Bouquets and Buckles: An Age Gap, Snowed In, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge)

One Month Later

“You can drop by anytime after ten a.m. tomorrow and collect the arrangement, Ms. Heartford.”

I feel the vibration in my palm, letting me know I have another call incoming. Pulling the phone away from my ear a little, I see Brad flash up on the screen.

That second of recognition is immediately followed by the pout in my heart that it’s not the name I want to see on my phone. I love my best friend with my whole chest, but fuck if I don’t have a whole lot of emotional baggage ready to tumble out of the closet after what happened between me and Luke.

His father.

The cowboy I fell in love with. Agonizingly so.

“Perfect, see you then.” I drag my brain back to the job at hand before wrapping up the call. Taking a big, grounding breath, I hit the missed call notification, redialing the younger of the two Rhodes men.

Brad picks up immediately.

“What are you up to tonight?” He sounds like he’s got a mouthful of food.

“I’ve got a hot date.” I pin my phone against my ear with my shoulder and use both hands to start fussing with the gorgeous bouquet being picked up any minute now. A guy called in earlier to order these flowers, all sweaty palms and nerves, because he’s proposing to his girlfriend tonight. It was very sweet, and he asked me what I thought about every detail he’s got planned for the special moment. Based on how much thought and planning he’s put into this, I told him she’ll be swept off her feet.

“A date? You do?” Brad sounds stunned.

“Don’t be so shocked down to your cute lil’ bisexual booties.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

That makes me frown. “Since when did I have to report my every single move to you, hmm?”

“Sky…” He scolds.

“What? I do. It’s this very sexy evening I’ve got going on. It’s called being a small business owner who has to be responsible and do her taxes.” I tug on a length of ribbon from the holder, snipping it off, and begin to tie a bow around the gathered stems.

“So, not an actual date?”

“It’s as close as I’ll get, B.” I laugh at how dismally boring my life is. Not bitter about it, at all. “Super romantic, though. Between my laptop… my spreadsheet… a bit of wine, throw in some cheese, put on a facemask, it’s a whole thing.”

“Well, let me come crash your incredibly lame night, and I can try help, or at the very least I’ll do facemasks with you and feed you ice cream.”

“Salted Caramel?”

“I’ve got a pint of that and chocolate fudge. Didn’t know what your broken heart would be in the mood for.”

I pause. Licking my lips as I try to figure out how to respond.

“You know I’m long over Jeremy. You don’t have to mother-hen me. I’m honestly fine.” Sweeping my palm across the workbench, I gather up the scattered off-cuts of stems from the arrangement and toss them in the trash.

After the scene I discovered on Christmas Eve, I cut all contact and blocked his ass everywhere. He can enjoy whoever his kitchen blow-job-blondey is. I’ll gladly never see the prick ever again.

“I’m not talking about wank face Jeremy.”

My stomach drops.

“I’m talking about whatever jerk you hooked up with on New Year’s and have been moping around about ever since.”

“I didn’t—”

“Look. I’m gonna be on your front porch at six. So you can try to wriggle out of telling me everything then, but spoiler alert, I’m gonna get it out of you.”

The door to my shop opens, with the nervous fiancé-to-be arriving right on time to collect his flowers.

“I gotta go, B.”

“Facemasks and spilling your guts start at six.”

“You suck,” I hiss.

“I do. Very well, might I add. Just ask Flinn how good my sucking is.”

I hang up on his hysterical laughter and flash a bright smile while holding out the perfect bouquet to symbolize love.

Meanwhile, my heart aches for the loss of my own.