Page 4 of The Cowboy's Country Charm

“How-dy.” Ariel strung out the word as Rusty slipped through the outer doorway.

Ariel kept her eyes focused on the glass door as Rusty disappeared into the hallway. “Who was that hunk?”

Ariel was much more open to people and new experiences than Kristy would ever be. With Ariel’s baby face framed by long blond hair, waiflike figure, big brown eyes, and flowy clothes, she looked like a model for a Margaret Keane drawing

“Hunk? I hadn’t noticed.” But she knew her grin would give her away. She headed back to her desk.

Ariel followed.

“Not much you didn’t. Don’t tell me he’s getting married and wants us to plan the wedding? It’d be a shame if he was off the market just as we got here.”

“No. He’s the florist. Or at least representing the florist. Seems the owner of Flowers by June is his sister. She had some sort of emergency, and he stepped in to keep the meeting.”

“I certainly wouldn’t have pegged him for a florist.”

“Makes us both guilty of stereotyping. Turns out he’s applying to be a police officer.”

Ariel scooted to one of the chairs by Kristy’s desk. “Well, didn’t we get chummy.”

Kristy shrugged and hoped she didn’t blush. “Just some chitchat. I mean, I was as intrigued as you as to what he was doing with a florist’s portfolio in his hands.”

“Any good?” Ariel set her purse on the desk.

“The florist? I’d say so, but you’re the real judge.” She pointed to the notebook. “The portfolio shows some beautiful and creative pieces. I just hope she doesn’t need to be prepaid. By the way, we got that new client. It’s a day-of coordinating job, but they do need flowers.”

Ariel clapped. “That’s good news. Now we just have to hope this client goes through with the marriage.” Ariel sat in the seat that had been occupied by Rusty. Her petite figure looked right at home in the minimalist chair. “If only we could screen for potential cold-feet syndrome.”

“Or for cheating spouses-to-be.” Kristy sat behind the desk, sank back in her upholstered chair, and cupped her hands behind her head. She needed to stop dwelling on her own sorry past, especially when dealing with other people’s weddings. “I think I’m going to trade in those chairs for a more substantial set. Those look too… delicate.”

Ariel glanced at the chair, then back at Kristy. “So did you get his number?”

“Hisnumber? Why would I needhisnumber?”

“He had a Cheshire cat-sized grin on his face, like he’d just found his next mouse. And you were blushing. I’d say there was interest on both your parts.”

Kristy straightened. “You’re imagining things. I certainly wasn’t blushing. And I’m not interested. The only thing that interests me is making a success of this operation. The only thing.” If she said it enough times, it would sink in.

“Denial won’t change facts, Kristy.”

Chapter 2

He’d waited three weeks for this moment. He stopped the van in front of the American Legion hall and slid out. Despite the calendar saying it was May, the temperature had soared into the eighties, so he’d taken the refrigerated van Junie rented in the summer to assure flowers arrived looking fresh. He sidled up to the entrance door. He knew this place well, having spent a time or two at karaoke night. He had a decent bass voice, or so he was told. A few beers didn’t hurt the reviews any.

It was a typical hall, with gray wood-paneled walls, but as he strode through the vestibule and stepped into the large reception hall, the room had been transformed. Gone were the wood-paneled walls, replaced by billowy white sheets and purple streamers that made the place look like something out ofThe Arabian Nightsrather than a cow-town dance hall. Purple napkins sat beside white plates on white linen tablecloths. Purple must be the color choice, considering the vases of predominantly purple flowers, accented with white and pink ones, crammed into the back of the van.

He’d been hoping to find Kristy in the hall, but no one was in sight.

She’d brushed him off like he was an irritating mosquito. Like she couldn’t be bothered. And a woman who couldn’t be bothered was unlikely to expect a commitment, at least not in the beginning. And that was all he was in for. Begin and then move on. No one gets in too deep. No one gets hurt. No one learns too much.

Besides, he liked a challenge.

“Hello?” He heard footsteps and tensed.

“Hi” came a voice from behind him.

He whirled around. It was the other woman. Thin and diminutive with big brown eyes, she reminded him of a cute little chihuahua. “Hi. Is Kristy around?”

“You’re the florist guy.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Ariel. We passed each other at the office. I’m the designer for An Affair to Remember.”

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