Page 10 of One Night Collision

"I don't know, but sometimes I think so." I reach up, running my fingers along the bridge of his nose. "He's what I need when I feel overwhelmed." I turn toward her, grabbing her hands in mine. "Which is what I think you need, too. Those tight shoulders aren't going to help you in the long run, so what I want you to do is close your eyes."

"This is stupid, Damien."

"Do it," I order.

She huffs out a breath, but closes her eyes.

"Inhale and then let it out. Shake your arms, and let the irritation and stress flow through you."

I'm proud of her—she does exactly what I ask her to do. Once, twice, and then a third time. When she opens her eyes, they're more at peace than they were a few minutes ago.

"That worked." She rolls her eyes.

"I know it did. Now are you ready to ride?"

A chuckle is in the response. "I've never done it before, but for you, Damien Sizemore, it looks like I'll try anything once."

"That's exactly what I want to hear."

Chapter

Eight

Maggie

It’s beentwo days since my day date with Damien. Although, it doesn’t really count as a date if it wasn’t planned. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I can get around the two-date rule. And it’s not like I don’t want to sleep with him. I have a fucking pulse, for Pete’s sake, and if you’re into men, when it comes to Damien Sizemore, a pulse would be all that is required.

“Earth to Maggie!”

I look up to see Hannah staring at me with a look of minor irritation. “Yes, Hannah. What is it?”

“Devonna is on the phone about the Baxter wedding. She’s insisting that we have to provide at least three peonies per centerpiece… twenty-five in total.”

I laugh at that. “We can do that… if she’s willing to accept the new estimate that will have to accompany it. It will increase the price of the centerpieces from two thousand to twenty-eight hundred.” And that will go over like a lead balloon.

Hannah just hands me the phone. “I’m not telling her that. She scares me.”

Devonna Harris scares a lot of people. She’s the wedding planner in the region. All the wealthiest families—and in horse and bourbon country, there are a number of them—use her for all their weddings, Derby parties, and other events that are way too rich for my blood. But, even though she’s thrown a lot of business my way, I’m not going to take a loss on this to keep her happy.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in agreement for two peonies per centerpiece and some extra greenery for a grand total of twenty-five hundred. But I feel like I’ve been through a battle to get that.

“That was some pretty impressive negotiating.”

I know that voice. Glancing up, I meet Emma Willett’s amused expression with one of exasperation. “It was not impressive. I definitely got the short end of the stick.”

“Honey, it’s Devonna. A pack of rabid pit bulls couldn’t get the long end of the stick from her if she didn’t want to hand it to them,” Emma says with a laugh. “But I’m here to order some flowers, not talk about my high school nemesis.”

“Really? Now I want to talk about her even more!”

“I’m hosting a small gathering for Cody’s senior players and their families,” she says. “Nothing too over the top or fancy. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but I still want it to be pretty. Ten tables in total.”

“School colors are burgundy and white?” I ask. When she nods, I continue, “So we do one large wine-colored dahlia, some carnations, white daisies, some tree fern and Cocculus for greenery… I can do ten of those for you for around six hundred, if that works. If not, I can do some number crunching for some less expensive options.”

“No. That sounds wonderful. My plan is to send the arrangements home with each of the boys’ mothers. Some of these kids have single moms who probably never get fresh-cut flowers. I don’t want to skimp on these.”

“Date?”

“Two weeks from today… I know I’m cutting it close.” She pauses to rest her hands on the very prominent curve of her very, very pregnant belly. “And this one’s due two weeks after that. I’m cutting it close on a lot of things.”

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