Page 15 of The Knotheads Next Door
I startle, turning to find a woman watching me from behind a workbench covered in stems and ribbon. She's tall, with tanned skin and close-cropped silver hair, wearing a denim apron splattered with water. Her expression is direct but not unfriendly.
"That obvious, huh?" I ask.
"Small town," she says with a shrug. "I know everyone who likes flowers, and I haven't seen you before." She extends a hand. "Crystal Watson. This is my shop."
"Rowan Whitley," I say, shaking her hand. Her grip is firm, calloused from work. "I just moved here yesterday. From Heraford."
"Heraford to Vineyard Groves," she muses, looking me over with shrewd eyes. "That's quite a change. Running to something or from something?"
I blink, caught off guard by her directness. "I... needed a fresh start."
She nods like this is a perfectly reasonable answer. "Most people do, one way or another."
She gestures to the flowers around us. "See anything you like?"
"All of it," I admit. "I had a window box at my old apartment. Geraniums. They were the only thing I managed to keep alive longer than a month."
"Resilient plants, geraniums," Crystal says, turning back to her arrangement. "Hard to kill, even when neglected."
I get the distinct impression we're not just talking about plants anymore.
"I'm actually looking for a job," I say, deciding to be direct. "I'm an accountant by training, but I'm pretty much open to anything at this point."
Crystal's hands don't pause as she weaves greenery through a frame. "Accountant, huh? Good with numbers?"
"Very good," I nod. "And organized. And I learn fast."
"Hmm." She sets down her clippers, studying me with an intensity that makes me want to check if I have something on my face. "As it happens, I could use an extra pair of hands around here. My usual weekend help just left for college, and the holiday season's coming up. It's not full-time, and it's not accounting, but..."
My heart leaps. "I'll take it," I say quickly, then try to dial back my obvious desperation. "I mean, I'd be very interested in discussing the opportunity further."
A hint of amusement crosses Crystal's face. "You don't even know what it pays yet."
"It pays?" I quip. "I'm sold."
The bell over the door jingles again, and Crystal's expression shifts to something like resigned affection. "Brace yourself," she mutters. "The Welcome Committee has arrived."
Before I can ask what she means, three women burst into the shop in a flurry of conversation and laughter. They stop abruptly when they spot me, like a sitcom freeze-frame.
"New person!" exclaims the woman. She's wearing a flour-dusted apron and has her dark box braids piled on top of her head in a messy bun, curls escaping everywhere. She bounces forward, hand outstretched. "I'm Lala. I own the bakery next door. Are you visiting? Moving here? Just passing through? Do you like pastries? Silly question, everyone likes pastries."
I shake her hand, slightly dazed by the barrage of questions. "Rowan. Just moved here yesterday. And yes to pastries, always."
"I knew it!" she says triumphantly, turning to her companions. "Didn't I say we'd have a new resident soon? The universe told me."
"The universe, or the fact that you eavesdropped on Theo at the clinic yesterday when he was talking about their new roommate?" says the tallest of the three, a woman with a chicpixie cut and beautiful dark brown skin. She offers me a more restrained smile. "I'm Avianna. I run the bookstore attached to Lala's bakery. She's Morsels, I'm Musings. Don't mind her, she thinks she's psychic."
"I don't think, I know," Lala corrects, then stage-whispers to me, "I predicted the last three couples in town getting together. It's my gift."
The third woman steps forward, offering a shy smile. She's the shortest of the three, softer around the edges, with wide eyes and a gentle demeanor that immediately makes me thinkbeta. "I'm Billie," she says. "I work at the daycare over at The Lake Resort. You must be the new roommate at Jasper's place?"
Word travels fast in Small Town, USA.
"That's me," I confirm, wondering just how much they already know. "The unwitting fourth wheel."
"Oh, those boys needed some feminine energy in that house," Lala declares. "It's all hammers and spreadsheets and sports channels over there. Tragic waste of alpha potential."
Avianna rolls her eyes. "You'll have to excuse Lala. She thinks everyone in town is one blind date away from true love."
