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Synopsis
Fans of Jill Shalvis, Susan Mallery, and RaeAnne Thayne will love the fourth book in Olivia Miles's Briar Creek series. Love is always in season . . . Florist Ivy Birch fantasizes about the day a man will surprise her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Especially if that man happens to be Brett Hastings. One stolen kiss at her best friend's wedding and Ivy can't get the sexy ER doctor out of her head. In the small town of Briar Creek, you can't avoid anyone for very long. Not that Brett has been trying to avoid Ivy. He just can't afford to let anything distract him from his work-not again. So when a hospital fundraiser throws them together, love is the last thing on his mind. But with her quick wit and sweet laugh, soon the one woman he's tried to keep at arm's length is capturing his heart..
Release date: July 26, 2016
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 353
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Love Blooms on Main Street
Olivia Miles
If Ivy Birch closed her eyes, she could still feel the sweet taste of Brett Hastings’s lips on her mouth. Still feel the flutter of anticipation as he leaned into her and she realized that finally, finally, after years of waiting and hoping, her lifelong crush was actually going to kiss her. Her pulse still skittered as she replayed their first touch, so tender, so wished for, but her heart began to positively pound when she remembered the way he brought his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her against that hard chest, the heat of his breath and body so all-consuming she still got dizzy just thinking about it! And oh, did she think about it. More than a little. More than she probably should.
The bell hanging over her shop door jangled, and reluctantly Ivy pulled herself from her dream world, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly at the long-stemmed roses she still clutched in her hands, in a vain effort to unite with reality and not cling to that one, wonderful moment that had come and gone so quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she sometimes wondered, a little disconcertedly, if it had ever really happened at all. Seven months had passed since that bliss-filled night of her best friend Grace’s wedding to Brett’s cousin, Luke. Seven months with nothing to hold on to but a memory.
Seven months that should have been spent reminding herself of the phone call that never followed, the roses that were never sent, and the plans that were never made…
“Ahem!”
Ivy jumped, turned quickly, and nicked her hip on the corner of one of her wooden display tables, sending a glass vase askew. She caught it before it shattered to the floor, ignoring the water that had sloshed, and adjusted the irises. Grimacing against the pain, she smiled cheerfully, hoping the same would be offered from her impatient customer.
Mrs. Griffin, Briar Creek’s resident innkeeper, just stared her down and pinched her lips a little tighter. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep,” she huffed.
Ivy laughed easily and shook her head. Mrs. Griffin was a regular at Petals on Main—in here at least twice a week—and such loyalty was never overlooked. “That would be quite an accomplishment, now, wouldn’t it? I had an early morning,” she said. Long before the doors of Petals on Main opened, she was hard at work trimming stems, going over orders that had come in overnight, and making sure each plant presented was in the best condition possible.
“At the inn, I start my day at four sharp,” Mrs. Griffin remarked. “Sunday through Saturday, and I’ve never slept through the alarm once in all these years. My guests expect a hot breakfast and a newspaper set outside their doors when they awake, and I wouldn’t want to let them down, after all.” She gave Ivy a pointed look.
Ivy stifled a sigh and grinned a little wider instead, even though she was clenching her teeth. She and Mrs. Griffin had one thing in common, and that was customer service, no matter how inconvenient. She’d put too much time and energy into the flower shop to let things slip through the cracks now, and between forgetting where she’d set the scissors for thirty-five minutes this morning (in the storage room’s mini-fridge: troublesome) and failing to place the order for vases before close of business yesterday, she was in danger of just that. All because she couldn’t stop thinking of Brett. It was juvenile, she knew. After all, the man had only kissed her. It wasn’t like he’d proposed marriage or anything.
Marriage. Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. Imagine that.
Her eyes roamed to a beautiful bouquet of peonies, in creamy shades of pale pink and apricot, and she could almost feel the stems in her hand, brushing the ivory satin skirt of her dress. Or would she go with lace? Once there had been a time when she imagined Brett waiting at the end of the aisle for her, but with heavy disappointment, she’d finally erased that image from her mind. For the most part.
