Thorn in My Side (Bunch-A-Blooms 2)
Olive
Davenport candies are world renowned. Their chocolate is a tiny sliver of heaven one must unwrap and savor as it melts on the tongue while a choir of angels sing, and taste buds do the Charleston. The old time dance reminds me of the family and their branding. The Davenport logo with its gold lettering and raised seal stand out against their black boxes. The combination always reminded me of everything shiny and glamorous about the1920s. I assume they kept the same style as a nod to the time-period when the company was first established.
The local company had grown and gone on to conquer far beyond the area of Loveland, Ohio where their roots are still firmly planted. I pop a strawberry champagne truffle in my mouth to remind myself of one of the perks that came with the new contract. Free candy. That alone should be enough to help me deal with the pompous, arrogant, perfectionist, Luka Davenport.
Truly, it’s one of life's ironies that the man who is the head of the candy empire never failed to leave a sour taste in my mouth. You'd think it was his wedding I was bringing to life instead of his sister's. A knock sounds on the door and I sigh. Of course, his highness is punctual. It wouldn't do to keep us peasants waiting. I rise from the couch and prepare to meet the devil. Like Lucifer, this bastard is more gorgeous than any mere mortal dared be with cornflower blue eyes and thick, wavy, light-brown hair that frames his angelic face.
I open the door and find his full pink lips fixed in an ever-present tiny frown that exudes displeasure. He has a killer set of dimples that paired well with his strong jawline and slight cleft chin. The indent was just enough to give him character, without being overwhelming like some clefts. It’s like a sculptor worked on his features. Clearly God made him so pretty because he knew what a pain in the ass he’d become.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bateman."
There's something cold in the way he addresses me. Now it's my turn to scowl.
"Mr. Davenport. Please, come in." I step back, and he slips inside my apartment. I wonder how it must look to him. His wool coat and the tailored pants that rest on Italian loafers are worth more than I make in a month. I stand a bit taller as I close the door.
I love my life. I might not make money hand over fist, but I live on my terms, I support, myself, and I get to create daily. It's the crafting of jewelry that drew Rachel to me in the first place. Despite her wealth, the simplistic, rustic, and down-to-earth bride wanted a very specific look for her wedding, and she insisted on hometown talent to provide it. Getting to work with my bestie, and floral shop owner, Petunia on what was the wedding of the century in our small town is a windfall. With her upgraded building, she’s able to handle the large order, and make back a portion of what she and her husband and business partner, Mason have recently invested.
“You have the item ready for me to inspect?” he asks.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Every piece I make has to be approved by him before they go to Rachel because he didn’t want her to get her heart set on something inappropriate. I understand wanting to keep up appearances. For someone at their level of wealth and influence, it must be stifling. But it is her wedding. She should have everything she wants, and nothing she doesn’t. Who cares if she goes more simplistic than most with her bank account would? I am crafting everything from the bridesmaid’s jewelry to wedding guests’ gifts, and table centerpieces. When she said she wanted her wedding customized, she meant one of a kind. My bank account and reputation are thanking her profusely. My nerves after dealing with her older brother, are not.
“Yes, I made three for you to choose from. If you’ll take a seat on the couch, I’ll go get them.”
He looks at the couch I lovingly refer to as the big green monster and grimaces. I turn away to hide my smirk as he perches on the edge, completely out of place. I hurry away into my workspace and grab the breakfast tray where my rectangular black velvet jewelry displays hold the napkin rings. Rachel is taking the fairytale theme to a whole other level as they recreate a wondrous garden with whimsical elements and insane architecture. I suppose when you’re marrying a man who designs buildings for a living, it makes sense that you both get what you want when you tie the knot.
Pinecroft, the Crosley Estate, is the perfect blend of old world charm, sophistication, and spacious enough for the number of guests they’d like to attend. The 17 acres house a garden pavilion and a historic mansion. I struggle to keep my hands from shaking as I set the tray on the table in front of him and hold my hands behind my back. Luka Davenport makes me more than a little nervous.
He picks up the silver strands of wire I’ve woven together and his brows furrowed.
“You realize we’re having an upscale event, don’t you?” He arches his hard angled thick eyebrows, casting shade like it’s his job.
I grit my teeth. “That’s why there are three options. She wants simple, he cares about angles, and you want decadence. It's a tall order to fulfill, so I am offering multiple options to please you all. You may have the first say, but Rachel has the final. It is her day after all.”
“And yet, I’m the one footing the bill. Believe me, Ms. Bate
man, I’m quite aware of whose day it is, because my little sister has yet to let anyone forget it, and the blasted day is still six months away.” The accent he’s procured from working in England is attractive.
I bite my tongue. Arguing with the man holding the credit card is never a smart idea. Don’t let anyone mess with your money. The phrase handed down in my family keeps me grounded. He can play the part of Oscar the Grouch all he wants. As long as he doesn’t disrespect me, I can handle his prickliness.
The twitch of the corners of his lips, betrays his affection for Rachel regardless of his cross tone. You have a heart after all, tin man. He picks up the brass rose I hammered to perfection. With angled petals, it was a thing of beauty.
“Better.”
My jaw drops, and I close it quickly before he notices. He has no clue what it takes to manipulate metal.
He moves on to the silver circles I’d carefully clustered to look like a flower and adorned with crystals.
“Are these?” He narrows his gaze. “Rhinestone?”
“Yes, for this prototype. However, if you like the design, I can easily switch it out for the stone of your choosing.”
“We’d need Swarovski of course.” He sets the pieces down and taps the area between the rose and the flower cluster. “I’m okay with either of these two. Rachel’s pick will decide.”
How nice of you to include her in your choices.
“I’ll bring this to the meeting we have with Petunia this weekend, so I can get started making more as soon as she chooses.”
“And you’ll be able to produce three-hundred and fifty of them for the wedding?”
“You’re paying me handsomely for a reason, Mr. Davenport. You have me pretty much exclusively dedicated to this event for the next six months. I would never have agreed if I couldn’t deliver. So, if you’re worried about me falling short, don’t.”
“I wasn’t. But it’s good to see you’re so committed.”
“You wouldn’t have hired me if you didn’t know that,” I counter.