I rolled my eyes. “Really? You’re going to claim that as gospel now?”
“Whatever it takes.” Micah thought I had a habit of not giving guys a chance. She wasn’t wrong. But Kyle was different. I’d been crushing on him for a couple of months now. So despite having to sit through his detailed descriptions of what a V8, 435-horsepower engine could do, I was willing to agree with her that first dates could be aberrations.
“Fine, one more date.”
She smiled. “Good. Will he be here tonight?”
“Could you see his band playing at this thing? The old people would riot.”
“I meant with his grandma. Doesn’t his grandma live here at Willow Falls now?”
“Does she? She wasn’t at last year’s event. But maybe. I can tell you who doesn’t live here: his car. I know everything about his car.”
“I got that.” Micah tugged on the hair tie to make sure the curly bun on top of her head was secure. “Okay. Better get back to work, love.”
She kissed the air by my cheek, then headed toward the building. I walked around to the side door of the van and slid it open.
“Oh!” Micah turned and walked backward for a few steps. “I have to tell you something later! Something really big!”
“What do you need to tell … ?” Before I finished my question, she was through the door and it swung shut behind her.
Something big? Good big or bad big? Why did she do that to me? She knew I couldn’t sit with information like that.
I slid Caroline’s boxes full of gift bags toward me. Unassembled gift bags. Great. I now knew what I’d be spending most of my night doing. I stacked one box on top of the other and carried them back inside.
I made it halfway down the hall when I heard a voice call out from behind me.
“Excuse me?”
I turned. A guy around my age, dressed in fitted jeans, a pastel collared shirt, and a tailored sport jacket stood there, a smile on his handsome face. He clearly wasn’t from around here. He was citified.
I offered him a polite smile, hoping this wouldn’t take long. “The event doesn’t start for fifteen minutes,” I said. “But you’re welcome to wait in the lobby. Families are already gathering there.”
I knew every school-aged kid in my town (and most of their living and dead relatives). So this guy had to be here visiting for the event. I tried to place him with a grandparent in my head—Betty or Carl or Leo or …
“You’re not from around here,” he said, as if voicing my thoughts.
I shifted the boxes in my arms. They weren’t heavy but they were bulky. “What?”
“You’re not from Rockside,” he said.
“I am, actually. Born and raised.”
“Ah. There it is. I didn’t hear your Southern accent at first.”
I straightened with a bit of pride. I worked very hard on making my accent as minimal as possible so that when I went away to college I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb.
The guy took several steps forward and pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal he’d been holding a pink tulip. “Something beautiful for someone beautiful.”
My brows dipped down. Seriously? I wasn’t sure what to make of such a brazen romantic gesture. If that’s what he was going for. Was it?
I looked at the boxes in my arms, transferred them awkwardly to one hip, and reached out for the flower. With my hand halfway to its destination, I noticed a small green wire wrapped up the stem and supported the bulb.
I paused. “Where did you get that?”
The question seemed to surprise him, his smile faltered a bit, but he recovered with, “It doesn’t matter where it came from, only where it’s going.” He extended his arm farther.
I set the boxes down on the floor and took the flower to inspect it. Sure enough, the wire was wrapped exactly the way I’d done it on over a hundred tulips that very morning. Hours and hours of my life were spent with that wire, in fact.
“You took this from one of the vases in the cafeteria?” I asked, incredulous.
He nodded. “Yes, I rescued it from its tacky prison. It looks happier already.”
My mouth dropped open.
“No worries. There were hundreds of them. Nobody will be able to tell.”
“No worries?” I turned and marched back to the cafeteria.
“I sense I’ve offended you,” Mr. Obvious said, following me. Or Mr. Entitled? Maybe I’d go for a hyphenated last name since both applied.
I stood in the doorway and scanned the centerpieces.
“You’re telling me that you’re going to know which one of these flower arrangements I found this flower in,” he said.
“Found? Yes, I’m going to tell you exactly which flower arrangement you stole this flower from, considering I’ve spent the last eight hours putting them together.”
He coughed. “Oh. Did I say tacky? I meant … uh … festive.”
I rolled my eyes.
I saw him glance my way, as if sizing me up. I was wearing a silky green blouse with a floral knee-length skirt. My party attire. But even outside of work events, I liked fun colors and classic styles.
“These centerpieces aren’t your design anyway,” he pronounced, “so I don’t know why you’re upset.”
I scowled. “There is no way you could possibly know that.”
He shrugged like he disagreed, then said, “I still don’t think you’ll be able to tell which one I took it from.”
“I will.”
“Without counting the flowers?”
“You’re adding rules to this made-up game?”
“Yes!” he said proudly. “If you can’t tell which arrangement is missing a flower just by looking, then nobody else will be able to tell either and you must accept my gift.”
“Can something that was stolen really be called a gift?” I asked, and began weaving in and out of tables.
“Deal?”
Leo’s grandson sure was annoying. Maybe he was John’s grandson. John was known for being demanding. But I could’ve sworn I’d met all John’s grandkids at the town’s Fourth of July barbecue the previous year. “And if I win?” I asked.
One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “If you win, I owe you a dozen flowers that I must pay for.”
“A dozen flowers arranged by me.”
“Only if they don’t involve foil.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s called cellophane. And they won’t.”
“I sense this is going to be expensive.”
Based on his appearance, I was more than sure he could afford it. “I sense that you need to make restitution for dozens and dozens of past stolen flowers.”
When he didn’t argue, I knew I’d guessed right. I wasn’t the first girl he’d tried to impress with a flower, acquired without any forethought. My eyes moved from studying him standing there in his arrogance to studying the flowers again. It didn’t take me long to see the lopsided arrangement. He’d taken the flower from the right side, throwing off the entire shape. I sighed, made my way over to the table, and tucked the tulip I was holding into its rightful place.