“Ahem!”
Snapping to attention, Ivy felt her cheeks grow hot as she guiltily met the innkeeper’s gaze once more. “Sorry,” she muttered. Okay, this was officially ridiculous. She couldn’t exactly carry on like this indefinitely, not unless she wanted to be alone and broke.
Mrs. Griffin folded her arms in front of her calmly as amusement glinted in her steady gaze. “If I didn’t know better, I might think the love bug had finally caught up with you, Ivy Birch.”
Ivy snorted at the use of the term love bug. “Just lost in thought. There’s a lot to do today,” she added. She checked her watch with a start. My, how time flew when you were having fun, or thinking about Brett Hastings. Dr. Brett Hastings. Dr. and Mrs. Brett Hastings.
This had to stop. Next thing she’d be doodling his name on scrap paper. She was thirty—who did that?
She blew a strand of hair from her forehead and made a few quick calculations. Mrs. Griffin liked to take her time with her selections, hemming and hawing over seasonal varieties and color schemes, careful to ensure the bouquet in her lobby was both elegant and understated and, above all, welcoming.
“Were you thinking of roses this week?” Ivy asked.
“No, I thought I’d peruse all of my options today.” Mrs. Griffin bent to smell some blue delphiniums. “Not quite what I had in mind. Welcoming and understated, but certainly not—”
“Elegant.” Ivy knew. She crossed the room and gestured to a personal favorite. “Sweet peas are certainly special and, in my opinion, unexpected.”
Sometimes she wondered where she came up with this stuff. She loved her job, loved the simple pleasure of being surrounded by beautiful, colorful flowers every day, loved the creative freedom she had in putting together a mixed bouquet, but what she didn’t like so much were the indecisive clients. God knew she had enough of those with her brides, and there were more and more of them popping up in Briar Creek these days. It seemed like everyone was getting married. Everyone but her.
“Hmm, those certainly are pretty and different from my usual arrangements.” Mrs. Griffin hesitated and tapped her pointer finger to her lower lip. “Let me think about this…”
The door chimed again, and right on cue, Jane Madison walked in, carrying a blast of warm June air. It was already muggy and it wasn’t even noon, but Ivy didn’t mind. It just meant hydrangeas and delphiniums and calla lilies were bursting into bloom, and who couldn’t be happy about that?
Ivy grinned at her future sister-in-law, and began untying the strings on the apron she always wore in the shop. She’d hoped to freshen up before Jane relieved her, but she’d been too busy daydreaming and now there was no time, unless she wanted to be late. Still, she’d grab a quick snack for the road, just so she didn’t have a sugar crash.
“I actually have an appointment, Mrs. Griffin, but Jane will be able to assist you. She’s quite the expert with arrangements these days.”
Jane could barely suppress her smile. “I have to admit I’m having more fun planning this wedding than I did my first.”
“Probably because you have that cute little girl to share your excitement,” Mrs. Griffin said. The whole town knew how much Jane’s now six-year-old daughter, Sophie, was looking forward to being a flower girl again.
“That, and Henry.” Jane glanced down at the ring that Ivy had helped her twin brother select this past winter. The wedding was scheduled for September, and with any luck, that meant in only a few short months, she might be spending another wedding reception flirting with Brett. Not that she’d be letting him kiss her again… not unless he explained where he’d been for the past seven months. Though he lived in Baltimore and rarely visited, phone or email would have been better than nothing.
“Right, well, I’d better be off,” Ivy said quickly. She left the women to mull over the bright spring blooms and ducked into the storage room, where she hung her apron on the hook and grabbed a few crackers from the box she always kept on hand. If traffic—and her car—cooperated, she’d get to the appointment with room to spare. Then she’d have every excuse to sit and relax and think about exactly what she’d be wearing the next time she saw Brett Hastings… She’d show him what he’d been missing.
And he wouldn’t know what hit him.
