Snowdrop Kisses Part Ten
A Christmas love story featuring a plucky florist and a tall dark and handsome entrepreneur
Previously… in Part 9 James and Wendy arrive at the greenhouse with Catriona and Isaiah.
Chapter 19
“Crofton! What are you doing here?” Wendy blurted. Damn, that came out wrong.
He glowered, once again looking like the angry stranger who burst into her store last week. “Sorry if my presence bothers you.” Crofton stared at Isaiah, who still had an arm around Wendy. “I’m making sure that everything goes smoothly for the party.”
Wendy couldn’t help her defensive response. “Are you implying I’m not up to this job?”
“Not at all. I’m just here to keep an eye on things.”
Since hiring her, he had never expressed a single worry about her skills. Catriona must have said something to make him question her competence. Anger boiled in her veins, but Wendy kept her voice cool. “Please, tell me what your concerns are.” Her eyes spat fire, and Crofton glared back.
Catriona cut in before he had a chance to reply. “Let’s not waste time chit-chatting, people. It’s cold and there’s a party that requires everyone’s full attention.” She grabbed Crofton’s arm, tugging him towards the building.
Wendy blinked at their retreating backs, destabilized by the adrenaline pumping through her system.
Isaiah looked down at her with concern. “Everything OK? That was intense.”
Wendy managed a shaky laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Crofton and I are usually like that.” She and Isaiah followed the other two inside.
Catriona stood in the office, arms crossed. “So, where are these flowers?” She looked around, as if expecting tulips to burst forth from soil-encrusted desk drawers.
“In here.” Isaiah grabbed a large metal handle along the back wall and pulled. The entire wall slid open, revealing a long, deep greenhouse. Warm air engulfed them as they stared at a dense emerald jungle of tropical blossoms and vegetation filling the space.
Wendy took a deep breath. There it was, the clean smell of plants, a mixture of greenery and rich, moist earth, which never failed to clear her mind. She’d fallen in love with growing plants at her first job — a summer spent working at a greenhouse in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley. The smell always brought back memories of home. She turned to Crofton, who gaped at the sight.
“I would never have guessed that this was here.”
He was so unguarded in his astonishment that she forgave him for his earlier snide tone. “What do you think? Maybe I actually know what I’m doing.”
He closed his mouth and looked down at her. “I never questioned your ability to surprise me, Wendy.”
Something in his gaze sent a small shiver racing up her spine.
Catriona interrupted: “James, darling, come over here!” She was walking with Isaiah, waving at a pot of red anemones.
Following “James darling,” Wendy trailed behind the others. Isaiah explained his method of propagating orchids and Catriona stepped closer to hear him. She tottered on her spike heels, losing her balance on the uneven floor.
Isaiah’s meaty arms shot out, and he caught her before she fell. “Whoah, babe. You were going to face-plant.”
She glared at him, and turned to Crofton. “Do you mind if I borrow your arm? These floors are a hazard.”
For the rest of the tour, Catriona clung to Crofton like a persistent strand of Virginia Creeper, impossible to weed out. She laughed at everything he said, touched him whenever possible, and seemed to enjoy bending down to give him clear views of her pilates-toned rear end.
To make it worse, Crofton was completely at ease with Catriona. Their playful banter was the opposite of the strained and confrontational conversations that he and Wendy often fell into.
Pulling herself from whatever anxiety spiral that was, Wendy concentrated on the reason they were there. Isaiah explained the facilities. This greenhouse, close to downtown, held his tropical plants and succulents, but his real business was half an hour away on a ten acre flower farm. There he specialized in growing ranunculus, snap dragons and other blossoms that didn’t mind some cold months in the winter.
“I’m trying to get off grid,” he explained. “We’re increasing our solar power and doing a lot with grey water.”
“All Isaiah’s blooms are certified organic,” Wendy chimed in. She was eager to win over Catriona and Crofton, who both looked dubious.
“You seem to know an awful lot about his business.” Crofton remarked. His tone was weird, almost resentful.
