Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“Do people still do that?” I ask. “I mean, I can’t think of actually getting flowers from a guy before. I’ve even had them tell me they were a waste of money because they die.” I pretend to cry. “No one remembers that flowers are a language of love.”

“The good ones remember.” She takes the vase and puts it in the front of the display cooler. “You know,” she says, “I can always tell a couple that’s going to make it just by watching them in here for a few minutes.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Then when I go back to dating, I’m bringing every guy in here for your take.”

She laughs. “Oh, Haley.”

“I mean it,” I insist. “I’m too old to mess around with guys who don’t want to bring me flowers.” I think about what I just said. “You know what? I think I’m turning into my mother.”

“I bet your mother was an amazing woman.”

“My mom was . . . Yes. She was amazing,” I say. “But let’s go back to this telltale love thing. I’m fascinated. How do you know?”

She brushes bits of flower petals from the desk. “Tom and I have been married for almost twenty years. We learned to communicate somewhere over the last couple of decades, and the one thing I’ve learned is this: you say and hear the most when there aren’t words exchanged.”

“That is so counterintuitive.”

“It is. But think about it.” She plucks a tulip out of a display and brings it to her nose. “I can tell when a couple comes in to do their wedding flowers if they’ll make it by how they act when no one is talking. Anyone can promise someone the world or pick a fight, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Those things mean nothing. But when I go in the back to do a quick mock-up of an arrangement and peek around the corner and see a couple laughing or comforting each other with a simple look—those are the ones that make it. You almost have to take the ‘I love you’ out of it to know they are in love, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Kind of,” I say, trying to wrap my head around it. I don’t get too far when the door chimes behind me. I turn to see Gary Rambis walking in.

“Well, good morning, Haley,” he says. “What brings you here?”

“I was just walking to the Dogwood Café and thought I’d come in to see Jen and the fall flowers. What about you?”

“I thought I’d take Amanda some flowers at lunch. Neely said her mom likes daisies,” he says, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Today is our dating anniversary, and I thought I’d do a little something special for her.” His brow furrows. “That’s what you do, right? Or is that cheesy? I haven’t done this in so long.”

I giggle at how cute he is. “Flowers are never the wrong answer, Gary.”

He wipes an invisible line of sweat from his brow. “Whew. I was afraid the rules had changed since I’ve done this.”

“Nope. It was good seeing you,” I tell him.

Looking up at Jennifer, I slip on Trevor’s jacket again. My stomach starts to churn as I realize I haven’t asked about a job yet. Anxiety hits me full on with every worst-case scenario playing through my mind like wildfire.

Then as I start toward the door, a whiff of roses tickles my nose. I stop and turn around.

“Hey, Jennifer,” I say. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for help?”

I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. Avoiding Gary’s gaze, I look at Jennifer as confidently as I can and pray this was a good decision.

She grins. “You know, I was going to bring that up to you earlier, and then Tom called. Are you interested?”

“Definitely. I mean, if you think I could do it.”

She stands straight, a smile painted on her face. “Of course you could do it. You’d be great at it. I just need to talk to Tom about a few things first.” She pauses and glances quickly at Gary. “I’ll call you in a couple of days if that works for you?”

“Absolutely. Thanks, Jennifer.” I give her a quick wave and step back outside.

The sun is a bit higher in the sky, my spirits right there with it. I almost skip down the road toward the Dogwood Café.

I glance down at Trevor’s jacket hanging to my knees and laugh.

CHAPTER NINE

TREVOR

I shut the truck door behind me. “This is the only place to get lunch, huh?”

Penn is leaning against the side of his pickup. “If you want food it is. If you want—”

“Act like you got some sense, will ya, Penn?” Dane comes around the corner of Penn’s truck, shaking his head. “Seriously.”

“How do you know Trev’s not looking for a piece of something other than pie?” Penn holds out his hands. “Just trying to give the guy options.”