Half an hour later, Ivy darted through the automatic doors of Forest Ridge Hospital, cursing under her breath. Thanks to her car’s less-than-reliable temperament, she was now five minutes late to her appointment. That and sweating like she’d just run a marathon, when really, she probably couldn’t run to the end of her block if she tried. She plucked the front of her sleeveless white cotton blouse in an effort to air it out, and then dropped into a chair to cool down. Soon she’d have to get a new car, or at least do something about the current one, but repairs cost money—money that could be spent on more important things, like a new sign for her shop or additional help.
Her blood glucose monitor was in the inside pocket of her tote, where she always kept it now, and one prick confirmed what she already knew. Sprinting through a parking garage and taking the steps instead of waiting for the elevator had dropped her blood sugar level, and now she’d need to eat to bring it back up. She fumbled in her bag for some pretzels and quickly tore open the packaging.
She knew that regular exercise was part of her doctor’s plan, but honestly, who had the time?
Make time. Henry’s voice echoed in her head. But that was easy for him to say. He didn’t spend hours on his feet, and he didn’t have to work long into the night to make sure the books were balanced and orders were placed on time. He didn’t worry that his creation could make or break a wedding day or would mark an occasion that only came around once in a lifetime. Too often customers consumed her shop hours, not that she minded their company, but that meant her workday extended long after she’d turned the sign on the door.
Still, she made a mental note to get in shape before Jane and Henry’s wedding. She’d try that Pilates class her friend Kara was always raving about. She’d get highlights, too, and have her legs waxed—just in case. She’d be toned and smooth, with an air of je ne sais quoi, as the French said, and, of course, impossible to resist. And Brett would have to kiss her again, right then and there, with a newfound eagerness and a promise never to go back to Baltimore again.
Ivy shook away the fantasy. Time to face reality.
She tossed the plastic wrapper in the trash and pressed the button for the elevator. She tapped her foot with growing impatience as the metal doors slowly unfolded, eager to get inside and up to her appointment, but as the doors opened fully, all anxiety of running late disappeared and a newfound dread landed squarely in its place.
Brett Hastings, object of her childhood and, of late, adult fantasies stood before her, tousled brown hair and all. Ivy blinked at him, wondering if her imagination had finally gotten the better of her, and resisted the urge to reach out a finger and poke him, just to put herself in check.
But no, he was real. Real and, as luck would have it, oh so much cuter than she’d even remembered. His chin was tipped slightly, accentuating the shadow of its cleft, his hands were casually tucked into gray slacks, his nut-brown hair glistening under the fluorescent lighting, and those perfectly arched brows furrowed with thought as his eyes bored steadily through her.
She could have stared at him all day, until she felt the slow, cold drop of sweat that had collected just over her top lip in her mad dash through the parking garage begin to trickle…
She licked her lips quickly and smiled as if nothing was amiss, as if her heart wasn’t thumping against her rib cage, or that she hadn’t dreamed of this moment night and day for months until she’d come to accept the fact that like plenty before him, the man simply wasn’t interested.
“Brett!” She tried to casually toss her hair over her shoulders, but the damp locks clung firmly to her neck.
Brett’s brow pinched slightly. “Well, this is a surprise.” To say the least. “What brings you here?”
Given that Brett Hastings rarely surfaced in the state of Vermont since he’d first left for college a dozen years ago, Ivy thought she should really be the one asking that question, but right now her tongue was tied, her brain had gone mushy, and she was blinking as quickly as her eyes would let her as her gaze raked over his broad shoulders to the hard wall of his chest to the black leather belt on his pants.
She snapped her eyes upward. So he was hot. Plenty of men were good-looking. Not that she’d had the pleasure of kissing them all…
“Just an appointment,” she said casually, hoping he wouldn’t press further. She’d kept her diagnosis to herself ever since she was a kid, and even as an adult, she preferred it that way. Briar Creek was small, and people in town had held enough opinions on how she had grown up. Why give them any more ammunition? Besides, now was hardly the time to bore him with tedious details like her battle with diabetes. Now was the time to rekindle the romance they’d shared that brisk autumn night. Or at least bring it to the forefront of his mind…
The man was busy, she reminded herself. And he did live several hours away. And he did look damn good in that dress shirt. Maybe she could find it in her heart to cut him a little slack…
Brett jutted his lower lip and rolled back on his heels, his gaze roaming over her quickly before shifting away. She let her eyes linger on those lips, and felt her own part slightly, wondering if he might catch her subtle reminder.
