Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection) by Amanda Tru & Hallee Bridgeman & Alana Terry & Carol Moncado & Chautona Havig

Author:Amanda Tru & Hallee Bridgeman & Alana Terry & Carol Moncado & Chautona Havig [Tru, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
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ISBN: 9781681901046
Publisher: Olivia Kimbrell Press
Published: 2017-11-20T06:00:00+00:00

“Hey, Reid? That guy from the flower shop is out there. Says he needs to talk to you?”

Reid looked up from plating a salmon and wild rice and nodded. “Be right there.” Steamed broccoli, garlic, butter, and dill drizzled over both broccoli and salmon—done. He slid it under the heat lights and nodded at the server who whisked it away again.

The door slammed shut behind him before Reid could catch it. “Does it to me every time.” He gave Wayne a shrug and a wry smile. “What’s up?”

“Um…” Red-faced, feet shuffling, hardly able to glance in even the direction of Reid’s eyes, Wayne looked like a little kid who’d broken the front window—again.

“What? I’ve got prep work before I’m off.”

“So…” Wayne shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, you know how I told you about my niece?”

“The floral designer?”

A nod, another shuffle. Wayne cleared his throat. “Well, so Brooke had this big mishap at work—somehow got orders all mixed up. Sent stuff to all the wrong people. Mom’s convinced she’s gonna get fired.”

“Yeah… that’s tough. I’ll add her to the prayer board the minute I get—”

But as Reid turned to go, Wayne interrupted him. “Your mother’s flowers—that card? Yeah. It went to Kelsey just a while ago.”

Each word reverberated in his mind until he ached to crush it out again. He could only manage an abrupt reply. “What?!”

“I’m sorry—well, I want to be sorry, but I can’t be. If you saw her face when she read that card.”

“The card I wrote for Mom?” Reid’s brain scrambled to recall the words he’d written, but only one stood out. Love. “The one where I said I never tell her how much I love her? You gave that to Kelsey?!”

There, Wayne had the decency to blush and stammer a bit. “I—I—yep. And if you could have seen her face. She danced. If you’d seen—”

“Well, I didn’t.” Something niggled at him. What about the situation didn’t fit? Before he could work out that problem, the reminder that Kelsey sat in The Prayer Room with his mother’s sunflowers, thinking he’d admitted how much he loved her. A groan roared from the depths of his heart. “What I am I supposed to do? I can’t tell her it was a mistake. It’d hurt her—”

“Then don’t!” Wayne stepped forward. “Look, it’s my fault. I did this. But you don’t have to tell her that. You’da sent ’em eventually. So just take the… mix-up as a… blessing and…” With each word, his argument petered into worthlessness. “Reid, really. I want to say I’m sorry, but I can’t. She was so happy. So, I’m not sorry.” Wayne’s repeated apology rang true, annoying as it was. “But I will ask your forgiveness.”

A lifetime habit of raking his hands through his hair when frustrated reemerged, despite his fight against it. “Chefs never touch their hands to their face or their hair. Don’t forget that.” His culinary arts teacher had been adamant, and yet he’d blown it. Again.

“Wayne, of course, I forgive you, but I won’t pretend I’m not ticked.

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