Page 58 of Chasing Wildflowers
“What?” I ask, eyes narrowing in confusion.
The corners of her mouth lift, a pleased smile spreading across her face.“You’re happy.”
I give her a puzzled look. “And I wasn’t before?”
She pulls into the bar’s pothole filled lot, parking in the closest spot, and puts her car in park. “You were happy and content. Now you are happy and excited.” She turns in her seat to look at me fully. “He’s good for you. I’m glad you found him.”
She’s right. I’ve never felt this type of happiness before, at least not since my dad died. Another smile spreads across my face. “Me too. Night, thanks for the ride.”
“Night, you’re welcome,” she calls as I get out, shutting the door behind me with a sharp thud.
My head bops along with the catchy country song someone put on as I finish filling the beer cooler, setting myself up for a busy night ahead. The band is due to start in half an hour and once they do I won’t have a second to breathe, let alone stock more beer.
The door creeks open, letting in the last of the setting sun, bathing the dimly lit bar in a soft glow, before closing with a soft click. I see the bouquet of flowers before I see the man carrying them. He’s wearing a familiar dark blue uniform, but I don’t recognize him. Odd. I thought I had met all of Tina’s delivery guys, thanks to Jameson.
He sets the flowers on the bartop and gives me a charming smile. “Delivery for Lane Maddox.”
I smile lovingly at the flowers. “That’s me.” It doesn’t matter how many times Jameson sends me flowers, it always brightens my day and brings a smile to my face.
When I look up, the delivery man is staring at me, his eyes narrowed slightly, like he’s assessing me.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I have to force myself not to take a step back.
His lips pull into a smile, but something about it is off, nothing like the smile he gave me when he first walked in. “Have a nice day, ma’am.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, but the prickle of warning remains.
Out of the corner of my eyes I notice a card sticking out of the flowers. My brows knit as I reach over and pluck it out. That’s weird, he never sends a card.
I’ll see you soon.
I sigh—out loud. A couple of heads turn to look at me but I don’t care. Kam was right when she said I’m happy in a way I never have been before.
I grab my phone from beneath the counter and send Jameson a text thanking him for the flowers. I haven’t heard from him since he left in a rush this morning, which isn’t normal for him. I push that thought away and shove my phone into my back pocket. I don’t want to be the girlfriend who needs to hear from her boyfriend constantly.
The door creaks open again, and a group of people shuffle in, their lively chatter carrying over the soft twang of music flowing through the bar.
Behind them, Hank hobbles in. He looks around the bar, grumbles something about ‘insufferable youth taking his seat’, before finally sliding onto a stool in front of me, the worn leather creaking beneath him.
I press my lips together to hold in my laugh as I reach for a pint glass. “Isn’t it a little late for you?” I ask, pulling on the PBR tap, which sticks, as usual.
He grunts, shrugging off his flannel jacket. “Martha wouldn’t let me leave until I helped her put up Halloween decorations.” He folds his arms, eyes fixed on the beer as I slide it across the counter. “It’s not even October yet,” he grumbles, wrapping his hand around the glass and bringing it to his lips.
Betsy, who I hadn’t noticed coming in, slides onto the stool beside Hank. He mutters what sounds like ‘just wanting to enjoy his beer’ before getting up to move further down the bar.
Betsy’s eyes follow him. “Is he always so grumpy?” she asks, her attention landing back on me.
I shrug and grab a glass, the ice clinging against the glass as I fill it. “Martha made him put up decorations today, so he missed his early afternoon beers with his buddies.”
I hear her chuckle behind me as I pour vodka in her glass, topping off with a slash of orange juice, just the way she likes it. When I turn, drink in hand, her eyes are fixed on the bouquet of wildflowers still sitting on the bartop.
I slide her drink across the smooth bar, the glass scraping softly against the aged wood. Her eyes find mine, a bright smile on her lips. “That man is keeping Tina in business with all of the flowers he orders.”
I smile, but something about flowers sparks a kernel of warning deep inside of me. “Did she hire someone new to do deliveries?”
She grabs her drink, pulling it closer. “No, she still has the same people.” She brings the glass to her mouth but pauses, her brows pulling together. “Why?”
That kernel of warning flares brighter, but I push it down. I’m just being paranoid. “I just thought I had met all of the delivery drivers.”
Her lips tilt up in a mischievous smile. “Kam told me about his piercing.”
