Page 34 of The Floral Arrangement

I pulledup in front of a white weatherboard cottage. Olivia leaned against the blue picket fence, looking effortlessly cool in a knee-length red floral dress and white sneakers, her wavy hair tied in a low ponytail. She raised a hand in greeting.

My stomach dropped. In retrospect, my standard gym gear—black tights and a racer back top—perhaps wasn’t the best outfit for going undercover to explore the local venues on a gorgeous spring day. I had a sinking suspicion that the other patrons would be dressed more like Olivia and less like gym junkies.

I sighed and turned off the ignition. Olivia’s eyes trailed up and down my body as I stepped out of the car holding my backpack, no doubt judging my clothing choices.

“Not a word,” I said, lifting a finger. “You were the one who insisted on cycling.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Olivia replied, her lips twitching.

Two bikes leaned against the fence next to her. One was black and sleek, and the other was burnt orange with a wicker basket decorated with fake flowers. No prizes for guessing which one was Olivia’s.

I eyed the bikes with trepidation. “I hope the saying that you never forget how to ride a bike is true,” I muttered under my breath. I hadn’t ridden a real bike since I was a kid. But surely the hundreds of hours I’d spent in spin class had to count for something?

“Here’s your bike,” Olivia said, pulling the black bike off the fence and handing it to me. A helmet hung from one of the handles.

“Thanks.” My hand brushed her fingers as I grabbed the bike, leaving a trail of warmth on my skin.

I shoved on the helmet, pulled my backpack over my shoulders and studied the bike. How was it possible that my entire five-foot-eight body was meant to balance on those two wheels? My stomach clenched. l should have insisted on driving. What was I thinking?

“Is everything okay?” Olivia clipped her pink helmet under her chin. “You do know how to ride a bike, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” I threw my leg over the bike.Ouch.A pain shot from my groin down my thigh. I winced.

Olivia gracefully jumped onto her bike and started to pedal down the road. She made it look so easy, so effortless.

I placed my feet on the pedals and pushed. The bike wobbled. My stomach swooped as it fell sideways. I yelped, shooting my leg out to steady myself.

Olivia stopped and twisted around. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just a little out of practice,” I snapped.God, I hate being bad at things.

Olivia raised her eyebrows but shrugged and set off again. I put my feet back on the pedals. I tried not to think about the fact that my entire body was defying gravity by balancing on two thin wheels.Pretend I’m back at my spin class.I hummed a techno track under my breath, pumping my legs in time, and was suddenly speeding ahead of Olivia.

“Hey,” Olivia yelled, “this isn’t the Tour de France! We’re just out for a leisurely Sunday bike ride. I don’t want to get all sweaty.”

Olivia had a point. Not only that, but I had no idea where we were going. I slowed my pace, letting Olivia take the lead. I exhaled. I seemed to have found my balance and no longer had to go at spin-class speed to stay upright.

After a few minutes of cycling through the side streets of Sapphire Springs, Olivia disappeared off the road.

Grumbling under my breath, I twisted the bike handles to follow her. My heart lurched as the bike skidded onto a dirt path. I gripped the handles tightly, just managing to regain control.

After a few minutes adjusting to the bumpy surface, I peeled my eyes off the ground in front of me and looked around. Green pines and cedars lined the path. Chirping birds flitted between the trees. There was only a smattering of fluffy white clouds in the deep-blue sky. I inhaled a big lungful of fresh air and blew it out again. This was a lot more pleasant than a darkened spin studio.

Olivia slowed her pace so we were pedaling side-by-side. I shot a glance at her. Wisps of hair escaped out of her helmet, dark against her pink cheeks. My heart picked up pace.It’s just the cycling. Nothing to do with Olivia.

“You know, you should really talk to somebody about having the path extended to Red Tractor Farm,” Olivia said. “It’d only be another mile or two, and I think it would attract even more business, especially if you add a taproom. The path is very popular with the tourists in summer.”

I frowned. It wasn’t a bad idea. “Perhaps.”

We continued cycling in silence until a driveway leading up to a white building came into view.

Olivia leaped off her bike and leaned it against a tree.

I pedaled backward to brake. My stomach flipped. The bike kept hurtling forward, toward a large white sign with a cow on it.

Oh god.Panic flooded my nervous system, sending my blood pumping.

The brakes weren’t working. The sign loomed closer.

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