Snowdrop Kisses Part Twenty-Two
A Christmas love story featuring a plucky florist and a tall dark and handsome entrepreneur
Previously… in Part 21 James and Wendy enjoy time in the gardens and Wendy is reminded of why she and James can’t be together.
Chapter 43
After the brunch Wendy spent a few hours taking down the flowers. She carried the wreaths and bouquets back to the workroom. Undoing the arrangements, she trimmed the stems and added flowers that were still fresh to the mason jars.
She left eight arrangements on the kitchen table for James, with a note: “They won’t die for a while as long as you keep tending them.” The same could be said for her feelings for James. She needed to get away from him to end her obsession.
By late afternoon Wendy had gathered up the last of the pots and her watering cans and was ready to pack up her car. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to help Viv close.
She looked up as Catriona walked into the workroom. “Good, I was hoping to catch you.”
Wendy steeled herself for unpleasantness. “Why’s that?”
“I wanted to thank you for your good work. I had some doubts in the beginning, but you pulled it off. The flowers were beautiful.”
Wendy looked at Catriona’s outstretched hand. Was this a trick? They shook hands, exchanged a few more pleasantries and the other woman left. Maybe Wendy had misread the other woman. Could her unhealthy relationship with Martin have primed her to be jealous of any woman she deemed a threat? If only she could afford therapy to figure this all out.
Tiredly, she carried the last load out to her car. Hers was the only one left in the parking area behind the house. It would be good to get back to Ottawa. The store was closed on Monday, and she looked forward to a day off to sort out her confused feelings.
Wendy dumped her equipment in the trunk and climbed over to the driver’s seat. She turned the key, but there was only a small whirring sound. With a feeling of dread, she tried the key again and again. Soon, even the whirring stopped.
She clambered out and stared at her car. With a sense of doom she recalled the email reminding her to renew her automobile association membership. What was this going to cost her? With a frustrated yell, she kicked the car’s back tire. Just then, James came out the door.
He grinned. “I don’t know much about cars, but I doubt that’s helpful.”
Wendy explained the problem, trying not to sound enraged.
“Is it the battery?”
“No. One thing this piece of junk has going for it is the brand new battery I bought in September. It’s probably worth more than the whole car!”
Casting a disparaging glance over her rust-covered vehicle, James murmured, “You might be right.”
Wendy bristled. “Listen, not everyone can afford Ferraris and Jaguars! This car has served me well for four years, and I’m sure it will continue for another four!”
“I was only teasing, Wendy. It’s a world-class example of automotive technology.”
Wendy looked at him with suspicion but he seemed sincere. “I’ll have to get it towed to a garage.”
James ran a hand through his hair. “It’s three thirty on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of the country. You’re not going to get anything done today.”
“There must be something open.”
“The nearest town is a half hour drive and I know for a fact that the only mechanic is closed on Sunday. Earl is a religious man.”
Wendy’s heart sank. “I guess I’ll go home and call first thing in the morning. Do you mind if I leave my car here until then?”
“I don’t think you’ll get to Ottawa tonight.”
“What do you mean?” She fought to keep a quaver of panic from her voice.
“The last bus to the city left forty-five minutes ago. Several of the other guests caught it. You’re stuck here, Wendy.”
“I can’t be stuck! There must be a way back! Maybe I could grab a ride with another guest.”
“Catriona was the last to leave. I just said goodbye to her.”
“What about you? Are you headed to the city?” She didn’t relish being in a car with him for two hours, but it seemed like the only alternative.
“I wasn’t planning on returning until Tuesday. I’m taking a couple of days off. If you need to get back tonight, though, I can drive you.”
“No, I don’t want to ruin your vacation.” Wendy thought quickly. “If you could tell me where the nearest motel is, I’ll get a room for the night.”
“Don’t worry about that, Wendy. You can stay here. There’s plenty of space.”
She swallowed hard. He was right. She tried to ignore the dangerous swell of excitement that suffused her. Listening to that emotion would lead to trouble. “Thank you.”
James reached into her trunk, took her bag and together they walked back to the house.
There was a calm over the entire building, as if the old house was catching its breath after the whirlwind of activity that had taken place within its walls.
James brought her into the office. Painted a soothing blue, overflowing bookcases lined three walls. Battered leather chairs formed a cozy sitting area around a fireplace at the far side of the room. James went to an enormous old desk by the door. Three giant computers dominated its surface, an intrusion of modernity in the otherwise antique-filled oasis. He gestured to a chair and she called Earl’s, leaving a message requesting a tow as early as possible in the morning. Next, she called Vivienne and broke the news that she wouldn’t be back in time to close up. Her assistant grumbled, of course, but agreed with promises of overtime ringing in her ears.
James took Kim’s floor plan from a desk drawer and offered it to her. “Would you like to pick another room? You could have a bigger one tonight.”
