make the date with Ross the architect go better?”
Avery grimaced. “No. I might could’ve gotten past the multi-generation Bulldog legacy if we had a lick of chemistry or mutual interests, but bless his heart, once we blew past all the mutual pop culture references, we had absolutely nothing in common. He didn’t even try to kiss me. I doubt I’ll be hearing from him again.” And that was a relief. This way she didn’t have to find a way to turn him down gently.
“Probably just as well,” said Brooke. “Lack of creeper vibe aside, I still don’t trust a guy who wouldn’t put his profile picture up. At least the day wasn’t a total loss. It sounds like your fake date went better. You must’ve had something in common to chat for almost an hour without things getting weird.”
We had tons in common, thought Avery with no little bite of regret. “Like that matters. I don’t know his name or where he’s a student or even what the heck he was doing here.” And if she?
?d wondered for half a minute whether the yearbook photos from Rango, Texas were somewhere online, she’d quickly put the thought out of her mind. She was not going to embarrass herself further by trying to track him down.
Avery and Brooke stepped into the reception area of the mayor’s office to find a courier juggling a vase full of flowers.
“Can I help you?” asked Avery.
“Oh good. I’m not supposed to leave these without a signature,” he said. Setting the flowers on her desk, the courier offered her a clipboard. “Just sign at the bottom.”
Avery scribbled her signature. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. We tend to get kind of scarce around lunch.”
“Enjoy,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.
The mix of cream tulips and bright Gerbera daisies was unusual and happy. “Cam must’ve sent his mom flowers,” said Avery. “He’s such a sweetheart. Always doing stuff like that.”
Insatiably curious, Brooke peered at the name on the card envelope. “These aren’t for Mayor Crawford. They’re for you.”
“What? Who’d be sending me flowers?” She crossed over to pluck the card from the holder and eased it out.
Let me make it up to you. Tosca. Tuesday at 7 PM.
Avery’s mouth dropped open.
Brooke looked over her shoulder. “It isn’t signed.”
Avery flipped the card over to verify, but no, it wasn’t signed. The florist was out of Oxford.
“You’ve got a secret admirer,” Brooke sang. “Kind of a strange combination of flowers.”
“Cream tulips are for apology,” murmured Avery.
The flowers had to be from her fake date. She’d never told Ross where she worked and he’d never seen the Gerbera daisy she’d brought. She’d forgotten it at Mr. Fake Date’s table. A flutter of excitement trembled in her chest.
“They’re from him aren’t they?”
She didn’t have to ask which him Brooke meant. “I think they must be.”
“And he’s asking you out! Properly. With style, I might add. Flowers that must’ve cost a pretty penny to deliver this far from Oxford. A dinner invite to the nicest restaurant in town. Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh come on,” said Brooke. “This is, like, the ultimate form of flattery. He liked you.”
Avery didn’t deny she was flattered. He’d remembered details, made an effort because he actually wanted to see her again. And there had been that moment, that serendipitous spark before the real Ross had showed up.
Yet…she hadn’t gotten past the annoyance and embarrassment over what had happened at The Grind. How long would he have gone on lying to her if they hadn’t been interrupted?
“How can I trust a guy who had multiple opportunities to come clean about not being my date and chose not to say anything?”
“He owns his bad behavior on the card and apologized with the flowers,” insisted Brooke. “That’s gotta earn some brownie points toward paying off the deficit.”