Page 23 of Chasing I Do
Not ladies, Gage corrected. Seniors. In flowered dresses, pearled gloves, and hats worthy of a British royal wedding. A table full of them, sipping tea from elegant cups and eating sandwiches fit for a dog.
“That sounds ideal,” a woman with bright pink lipstick and two matching circles painted on her cheeks said. “And where would you propose placing the flower stands?”
“We could always go traditional and have them set up around the lawn. Or we could get innovative and,” Darcy removed the front poster board to expose a blown-up blueprint of Belle Mont’s first floor, with red dots scattered strategically throughout, “move the show inside.”
Several gasps escaped, followed by a chorus of whispers—some excited, some skeptical.
“I know that you have had the rose show outside for several decades, but your organization was founded by Ms. Pitman and her three best friends as a way to share ideas and celebrate their blooms. Their first ever Heirloom Bloomers Tea was held in Ms. Pitman’s sunroom,” Darcy said, silencing the group. “By moving it back indoors, it will allowusto spotlight each and every entry, androse enthusiaststo take a leisurely walk back in time, admiring rose blooms whose roots date back several generations, in the way Ms. Pitman had originally imagined. A coming together of friends and neighbors.”
“I do love the sound of that,” a lady in bifocals, holding a cane said. “But our tables are much too big, they’d block the hallway.”
“Excellent observation, Connie,” Darcy said. “Which is why I have spoken with a local contractor, who’s willing to build some vintage looking flower pedestals at a discounted price.”
Gage looked down at Fancy, who was straining on the leash, trying to get loose so he could go greet everyone with a proper doggie hello. “We’re going back inside to wait until her meeting is over. No wee-wee pads in there, so if you have to go, you hold it. Understood?”
“Yip!”
All dozen sets of eyes turned his way at the bark, including Darcy’s. They went big with surprise, before taking a slow discovery of his body, only to stop when they reached Littleshit and narrow into two pissed off slits.
“Real smooth entrance,” he whispered to the dog, who barked and went back to yanking at the leash. “No licking and no crotch sniffing. We’ll go in like gentlemen and charm her into giving us a second chance.”
Making his way down the back steps, Fancy trotting like he was a thoroughbred and this was the winner’s lap at the Kentucky Derby, Gage greeted the table, “Morning, ladies. We didn’t mean to interrupt your party.”
“Well, a party isn’t a party until the gentlemen arrive,” a portly woman in her seventies said, pulling out a lace fan and cooling her cheeks. “And aren’t you quite the specimen. Are you the contractor?” She looked at Darcy. “Is he the contractor?”
Gage’s biceps flexed a bit, along with his ego, and Darcy snorted. “He doesn’t know a thing about construction. Probably doesn’t even own a tool belt.”
“It isn’t about how many tools a man has in his belt, it’s how well he uses the tools he has,” Gage said, his lips curving up into a smile when Darcy’s face turned an adorable shade of pink.
“If you ask me, it’s about how well he looks in a tool belt.” Connie gave one more slow look, then winked. “I say you’re hired. Have a seat next to me.”
Gage winked back and Darcy rolled her eyes, but not before taking a thorough once-over of her own. Lingering extra-long, he noticed, on his tool belt.
“Unfortunately, Gage isn’t on Belle Mont’s approved list of service providers,” Darcy said, her smile sweet as icing, her gaze dialed to castrate. “And he needs to get going. I’m sure he has a busy day ahead of him.”
“Actually, I cleared my morning for our appointment.”
“What appointment?”
“The one where we talk about me getting on your approved service provider list,” he said, loving how she refused to laugh. Her lips were straining, she was so determined not to give in. “I’ve been trying to sweet talk my way onto that list for quite some time now, with no luck.” He sat at the table, making himself comfortable. “Maybe you ladies can give me some pointers, help me figure out exactly what Darcy’s looking for.”
Connie patted down her hat and hair. “Well, aren’t you determined and diligent. And absolutely delicious.”
Gage winked again—this time at Darcy. “I aim to please.”
“Ladies, would you excuse us?” Darcy asked, walking towards the house and snagging Gage by the elbow on her way. “The dog stays.”
Fancy huffed in defiance, but didn’t dare follow as Darcy led Gage silently through the back door, across the ballroom, not stopping until they were standing in the kitchen.
“Nice place,” he said, taking in the room. It was large and open, the deep sunken farm sink and vintage cooking utensils adding the right amount of charm to the sleek, professional work areas, which could rival some of the top restaurants in Portland.
“Cut the crap, Gage.” She folded her arms, which did amazing things to her blouse. Pulling the material, and tightening the buttons until all it would take was a simple flick of the finger for one to pop. “We didn’t have an appointment, so why are you here?”
He pulled his phone out, swiped to his email, and read, “I am open to discussing the possibilities at your earliest convenience.” He pocketed it.
“I thought you’d email back, not just show up before I could—”
“Make other plans?”