Instead, he folded his arms and cocked his head. “Have one of those myself, actually,” he said with a lazy grin, and Ivy felt a warm tingle spread over her skin. That grin was her undoing every time, ever since the seventh grade, when she’d beat him in a math bee and he’d congratulated her after class. He checked his watch. “In fact, I hate to run, but I don’t want to be late.”
Ivy tensed. “No, of course. Are you—” Kicking herself for even posing the question, she finished, “Are you… in town for long?”
“Not sure.” He frowned slightly. “I just drove up yesterday.”
She fought back the twinge of hurt that he had been back in town for a day and hadn’t called. Just as quickly, she reminded herself that he was probably busy with his mother and brother, especially since he hadn’t seen them in a while. He’d probably planned on coming into town today, stopping in to say hello, ask her when she closed for the day…
Or maybe… just maybe he hadn’t planned on doing any of those things. Maybe the fact was the man was just a jerk, someone who’d kissed her, had a little fun with her, run his hands up and down her skin, and then never given her a second thought.
Her stomach knotted at the thought. Silence stretched. She waited for him to say something more, maybe suggest dinner, or even drinks. Instead, he said nothing at all. He just stared at her with those dark, determined eyes. Stared at the beads of sweat that she uneasily suspected had collected along her hairline.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you again while you’re in town,” she said carefully. Just the right amount of insinuation. Just the right amount of suggestion.
“Yeah, probably. But I should really get going. It was good seeing you, Ivy!” Brett grinned, but before she could respond, he thumped her on the upper arm and went on his merry way. No mention of the kiss. No suggestion of a get-together. Not even an invitation for a lukewarm cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria.
Ivy stood in stunned silence, her mouth still slack from her unspoken response, and stared at the metal elevator doors, catching her blurred reflection. She didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked downright crestfallen.
For the second time in a matter of months, Brett had managed to turn her world upside down. Only this time, not in the way she had hoped.
Ivy narrowed her eyes at the silver-framed medical chart that hung on the otherwise bare white wall of the examination room. To think of the time she’d wasted on that man! To think of the energy, the emotion, the hope! For what? Some cad in a white coat? He’d been such a nice boy growing up—quiet and studious, so different than the other guys she knew—but now…
Now he was no different than the others she’d dated throughout her twenties. No different than the fleeting series of dates she’d had on and off over the years with men who seemed so promising at first and ended up being a complete disappointment. Each time she’d told herself, good riddance, no matter, he wasn’t the one, and each time, in the back of her mind, she thought of Brett. Sweet, brown-eyed Brett who was so easy to talk to, so easy on the eyes, so serious, smart, funny, and… perfect. And she’d thought, if only he’d just move back to town, then maybe…
A tear began to fall and she brushed it away before her doctor came into the room and started jumping to false conclusions. It had been a night of fun, as weddings usually were. She’d built it up to be more than it was. And that hurt. A lot. And as soon as she got out of this damn appointment, she was going to go home and erase every reminder of that evening from her life, starting with the crimson bridesmaid’s dress.
Always a bridesmaid, she thought, thinking of the upcoming weddings with newfound dread. It would be difficult enough to sit through Henry’s, but at least she’d be busy, sister of the groom and all, but Anna and Mark’s would pose a new challenge, as Brett would certainly be there as brother of the groom. They hadn’t set a date yet—too busy running their restaurant to find the time. Selfishly, this had tried her patience. Until today. With any luck, they’d just elope.
Two knocks gave her ample warning to swipe her fingers under her eyes before her doctor opened the door, his balding head bent over a clipboard. He flipped a page and settled himself onto a stool before looking up at where she sat on the edge of the examination table. “The bloodwork looks good,” he said. His eyes roamed over her through his wire-framed glasses. “How have you been feeling?”
“Fine. Great.” Never worse.
“Any dizziness?” He stood and removed his stethoscope from his neck.
