Chastened, Simone’s cheeks went pink. “Of course.”
I smiled at her. “I’ll see what I can do. Until then, please sit down so we can talk about what flowers you want for your service.”
Chapter
Eight
One week had passed since the Shifter Lord had come into my shop, and I was just starting to calm down after his visit. If he’d recognized me, something would have come of it by now. Even Moira had been as nervous as a cat around tin foil, completely unlike her.
A shout of dismay came from the back. Moira and I glanced at each other in alarm and hurried toward the sound.
Ash stood in front of the flower cooler holding the remains of the metal door—the door usually hinged to keep the cooler closed. He stared at it with dismay.
I cleared my throat. “Ash?”
He jerked and blinked. “Err. Hey. Umm. This is not what it looks like.”
Moira snorted. “So, it’s not you holding the cooler door that you apparently ripped off the hinges like some kind of wooden superhero?”
Ash sighed. “Well. Yes. Then I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.” He gently set the door against the wall with a booming thud. “I’ve been chilling those bonsais for weeks now, and it was time to collect them.” He shook his head. “I got so excited I forgot my own strength.”
I’d forgotten about how strong he was, too. Ash was always so kind and gentle I sometimes forgot he was a male dryad. He had the strength of a mighty oak and the occasional stubbornness to match.
“I’ll replace it,” he said. “Until then, I think I can rig it up to keep the cool air in.” He grimaced. “I hope.”
The tainted wedding bouquet was in there. Allowing it to thaw wasn’t a good idea. “I’ll call some repair places today. Until then, see what you can do.”
The dryad nodded, misery all over his face. I reached out and pulled him in for a hug. “Not your fault. Whenever you think it is, just remember the Great Pothos Debacle of 2023.”
That got a chuckle out of him.
I’d still been learning how to juggle my mixed magic when my Floromancy went wild. Every single pothos I had in the shop grew several feet and tangled everything up in vines. They grew so fast and so long, they’d broken the front door and the main window. We’d taken several thousands of dollars in damages and had to explain to a group of handsome, confused firefighters that we were developing a new fertilizer for the market, but the experiment had gone awry.
Pretty sure they didn’t believe us, but since we hadn’t hurt anyone and damaged nothing except my own property, they helped us sweep up the glass and let us be.
“Moira banned pothos up until this year,” Ash reminisced with a hearty laugh.
“Moira should have banned them forever,” the vampire muttered. “I still get PTSD flashbacks when I walk past one.”
We helped Ash carry out his bonsais before assisting with the replacement of the door. It didn’t seal all the way, but it should be okay until we got a repairman in.
“No one opens this door again without a buddy,” I lectured, making my voice loud enough for Tess to hear.
The banshee’s sad moan of agreement filtered back to us.
I slapped the dust from my hands and headed toward the front, making a mental note to set aside the funds for the repairman.
We stoodaround the phone waiting for it to ring. A lot rode on this call. At first, when Mr. Jeffers started contacting the shop, no one thought anything of it. Every two weeks, he ordered a huge seasonal bouquet for delivery to an address about twenty miles away, far away from the downtown area.
We all, like the emotional saps we were, assumed the flowers were for his wife. Joy Springs was full of paranormals. Few of them were dumb enough to cheat on their wives, simply because the wives were just as deadly as their husbands. There was no way to tell what Mr. Jeffers was—human or paranormal—so we assumed he was a good dude being a great husband.
Oh, how wrong we were.
Moira took the calls at first, and I’d work putting the bouquets together for delivery. Every time, he’d ask for a different message on the card. Most messages were sweet, but over time, things had gotten progressively spicier. Again, no big deal.
But then, a woman came into the shop looking for some flowers for a vow renewal cake. Her last name was Jeffers. One of the big rules in our shop was to never, ever speak about any past orders or deliveries if a spouse came in.
For this exact reason.
