His confusion was audible. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, you see, the deliveries are an unwanted advance by a gentleman whom I’ve told multiple times that I’m not interested. Yet, he continues to send them, and I feel that I’m giving him the wrong idea by continuing to accept them. I asked the delivery driver to take them back, but I can appreciate that he’s onlydoing his job. So, I was really hoping I might be able to have you block any future attempts by this man to send me flowers.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
“You’re saying you want us to refuse service to the customer paying to send you flowers?”
“Yes.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
Jeff heaved a heavy sigh. “This is a mom-and-pop operation; my parents worked hard to build this business from the ground up. As much as I’d like to help you, we can’t afford to be turning away paying customers. Can’t you just look at the pretty flowers like a normal girl?”
I gritted my teeth, biting back a snarky retort that would likely get me nowhere. He had no idea how not “normal” I was.
Okay, it was time to try a new tactic.
“I understand. How about this? You give me the billing address of the sender, and I’ll pop on over to his place and let him know to stop. This way, you will remain his preferred florist in the future.”
“Ma’am. I can’t divulge that information.”
Time to pull out the big guns—literally. “Jeff, I’m gonna shoot you straight. This man is harassing me at my home with these flower deliveries. If you can’t tell me where I can find him to settle this for myself, I will be forced to contact the authorities. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to put a stop to this.”
Jeff’s voice came out strangled. “Let’s slow down a minute. There’s no need to involve the cops. I can help you. What’s the name?”
A pleased smirk curved on my lips. “Thank you, Jeff. I knew I could count on you. My name is Gemma Bellini.”
There was a shuffling of papers in the background. “Ah. I’ve got it right here. Three deliveries, correct?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “All from the same sender.”
“Let’s see.” Jeff hummed. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“What?”
“The billing address is Speed Arena.”
I paused, trying to work out what he was saying. “I’m sorry, what is—”
“Holy shit! Goose is sending you flowers?”
Who names their child Goose? What’s his brother’s name? Maverick?
Come to think of it, he did bear a resemblance to the cocky flyboy in the sequel.
No. Focus, Gemma!
“No, that can’t be right,” I countered. “He said his name was Sasha.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s Goose.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry, but you’re not making any sense.”
“Sasha Gusev, goalie for the Indy Speed. Everyone calls him Goose. That’s the name on these invoices. The billing address is the arena where they play.”
“Play what?”
“Seriously? Do you live under a rock?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m new in town. Can you please answer my question?”