Wendy shook her head. “No thanks. I liked the one I shared with Kim.”
“That was my childhood bedroom,” he replied. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it looks out onto the old stable. I did a bit of riding when I was little.”
“I love horses,” said Wendy. “My parents still live on a wonderful little farm in the Annapolis Valley. From the top of our back meadow you can glimpse the Minas Basin. It’s beautiful.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“Oh,” said Wendy, brightening, “It is.”
“Why did you move away?”
“I wanted to succeed on my own.” Her eyes darkened as she remembered how her faith in the future had once rested with Martin, and how he had cheated her, quite literally, out of her dreams. “I won’t count on anyone for anything. My parents are great, but it would be too easy to be dependent on them if I lived closer.”
There was a pause and Wendy had the unpleasant feeling that she had revealed a little too much of herself.
“I knew you were self-sufficient, but I didn’t realize it had such strong roots. It’s Okay to trust people, you know.” James’ voice was gentle. “Not everyone is going to let you down, as someone obviously once did.”
“I guess I’ve dropped my tough façade, eh?”
“Nah, I still think you’re tough… It’s one of the things I like about you.”
They stared at one another for a moment. Wendy remembered his hands on her arms as they danced last night. She blinked rapidly and looked away, humming off-key.
“Are you hungry? I was going to make a sandwich.”
“Starving,” she nearly shouted, delighted to have something to break the mood. “I’ll nip upstairs and put my bag away.”
She turned and literally ran for the stairs, anxious to put some distance between him and his intense gaze. Problem was, she didn’t think she could run far enough to escape its pull.
Chapter 44
James walked towards the back of the house, shaking his head. He’d promised himself he’d fight his attraction to Wendy and yet here he was offering her a place to stay. This would lead to trouble; Wendy wasn’t the kind of woman who just had a fling, and he didn’t want any romantic entanglements. Keeping things light, keeping things surface was the way to go. He didn’t want to hurt Wendy. He stopped. Since when did he worry about the woman’s feelings in a relationship? Normally, he avoided entanglements in order to save himself future pain.
He’d dated dozens of women, but he’d never felt the electric jolt of excitement that he did around Wendy. It was odd, because she was so obviously unsuited to the type of disposable relationship he preferred. She wanted “happily ever after,” and he wanted “a couple of weeks, two months tops.”
James blinked in surprise when he walked into the kitchen. The table was covered with arrangements of the creamy white flowers and deep green ivy from the party. Absently, he rubbed a petal between his fingers, remembering the feel of Wendy’s soft skin under his fingers. Last night she looked so sexy in the hallway -- all sleepy and disheveled. He spent the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t run off. It was no use, however. Wendy was obviously resistant to exploring their enormous sexual chemistry, and James had to respect that.
He began slicing bread and Wendy came into the kitchen, standing beside him at the counter. James’ entire body was sensitive to her proximity. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, and imagined the yielding firmness of her breasts.
“Hey,” she said. “Throw more cheese into mine, would you? I don’t like skinny little sandwiches.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were hungry,” laughed James. “I love women with appetites. I meet a lot who seem to get their nourishment from TicTacs and water vapour, at least when I’m around.”
“Well, you’re obviously spending time with the wrong women.”
“Obviously,” said James, giving her an appreciative look. He groaned inwardly. Smooth, James, really smooth. He felt like a lecherous game show host around Wendy. She was staring at the floor. He had probably made her uncomfortable.
They sat at the kitchen table, amidst all of the bouquets, munching on their sandwiches in silence. James was desperate to break the awkwardness. “Those arrangements are really pretty. Thanks.”
She smiled and something lightened in his chest at the way her face opened up. All he wanted to do was to keep making her smile like that.
“That’s kind.”
“No, I mean it. You’re really good. Even Catriona was impressed.”
Her smile wavered, but she replied. “Well, I love being a florist.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you come up with the name Love's Bouquet? It’s good marketing -- easy to remember and romantic.”
She finished a bite before answering. “When I decided to open the shop, I knew I’d have to find a niche. I did some market research and realised most of the other florists were business oriented. I figured a softer approach would appeal to moony-eyed sentimentals with deep pockets.”
James laughed. “That’s a cynical explanation, and I don’t buy it. You’re a romantic and all this talk of market research is a cover!”
Wendy snorted. “Believe me, when you’ve spent a few hours in a hot, chafing polyester Santa suit, your sense of romance disappears fast.”
James picked up her plate, taking it to the sink. Wendy was smart, easy to talk to and she made him laugh. She would make a perfect friend, if it weren’t for his persistent and distracting desire to strip this “friend” naked and make slow, sweet love to her.
He had to get out of the house, and away from the temptation to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to his bedroom.
“How about a walk?” he asked.
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