“We’ve known each other for years,” she explained. “Isaiah was one of the first people I met when I moved here from Nova Scotia.” She smiled gratefully at him. “Anyway, I was thinking white and cream bouquets.” Wendy turned to Isaiah. “We can do a winter wonderland theme, but nothing too overblown. Less Elsa’s ice palace and more lowkey Narnia.”
Catriona frowned and Wendy regretted her fanciful description, but Isaiah was on her wavelength. “Yes, we could do some nice ranunculus, maybe bring in some hydrangea and I’ve got some gorgeous ivy…”
“Those sound a little weedy,” Catriona interrupted. “We want something lavish and confident. Vibrant roses, strong, tall white lilies. Gold and silver bows.”
“I don’t work with roses,” Isaiah said flatly.
“You’re a flower grower and wholesaler,” Catriona snapped. “Of course you do roses. They are literally the most popular flower.”
Wendy’s heart sank. She had heard Isaiah’s rants about roses on more than one occasion and knew what was coming.
The big man drew a breath and launched in. “Their environmental impact is too damaging. They use up too much water, the fumigation of the plants poisons local wildlife, they require intense refrigeration and that’s not even counting the climate cost of flying them all over the world.”
Catriona put her hands on her hips. “Well, I want roses for this party.”
“Roses are the Deepwater Horizon oil spill of flowers. No…” Isaiah continued, glowering. “They are the Chernobyl.”
“We have to have roses. James is classy, sedate and subdued. The flowers for his party should reflect his style.”
Crofton coughed. “Catriona, I’m a cutting-edge software developer. I’m not ‘sedate.’ “ He stared at Isaiah, taking in his green hair and tattoos. “What else have you got in mind, Wendy?”
She smiled, delighted that he could see her vision. Catriona’s nostrils flared unbecomingly, but she didn’t say anything further and the discussions continued.
Eventually they were back in the office, winding up the visit. Isaiah was jotting down notes when a faint beeping could be heard from outside.
They looked at one another until realization dawned in Catriona’s eyes. “My car! That’s my car alarm!” she rushed to the door. “Someone must be stealing it.”
They raced to the door and looked out in time to see two young boys running down the street, clutching a soccer ball. All of the lights on the BMW were flashing and an ear-splitting beeping emitted from the car’s hood.
“Thank God it’s safe.” Catriona dashed to the vehicle and ran her hand along its body, seemingly oblivious to the noise.
“Those kids must have been kicking the ball around and hit the car,” yelled Isaiah, who had followed with Crofton and Wendy.
“Any damage?” Crofton hollered the question.
“It’s fine. Lucky for them.” Catriona fumbled in her purse for her keys and hit the alarm button on the fob. The angry beeping continued to split the air. “It’s not working.” Her voice was panicked.
Wendy noticed Isaiah slip back inside.
“Try putting the key in the ignition, usually that shuts it off.” Crofton said.
The noise continued, even as Catriona twisted the key in its place.“What am I going to do?”
As if in answer, Isaiah appeared, carrying a red toolbox. He pulled out a large wrench and approached the hood.
Catriona leapt from the car and threw herself in front of the vehicle, spreading her arms wide. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to end that noise.”
“This is a finely tuned automotive machine, not some old pickup. There’s a delicate computing system in there and all sorts of complicated things.” Catriona was now standing toe to toe with the much larger man. Her chest heaved in anger and she looked furious.
Wendy was bummed to notice that even Isaiah, who seemed so annoyed with Catriona during the tour, couldn’t help stealing an appreciative glance at that heaving bosom.
“Listen, lady, I’m not going to touch your delicate computing system, I’m going to find the stupid alarm and I’m going to bash it with this wrench until that noise stops.”
Catriona looked horrified. “No tattooed Jolly Green Giant is attacking my car. I’m going to my mechanic.” She turned to her boss. “Come on, James.”
He shook his head. “I’m not getting in that car with you.”
“James, I can drop you on my way. Come on.” Catriona’s voice had lost all girlish flirtatiousness and was downright irritable.
