you grab the other box too? I’ll get the door.”
“It must get old after a while.” He moved away and let her latch the door behind.
“What? Weddings?”
“The smell. You spend all day around all these and probably get tired of it. I always thought that was why girls liked flowers—because of the scent. It covered up all the ugly smells.”
She grinned. “Well, that’s definitely a plus but no, ah, you obviously haven’t bought many of them, have you?”
Carter plunked the box on a table and began distributing the candleholders to tables. Should he tell her he’d seen enough flowers for a lifetime at family funerals? “Only when I had to.”
“Flowers, candles, scented oil, room fragrances—they’re all an aphrodisiac. They set the mood.”
He liked the sound of
that.
“Mood for what exactly?”
She avoided eye contact. “Whatever. Dinner, asking for a date, going beyond the date—”
“To?”
“To whatever. A guy can’t go wrong with flowers.”
A deliveryman from the food caterer strode up and asked where to put his cargo. Abby pointed toward a door, stating to check there for the family. The creak of his dolly wheels across the tile broke the silence.
“Don’t you notice the smell of a room or a person?” She quirked a brow as she placed the last flowers, with an ornate candelabra, at the main table. Actually, he
did
notice. He’d noticed her scent the minute she ran past him ages ago but never thought about it until now. Flowers, however, weren’t the same.
He shook his head, not ready to make that admission. “Unless there’s food involved, nope. Now, if you filled this room with
eau de barbecue
or maybe
la scent de steak
, you’d have me in a second. My heart would be full.”
Abby threw a stem she’d cut from the arrangement at him and gathered the boxes. “No wonder you’re single.”
“What? That’s not romantic?”
“Not even close. Next thing you’re going to tell me is your favorite smell is sweaty gym clothes after a workout.”
“Nope. After a weekend baseball game. That’s the best.” He took the boxes and stacked them in her truck while she fumbled for the keys. With them in hand, she tapped against his chest.
“Maybe you should try flowers with the next girl and see if it lasts longer.”
He rubbed the spot she’d thumped. “Ouch.” On a whim, he grabbed the hand with the keys inside and pulled her to him. He ran his cheek along her neck and sniffed. “You’re assuming I want it to last long. Maybe I should test your theory and see what you smell like. See if … ”
It wasn’t the smell that caught him off guard. Nor was it the closeness. With his cheek against hers, the first thing he noticed was how soft she was. Amanda had been all woman, but she’d been so concerned with makeup and hair she often felt … starched. Abby’s hair was soft and wispy against his cheek, suggesting silk against his roughness. It rendered him unable to speak or move.
She stepped back and he lost his balance for a second then righted himself. The look in her eyes was mostly alarm. But there was something else. Maybe a little—
fire?
He straightened his shoulders and grinned. “Nope,
nada
. You smell like dirt.”
“And you smell like deodorant with a little sweaty gym socks thrown in.” She strode to the driver’s seat and hopped in the truck, waiting on him to get in the other side.
When he did, he threw his arm across the back of the well-worn seat and let his fingers rest against her shoulder. “See, you like it. It’s sexy, right?”
“Seriously?”
“Come on. Girls love tough men and tough men don’t smell like flowers.”
“Are you telling me you’re a tough guy? Here? Delivering flowers with me? Shouldn’t you be at a boxing match or at the gym? Besides, maybe guys aren’t that into flowers—but has the deodorant thing worked for you so far? I doubt it. It never hurts to add some cologne and send flowers or gifts. Maybe you should
“It must get old after a while.” He moved away and let her latch the door behind.
“What? Weddings?”
“The smell. You spend all day around all these and probably get tired of it. I always thought that was why girls liked flowers—because of the scent. It covered up all the ugly smells.”
She grinned. “Well, that’s definitely a plus but no, ah, you obviously haven’t bought many of them, have you?”
Carter plunked the box on a table and began distributing the candleholders to tables. Should he tell her he’d seen enough flowers for a lifetime at family funerals? “Only when I had to.”
“Flowers, candles, scented oil, room fragrances—they’re all an aphrodisiac. They set the mood.”
He liked the sound of
that.
“Mood for what exactly?”
She avoided eye contact. “Whatever. Dinner, asking for a date, going beyond the date—”
“To?”
“To whatever. A guy can’t go wrong with flowers.”
A deliveryman from the food caterer strode up and asked where to put his cargo. Abby pointed toward a door, stating to check there for the family. The creak of his dolly wheels across the tile broke the silence.
“Don’t you notice the smell of a room or a person?” She quirked a brow as she placed the last flowers, with an ornate candelabra, at the main table. Actually, he
did
notice. He’d noticed her scent the minute she ran past him ages ago but never thought about it until now. Flowers, however, weren’t the same.
He shook his head, not ready to make that admission. “Unless there’s food involved, nope. Now, if you filled this room with
eau de barbecue
or maybe
la scent de steak
, you’d have me in a second. My heart would be full.”
Abby threw a stem she’d cut from the arrangement at him and gathered the boxes. “No wonder you’re single.”
“What? That’s not romantic?”
“Not even close. Next thing you’re going to tell me is your favorite smell is sweaty gym clothes after a workout.”
“Nope. After a weekend baseball game. That’s the best.” He took the boxes and stacked them in her truck while she fumbled for the keys. With them in hand, she tapped against his chest.
“Maybe you should try flowers with the next girl and see if it lasts longer.”
He rubbed the spot she’d thumped. “Ouch.” On a whim, he grabbed the hand with the keys inside and pulled her to him. He ran his cheek along her neck and sniffed. “You’re assuming I want it to last long. Maybe I should test your theory and see what you smell like. See if … ”
It wasn’t the smell that caught him off guard. Nor was it the closeness. With his cheek against hers, the first thing he noticed was how soft she was. Amanda had been all woman, but she’d been so concerned with makeup and hair she often felt … starched. Abby’s hair was soft and wispy against his cheek, suggesting silk against his roughness. It rendered him unable to speak or move.
She stepped back and he lost his balance for a second then righted himself. The look in her eyes was mostly alarm. But there was something else. Maybe a little—
fire?
He straightened his shoulders and grinned. “Nope,
nada
. You smell like dirt.”
“And you smell like deodorant with a little sweaty gym socks thrown in.” She strode to the driver’s seat and hopped in the truck, waiting on him to get in the other side.
When he did, he threw his arm across the back of the well-worn seat and let his fingers rest against her shoulder. “See, you like it. It’s sexy, right?”
“Seriously?”
“Come on. Girls love tough men and tough men don’t smell like flowers.”
“Are you telling me you’re a tough guy? Here? Delivering flowers with me? Shouldn’t you be at a boxing match or at the gym? Besides, maybe guys aren’t that into flowers—but has the deodorant thing worked for you so far? I doubt it. It never hurts to add some cologne and send flowers or gifts. Maybe you should
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