She decided not to mention her little jog through the parking lot and the hit she’d immediately taken. If she tried to explain, it would just lead to a line of questioning she didn’t want to deal with and a lecture about her daily routine. She’d pushed herself a little too hard; it was hardly the same as the mistakes she’d made in her past. “Nope, not really. I’ve been following the diet plan you gave me.”
“Good.” He pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Big breath in.”
Ivy did as she was told, wondering if the metal object could decipher a broken heart. But the doctor pulled back, seemingly satisfied, and made a note on the chart.
“You’re taking your insulin every day?” He gave her a long, pointed look.
Ivy swallowed hard. “Haven’t missed a dose.” Not in seven months was the unspoken understanding. Not since the last time she’d been chauffeured to the emergency room by an ambulance back in the fall.
She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“Good. Monitoring your blood glucose throughout the day?”
Ivy nodded again and forced herself not to sigh as the questioning continued. She deserved it, after all. In time she’d hopefully convince her doctor that she was behaving responsibly. And her brother, she thought, thinking of the stern talking-to that Henry had given her when he’d come back to town to clean up her mess last year.
“I’m taking my meds now,” she said. When the doctor cocked an eyebrow, she confirmed, “All my meds. Not skipping doses.” It had been risky, she knew, but years ago when she was feeling okay, it was sometimes easy to pretend everything was fine, that she wasn’t sick, that she didn’t have to worry about pesky things like insulin shots and blood glucose levels. That she could just be normal.
When had she ever been normal, though? Never, she thought, shuddering when she recalled the gossip that used to fly around town about their mother.
“I’m writing you a prescription that will take you through our next appointment.”
“I’ll be there,” Ivy said, taking the slip of paper. When the doctor held her gaze, she swallowed a sigh. “I promise.”
And she would be there, because she didn’t want another trip to the ER. And because if her condition didn’t kill her that time, then Henry sure as hell would.
Well, that rut was behind her now. In time, she’d find a way to pay back her brother, even if he neither wanted it nor expected it.
“The pharmacy downstairs is open today.” The doctor’s hint was more of an order and another deflating reminder of how irresponsible she’d been.
The thought of lingering in this building, where Brett was roaming the halls, was enough to make her break into a cold sweat, but allowing that to happen would only ring the alarm bells and lead to another sugar reading, so Ivy hopped off the table, willed herself to ignore all emotions, and said, like the coolheaded adult that she was, “I’ll do that right now.”
She grazed her back teeth together as she slowly walked to the elevator and pressed the button, bracing herself for the sight of those long legs, broad shoulders, and silky brown hair she’d tangled through her fingers. What was he doing here anyway? She supposed just as he said—a meeting. A professional reason to be back in the area. Certainly not a personal one, she thought bitterly.
She held her breath as the doors slid open seconds later, and let a long sigh roll through her shoulders when she locked eyes with an elderly man proudly clutching a bouquet of pink roses. “New great-grandbaby,” he boasted, and Ivy gave a weak smile in return. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he was taking the elevator in the wrong direction. Besides, if she missed this ride, there was no telling what—or who—would be behind the next set of doors.
“Congratulations.” She stepped inside, pressed the button for the lobby level, and waited for the doors to close. The elevator moved slowly, its descent noted on the illuminated numbers near the ceiling. Chances were he’d be gone, she reminded himself. He’d had an appointment. Unless that was just an excuse. She was no stranger to those—empty promises to “do it again sometime,” or loose suggestions of a phone call that never came. Just once she’d like a man to tell her straight up that he wasn’t interested. No more bull. No more dancing around the obvious. No more trying to spare her feelings in the wake of saving face.
She was a big girl. She could take it.
Still, as the elevator settled itself and the doors once again spread open, revealing an ever-broadening view of the wide-open atrium, with its glass ceilings and not so much as a potted plant to hide behind, Ivy felt her heart began to pound. She swept her eyes quickly over the room, hurried to the pharmacy, and snatched a random magazine on her way to the counter.
