Chapter 1

...pink roses, the flower of graciousness

“Okay, Krissy, you are in the book for 1pm on Friday.  Bring any ideas you have for flowers and themes along with you and we will go over them to see what might work best for your ideas.  Also, come up with a budget on how much you want to spend on the flowers for the wedding because things can go over budget quickly.  See you then!”

I hung up the phone and looked over at Jess and did a little fist pump.

“Another wedding?” Jess asked with a smile.

“You betcha.  We need this one; it will be a big wedding with basically an unlimited budget from the sounds of it.  Seems like the girl is marrying some athlete,” I said as I rolled my eyes a bit despite knowing this could be a big break in getting my flower shop some much needed business.  I opened it a couple years ago with my grandmother and it was all it took to keep our head above water in such a competitive town as Anaheim.  If we could get our name out, there was money to be had.

“Ooo.  Did you hear who the athlete is?”

“Nope, and it doesn’t really matter to me.  I could give two shits about those overpaid people, unless they are willing to give me their money,” I grumbled, going back to cleaning up some roses that were just delivered this morning.

“Speaking of athletes, there was a guy who came in here this morning that I think played for the Anaheim Ducks.  He bought a dozen of those pink roses, saying he had to say sorry to his girlfriend for something,” Jess informed me as she came over to help with the roses.

“I’m sure he cheated on her or something.”

“I think I’d forgive him with how cute he looked,” she said as she hip checked me.  “Well, I did guarantee him that they would cure whatever problem he needed to fix,” she announced.

“You have always been a softy,” I said, giving a look of sorrow to my hopeless romantic employee and best friend.

“And you have always been one to not fall for the romantic stuff.  I never understood it.  How can you work in such a romantic place and not get all into it?” she said over dramatically.

“Because I am a realist, Jess,” I stated simply.

A realist who has seen so many men walk into my store that cheated on their wives and thought flowers would fix everything.  Or what about the husbands that would frequent the store to send flowers to their girlfriend in another town and also to their wives to make sure they weren’t suspected?  I had seen way too much of that in my time.

“This girlfriend thing really is a pain in my ass.  I’m so tired of putting forth an effort only to get knocked back down again,” I whined to Bobby while we walked out of the practice rink and into the parking lot to our cars.

“I think you try too hard for the girls that shouldn’t matter much,” he said honestly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Rochelle is just too much to deal with.  I mean, who the hell gets pissed off at their boyfriend of 2 months for forgetting her mom’s birthday?  Honestly, I don’t know where you find these chicks.  You need to find someone normal or something.”

“I thought she was normal,” I said seriously.

“Loops, it is not normal to wear hooker boots for a hiking trip,” he pointed out.

“She was just trying to impress.”

“Are you really that blind?  Did they cut some nerves with all the back surgeries you’ve had?”

“So do you think the flowers are too much?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Bobby just snorted and answered, “I don’t see her as the flower kind of girl, man.  I think she is the last person to take flowers as an apology.”

“You are just saying that because you think she is a stuck up snob,” I quipped as I laid the flowers on the passenger side of my Jeep.  Bobby never liked Rochelle because he was never one for the high maintenance girls I always seemed to be infatuated with.

“I think you are just too much of a hopeless romantic to actually find a girl that will take you seriously,” Bobby said honestly.  “And I think you are just trying too hard to fall in love.  You need to just let that one rest.”

“Just because you and Krissy instantly realized you both belonged together does not mean it might just take some time for me and Rochelle,” I announced smugly before I started up the Jeep and put it in drive.  Hearing myself say the words suddenly made me feel not as sure of myself as I did just a second ago.

“She’s not worth it and you need to just let things happen.”

“Unfortunately things don’t just happen for me,” I mumbled as I drove away.

The next morning I was sorting through my flower delivery when I heard the bells jingle on the shop door.  I didn’t even get time to turn around when I heard the man’s voice start talking.

“You told me these would fix my problem,” I heard him say to Jess as she gasped.

“I-they-um…” she stuttered.

“She told me to shove them up her ass, so now I’m bringing them back to you,” he continued in a foul mood.

“Excuse me, what seems to be the problem?” I walked around from the back of the shop while wiping my hands on the towel I was carrying to find a tall, light brown almost blonde haired man standing at the counter with a distraught look on his face.  He had soft blue eyes and was wearing a tight fitting t-shirt that achingly stretched across his broad shoulders.

“She guaranteed me that these flowers would get the right reaction from my girlfriend who is now my ex-girlfriend.  I just wanted to let her know that it didn’t work,” he said, seemingly frustrated that I was getting involved with his little rant.

“Well, guaranteeing something like that was probably not the best thing, but we can’t fix infidelity,” I snapped.

The guy’s eyes popped open wide.  “Infidelity?!” he scoffed as he stepped back, obviously appalled at my accusation.  “You think I bought flowers to say sorry for cheating on her?!”

“Yeah, isn’t that what all you big sports players do?”  I asked, putting my hands on my hips.  “I mean you guys make all this money and think its okay to go about and do what you want with other women…”

“Whoa lady, you got it all wrong,” he insisted, taking a step back towards the counter, looking slightly angry.

“Oh, then tell me?  What part did I get wrong?” I challenged him, making sure I raised my eyebrow dramatically.

He stood there, stared, and shoved his hands in his pockets before speaking.  The words that came from his mouth were not at all I was expecting. “She was mad at me because I forgot about her mom’s birthday,” he stated plainly.

I opened my mouth to say something witty, but honestly, I couldn’t think of anything, because it was probably the most pathetic thing I had ever heard.  I even heard Jess snort in the back room.  She had walked away as the man and I went rounds, but she obviously felt the need to still listen.

“See,” he said like he just won the battle.

“That’s pathetic,” I mumbled.

“Huh?”

“She got mad at you for forgetting her mom’s birthday? Really? What the hell kind of girl are you dating?”

“I’m not dating her anymore, remember, that is the reason I’m here bringing back the flowers,” he growled obviously distraught over the stupid situation.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at his complete stupidity.  “You can’t return flowers,” I reiterated.  Is this guy fucking stupid or what?

“Oh,” he said, slumping his shoulders.  It amazed me how such a strong built guy could look so pathetic at this moment.  “Well I figured since she guaranteed me that they would fix the situation that they would be returnable if they didn’t work.”

“Well she should have not guaranteed them and no, you may not return them.  Give them to someone else if you don’t want them in your house,” I informed him as I was still in disbelief about the fact I was even having this conversation with someone who made a couple million a year.  Worst part, he didn’t seem to have much of a brain.

I was thrown for even more of a loop as he suddenly pushed the flowers in my face.  “Here, take them, I’m giving them to you because I’m sure no one ever gives you flowers since you work at a flower shop,” he said in a thoughtful tone.  If I wouldn’t have thought him so pathetic, I would have almost thought his gesture a cute one.

I held up my hand to say no, but he grabbed my wrist, opened my hand and placed the flowers in my hand, closing my fingers around the stems.

“By the way,” he said as he stepped back.  “As a florist, you probably shouldn’t think the worst of people just because they are coming in here to buy flowers for an apology.  I might be a ‘big sports player,’” he quoted with his hands, “but it doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy.  I’m just a guy who can’t seem to find the right girl.  Oh, and you should smile because you probably look beautiful when you do.”

Before I could get my mouth to work, he turned around and tromped out of the shop.