Page 68 of Dreams That Bind Us
He had been cold and distant and it had cut her to the core, especially when she'd been so completely vulnerable. There was no way she could accept any of this.
"Look. I don't think I could even pick one of these up, much less carry them all into my warehouse. Plus, there's nowhere to put them. They'll just sit out here in the heat and wilt until the animals eat them. Why don't you take them to Old Town and set them out on the sidewalk, or hand them out to tourists or even set them up in one of the bars up Duval Street? They'd probably love that."
The man cackled as if she had cracked the best joke of the year. "I'll help you carry them into your warehouse. Don't you worry, ma'am. But hold on, there's one more in the van for you."
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" This entire situation was ludicrous. Maybe if she went back to bed, she'd wake up and realize this was all just a bad dream. That's right—none of this was real.
Breaking her heart and ending things was bad enough, but she would never forgive James for this. To disappear and ignore her, then come barging back when it was convenient for him and destroying her sense of peace? Nope.
Not on your life, buddy.
"Okay, I'm ready," the man wheezed as he lugged the final arrangement over. "Can you hold the door open for me?"
Anna folded her arms across her chest, firmed her jaw, and delivered the iciest glare in her arsenal. There was no way this crap was going in her warehouse, her sanctuary. James, and anything to do with him, was no longer allowed there.
"Ma'am, come on." The man plunked the vase on the ground, water sloshing over the edge. "Please don't ruin this order and tip for me. I'm a small business owner and sales have been down all year. They also said if I took care of this for them, I'd get a contract to supply flowers to that new hotel they're about to openon the south side of the island. It’s a lifesaver for me and I'll be in the black by the end of this month."
Shit.
If there was anything Anna understood, it was the difficulty of running a small business. It wasn't this guy's fault that his customer was a massive asshole who liked to play with women's emotions.
"Okay, fine." She pulled her door wide and propped it open with a cinder block, then followed him inside. "But shove them against the walls. I don't want them in the way while I'm working."
"Not a problem."
Anna watched as the man placed all ten along the walls throughout the huge open space. It actually looked decent, not that she was about to admit it.
"There!" The man wiped his hands. "That should do it. They look great with this industrial backdrop. You should do a photo shoot in here. Did you sign that form?"
She grumbled under her breath as she grudgingly scribbled her name across the line, then shoved it at him. "Here. Now go. I have work to do."
Boy, did she ever. She’d finish those last three pieces and never have anything to do with the man ever again.
It was her only focus now: removing every last tie she had to James Armstrong from this warehouse and her life.
"Thank you." He scanned the form and gave her a nod. "Hey, don't forget this." He handed over the envelope, gave her a brisk nod and walked out the door. "Have a good day," he called out over his shoulder.
Anna scowled at the envelope, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as if it carried the plague. The last thing she wanted to do was read his Dear Jane letter.
It was better to leave things the way they were now rather than resurrect the pain. The odds were low that she'd run into him on the island. Besides, it seemed like he wouldn't be on Key West much anyway. If they did cross paths, she'd just pretend he didn't exist.
Yeah, it could work.
She closed the door and locked it, then stumbled to her desk and tossed the large envelope into the massive pile of unfiled paperwork on her filing cabinet.
Her first instinct was to throw it in the trash, but something held her back. Maybe she could read it a few years from now when it didn't hurt so much. Or when she got lonely, she could use it as a reminder of why relationships weren't for her.
If that day ever came.
Chapter 18
Key West
James wound his Range Rover around the muddy potholes, which technically could be classified as sinkholes, and carefully avoided various bicycle parts and other debris scattered in the road.
The first time he had driven out here with the gallery representative, he had wondered if they'd made a wrong turn. It had amazed him that just beyond this run-down trailer park was a series of warehouses, a couple of locally famous restaurants, one of the best fish markets around, and a high-end yacht marina.
The disparity was shocking.
