A Savannah Christmas Wish

“Jimmy just graduated.” She’d helped the kid get his feet on the ground. “Your son’s not ready to take on all the landscaping.”

Cade’s lips flattened into straight lines. “This is the way it has to be.”

“I can drum up more business. If you advertise, we’d attract more customers.” The words shot out of her mouth like BBs from a pellet gun.

He shook his head. Cade was brilliant with retail plants and flowers but hated marketing. “Between two years of droughts and the cold, wet spring, I can’t afford you.”

She couldn’t lose her job. “What about our arrangement on my flower-design business?” she whispered.

“I hope you’ll keep getting your flowers through me.” Cade pulled on his white hair. “You can still use the workroom and coolers.”

She paced in the hallway, fighting back the urge to tell Cade to shove it. Being impulsive had gotten her into too much trouble in her life.

“Do you—” her voice cracked “—want me to clean out my stuff?”

“I can give you two weeks.” Cade pushed out of his chair. It groaned as he stood. “How would that be?”

Two weeks. “I guess.”

This job had been perfect for her. She’d been able to juggle her hours at the B and B with her hours at King’s Gardens. Cade had also let her run her wedding-flower business from his shop. How would she find another boss so flexible?

Two more weeks of a job she loved. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Let me help with the marketing.”

He let out a big exhale. “I’m sorry.”

This always happened to her. If she loved something, it was wrenched from her hands. She knew better than to fall for people or things.

How many examples did she need? She’d lost Papa first. Then her just-remodeled bedroom was the first room used for the B and B. And of course there’d been Daniel. At seventeen she’d loved him as only a teenager could. She gulped. He’d rejected her. Following that disaster had been her ex-boyfriend and their business. Now this job.

Driving home, she chewed her thumbnail. She’d been fired. Fired. On autopilot, she parked behind her building and grabbed the mail on the way to her third-floor apartment.

Tossing envelopes and catalogs on the table, she stripped. Her clothes hit the overflowing pile in her closet. After a quick shower, she threw on shorts and a tank top.

What would she do now? She ripped a hand through her wet hair. With slumped shoulders, she filled her sprayer and moved around the apartment, spritzing her orchids.

The dendrobium orchids were opening. Maybe she’d work the snow-white flowers into a table arrangement for Mamma’s wedding. If her Black Caesar cattleya would bloom, she’d add the ruffled rich fuchsia blossoms to her mother’s wedding flowers.

Grabbing the mail, she flopped onto the chaise on her tiny balcony and stared at the ripening tomatoes. She could eat one or two for dinner. But she didn’t move.

Voices and laughter carried from the street. How could people be happy?

The doorbell buzzed. Bess forced herself to the door and peered through the peephole.

Daniel? She pressed a hand to her stomach. She hated that her tummy flopped every time she saw him.

She opened the door. “Collecting rent in person?”

He shook his head. “Got a minute?”

She nodded, not opening the door any farther.

He rolled his eyes.

Back when she was a stupid teenager, his deep brown eyes had filled her dreams. She used to scribble his name all over her notebook and practiced writing Bess Forester.

“Will you let me in?” Irritation filled his voice.

She huffed out a sigh, opening the door. He walked by and she caught a whiff of his sandalwood scent. Her stomach clenched. He’d worn the same cologne ten years ago.

“Want something to drink?” She tugged on her tank top, wishing she wasn’t wearing her oldest and rattiest clothes. “I might have a couple of beers.”

Daniel rubbed his head, as if he had to think about this.

“If we have a beer together, I’m not going to rip off your clothes.” That had taken her a lot more beers ten years ago.

He frowned, as though he could hear her thoughts. “I guess a beer would be okay.”

She pointed to her balcony. “Grab a chair.”

“I don’t know how you live in this jungle.” Daniel waved a hand at her lush flowers and plants. “Are you sure they won’t attack?”

“They might.” And if there was justice in the world, they’d attack him. Unfortunately, ten years too late. “If I were you, I wouldn’t sit too close.”

He raised a blond eyebrow but headed outside.

On the way to the kitchen, she swept up the newspaper spread over the coffee table and shoved it into the recycling bin. The place wasn’t filthy. She rubbed her neck. It was sloppy, just like her outfit.

Who cared? This was Daniel. The only time he’d been attracted to her was when he’d been drunk.

Since that night ten years ago, she’d never seen him drunk. Never seen him lose control. Who could live that way?

She popped the caps off two beers and took a deep swallow of liquid courage.

Why was he here? For ten years they’d made avoiding each other an art form. As close as their families were, if she knew Daniel was going to be around, she kept her distance. Up until that night ten years ago, she’d followed him around as if she were a drooling puppy. Her face flamed. Her crush had been painful. When he’d worked with his father at Fitzgerald House, she’d used any excuse to hang around him.

He’d just thought she was a kid.

The bottles clanked as she headed to her balcony.

His long legs filled her lounge chair.

He took the beer. “Southbound. My favorite.”

Of course it was his favorite. Now she’d have to find another brand.

“Cheers.” He raised his bottle.

She didn’t clink her bottle with his. Taking a gulp, she smacked the bottle down on the glass table sitting between their chairs. “What do you want?”