“I’m sorry, but you’re a bad driver to start with. You’ll kill us both if you try to drive with that racket. Let me call us a cab and a tow truck.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving the car here. Not in this neighborhood. Not with him,” Catriona pointed at Isaiah. She stared at Crofton for a moment, obviously torn, but just then the alarm’s beeping grew louder and more urgent. Decision made, Catriona leapt into the vehicle, and was off in a whirl of ice, flashing lights and the ear-splitting alarm.
Chapter 20
Wendy offered Crofton a lift and they said goodbye to Isaiah.
“You might regret coming with me,” she murmured, as he took in her rusty vehicle with its strategically placed duct tape.
“I’m game for anything, besides I’m pretty sure this thing couldn’t reach speeds high enough to kill me.”
“Are you insulting my car?” she demanded, but she tempered her tone with a smile. It was time she stopped being so prickly where Crofton was concerned. She opened the passenger door and wriggled into the driver’s seat. “Coming?”
“How long has the driver’s door been stuck?” James asked as he swung into the passenger seat.
“Oh, not too long. I’ll get it fixed one of these days.” She started the engine and after a few splutters and coughs, they were off. “This is the only car I’ve ever owned.”
“You must have bought it used, because I doubt you were alive when it was made.”
“It was pretty old when I came across it. I guess I nurse it along partly for sentimental reasons.” Martin had always told her she was a terrible driver. She bought the car two days after their break-up.
Crofton cleared his throat. “How long have you known Isaiah?”
“A few years. I worked at another florist for a year before starting Love's Bouquet. He was their wholesaler. He’s a nice guy.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s great.”
Wendy was surprised that Crofton was so judgmental about another person’s appearance. Despite his conservative clothing, Crofton worked in the software industry, which surely had tons of tattooed, green-haired hacker-types. She didn’t pursue it, however. “What are we going to do about our Harry and Minna conundrum?”
Crofton’s eyes lit up. “I had a thought late last night. Minna is president of the volunteer board at the National Gallery and they meet on Wednesdays. The gallery is doing a show of First World War Art this month. I’m sure Harry would love to see it.”
“That’s perfect. Vivienne can look after the shop for an afternoon, and I’ll bring Harry over. Will you be there to soften Minna up?” Wendy held her breath.
“Yeah. The Gallery is near my office. I can get away for an hour. It’s a small price to pay to get Minna off my back”
Wendy glared at him.
“…And ease Harry’s loneliness, of course.”
They had turned onto Wellington Street, the street lamps decorated with Christmas bows.
Crofton’s scent — some kind of herby, clean smell, wafted toward her. It wasn’t a strong odor, so not cologne or aftershave. It must be his soap. Her mind conjured a vision of him in the shower, the water pounding his chest, coursing down his torso… She downshifted at a red light and her hand brushed against his thigh. Her heartbeat quickened, and heat infused her face. A blush crawled up her neck.
“Wendy, the light is green.” Crofton was looking at her.
“What? Of course.” She peeled away with a screech of tires. “You’ll think I’m as bad as Catriona.” Wendy gave a nervous laugh, and hoped Crofton didn’t notice she was the color of a ripened beet.
They were in the Market now, and the area’s open-air street vendors and outdoor performers required more concentration to navigate.
“Nah, I feel completely safe with you at the wheel. My building is just up ahead, on the left.”
Crofton felt safe with her? For some reason, his polite words filled her with happiness. She fought the feeling down as soon as she had identified it and turned the conversation back to their project: “What time will we rendez-vous?”
“Minna’s meeting should be over by one p.m. Take the next left. My building is down George Street.”
Wendy spotted a small “LCC” sign attached to a modern-looking glass and steel building, tucked in amongst its older, red brick neighbours.
“I got you here in one piece,” she said.
“Thanks for the lift.” Crofton exited the car and then leaned back in. He smiled down at her and Wendy had the crazy idea that he would kiss her goodbye.
He just nodded his head and said “See you on Wednesday.”
It sounded like a promise.
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