dropping them, they’d have to hang out the window for the short drive to his apartment.
Abby glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. “Uh-oh, I’m late! Not exactly the best way to make an impression.” She walked him toward the door in a rush. “Sorry, I have to close up.”
“Another blind date?”
“No. Something much more important. A wedding.”
Huh, what? He jerked to attention and she rushed to gather flowers into a box. Oh, of course—a wedding delivery. He stood outside the window, watching for a second, until one of the pots slipped from his hip. He grabbed hold, trying not to let it spill as it clunked to the pavement.
“Carter, you busy this afternoon?” Abby stood in the doorway, her black hair hanging in wisps over her eyes.
“Just getting my plants settled into their new home. Why?”
“Want to help me load this stuff into the van?” She tossed her head toward the box she’d filled.
He scooped up the dirt he’d spilled on the sidewalk, dropped it back into the pot, and wiped his hands. Going to a wedding was about the last thing he wanted to do—outside of visiting a dentist. But he guessed he could help load the truck. “Sure. No problem.”
Abby grabbed one of the plants. “I’ll drop you off on the way to my delivery so you won’t have to carry these.”
An hour later, Carter frowned at the white tablecloths and twinkling crystal above them. How he’d allowed her to talk him into helping her load
and
unload the flowers was a mystery. She’d been describing the place to him, talking nonstop about how exciting it was, and telling him it was her first wedding since the opening.
Then his mouth got ahead of his brain, and perhaps the stupidest thing ever leapt off his lips. “Why don’t I go with you and help you get set up just to make sure it goes smoothly?”
Once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back. He wanted to, but it was too late. She’d busied herself securing the plants, boxes, and ribbon before closing up the truck. When the door clanged shut and she turned, he considered a quick escape. He assumed she’d say no. She hadn’t, and somehow it wasn’t the least bit awkward.
That, in itself, was confusing.
“It’s just a wedding, not a funeral. Don’t start hyperventilating.” The scrape of cardboard on the truck bed brought his attention back to the present, as she hefted the box of flowers and handed it to him.
He blinked. “I wasn’t.”
“Your face is as white as those lilies. You can leave if this weirds you out. I can manage on my own—it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
The comment slapped him back to reality. What was it about these things that made most guys run for the hills? He shrugged. The permanency, of course. In his experience, permanent never worked. No more than trusting—he’d tried that with Amanda—another one of Roger’s stupid ideas.
You need to get past what happened to your sister and trust people. Accidents happen. It’s not like Carley intended to deceive everyone.
Yeah, right. That’s exactly what she intended. And apparently Amanda too. The woman in front of him now wasn’t asking for his trust or permanency. She was simply asking for a little help. That was easy enough.
“Unless you want to drive me back, I might as well help. I’m already here and if it bothered me, I wouldn’t have volunteered. You do a lot of weddings at this place?”
He glanced around the room. They were in the alcove of a historical landmark, a building that had once housed the elite socialites of Galveston. Presently, it was a museum by day, open for tourists, and available for parties after hours. An unusual but attractive site with flowers and ribbon trailed throughout.
When he turned back to Abby, she shook her head. “This is just the reception hall. The wedding is at the Catholic church, a very formal affair. We’ll go there next and deliver the bouquets, corsages, and flowers for the vestibule. Can
Abby glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. “Uh-oh, I’m late! Not exactly the best way to make an impression.” She walked him toward the door in a rush. “Sorry, I have to close up.”
“Another blind date?”
“No. Something much more important. A wedding.”
Huh, what? He jerked to attention and she rushed to gather flowers into a box. Oh, of course—a wedding delivery. He stood outside the window, watching for a second, until one of the pots slipped from his hip. He grabbed hold, trying not to let it spill as it clunked to the pavement.
“Carter, you busy this afternoon?” Abby stood in the doorway, her black hair hanging in wisps over her eyes.
“Just getting my plants settled into their new home. Why?”
“Want to help me load this stuff into the van?” She tossed her head toward the box she’d filled.
He scooped up the dirt he’d spilled on the sidewalk, dropped it back into the pot, and wiped his hands. Going to a wedding was about the last thing he wanted to do—outside of visiting a dentist. But he guessed he could help load the truck. “Sure. No problem.”
Abby grabbed one of the plants. “I’ll drop you off on the way to my delivery so you won’t have to carry these.”
An hour later, Carter frowned at the white tablecloths and twinkling crystal above them. How he’d allowed her to talk him into helping her load
and
unload the flowers was a mystery. She’d been describing the place to him, talking nonstop about how exciting it was, and telling him it was her first wedding since the opening.
Then his mouth got ahead of his brain, and perhaps the stupidest thing ever leapt off his lips. “Why don’t I go with you and help you get set up just to make sure it goes smoothly?”
Once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back. He wanted to, but it was too late. She’d busied herself securing the plants, boxes, and ribbon before closing up the truck. When the door clanged shut and she turned, he considered a quick escape. He assumed she’d say no. She hadn’t, and somehow it wasn’t the least bit awkward.
That, in itself, was confusing.
“It’s just a wedding, not a funeral. Don’t start hyperventilating.” The scrape of cardboard on the truck bed brought his attention back to the present, as she hefted the box of flowers and handed it to him.
He blinked. “I wasn’t.”
“Your face is as white as those lilies. You can leave if this weirds you out. I can manage on my own—it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
The comment slapped him back to reality. What was it about these things that made most guys run for the hills? He shrugged. The permanency, of course. In his experience, permanent never worked. No more than trusting—he’d tried that with Amanda—another one of Roger’s stupid ideas.
You need to get past what happened to your sister and trust people. Accidents happen. It’s not like Carley intended to deceive everyone.
Yeah, right. That’s exactly what she intended. And apparently Amanda too. The woman in front of him now wasn’t asking for his trust or permanency. She was simply asking for a little help. That was easy enough.
“Unless you want to drive me back, I might as well help. I’m already here and if it bothered me, I wouldn’t have volunteered. You do a lot of weddings at this place?”
He glanced around the room. They were in the alcove of a historical landmark, a building that had once housed the elite socialites of Galveston. Presently, it was a museum by day, open for tourists, and available for parties after hours. An unusual but attractive site with flowers and ribbon trailed throughout.
When he turned back to Abby, she shook her head. “This is just the reception hall. The wedding is at the Catholic church, a very formal affair. We’ll go there next and deliver the bouquets, corsages, and flowers for the vestibule. Can