She slid the prescription to the pharmacist and darted her gaze to the right and then the left, careful not to move her neck. “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she explained. “Maybe I should come back—”
“This should only take ten minutes.” The woman gave a pleasant smile.
Ivy glanced out to the atrium. Every second that ticked by was another chance to run into Brett. And she didn’t want to. Once, she would have loved nothing more. But she’d clearly been a fool then.
Ivy slid into a chair at the far end of the row against the back wall and opened the car racing magazine in front of her face.
So maybe she was overreacting. The chances of Brett stopping into the pharmacy were slim; she doubted he’d be picking up a prescription or stopping in to browse the periodicals, and there were vending machines for snacks all over the building. She’d carefully touched up her makeup with the few cosmetics she carried in her handbag while she was waiting for her doctor to get the test results, and so while she certainly looked better than she had during their little run-in, she didn’t want to repeat the event. Ever. In fact, she’d be quite happy never seeing Brett again in her life. Never being reminded of the dream he had shattered. Never being reminded of the tingle of her lips long after they’d been pulled back into the reception to wave off Grace and Luke…
He’d probably been drunk. Either way, one thing was clear, and that was that Brett Hastings hadn’t enjoyed that kiss as much as she had.
“Ivy?”
At the sound of her name, Ivy startled, dropped the magazine onto the floor and turned, white-faced, to the woman standing above her. “Dr. Kessler!”
“You sound relieved,” Suzanne Kessler remarked with an amused smile. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“You surprised me,” Ivy said, waiting for her pulse to resume a normal speed. “How’s your daughter?” It had been nearly a year since Ivy had overseen the flowers for the Kesslers’ youngest daughter’s wedding: white French tulips mixed with Queen Anne’s lace. Simple, slightly old-fashioned, but intrinsically elegant.
“Never better,” Suzanne said. “I’ve been meaning to come by the store and give you some photos from the wedding. People still stop me to comment on the centerpieces.”
Ivy couldn’t deny the pride she felt hearing this.
“In fact, I’m happy I ran into you today. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Forest Ridge Hospital puts on a fundraising event each year. It’s a big to-do; all the donors come out, there’s a silent auction, and the proceeds go exclusively to the. . .
The bell hanging over her shop door jangled, and reluctantly Ivy pulled herself from her dream world, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly at the long-stemmed roses she still clutched in her hands, in a vain effort to unite with reality and not cling to that one, wonderful moment that had come and gone so quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she sometimes wondered, a little disconcertedly, if it had ever really happened at all. Seven months had passed since that bliss-filled night of her best friend Grace’s wedding to Brett’s cousin, Luke. Seven months with nothing to hold on to but a memory.
Seven months that should have been spent reminding herself of the phone call that never followed, the roses that were never sent, and the plans that were never made…
“Ahem!”
Ivy jumped, turned quickly, and nicked her hip on the corner of one of her wooden display tables, sending a glass vase askew. She caught it before it shattered to the floor, ignoring the water that had sloshed, and adjusted the irises. Grimacing against the pain, she smiled cheerfully, hoping the same would be offered from her impatient customer.
Mrs. Griffin, Briar Creek’s resident innkeeper, just stared her down and pinched her lips a little tighter. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep,” she huffed.
Ivy laughed easily and shook her head. Mrs. Griffin was a regular at Petals on Main—in here at least twice a week—and such loyalty was never overlooked. “That would be quite an accomplishment, now, wouldn’t it? I had an early morning,” she said. Long before the doors of Petals on Main opened, she was hard at work trimming stems, going over orders that had come in overnight, and making sure each plant presented was in the best condition possible.
“At the inn, I start my day at four sharp,” Mrs. Griffin remarked. “Sunday through Saturday, and I’ve never slept through the alarm once in all these years. My guests expect a hot breakfast and a newspaper set outside their doors when they awake, and I wouldn’t want to let them down, after all.” She gave Ivy a pointed look.
Ivy stifled a sigh and grinned a little wider instead, even though she was clenching her teeth. She and Mrs. Griffin had one thing in common, and that was customer service, no matter how inconvenient. She’d put too much time and energy into the flower shop to let things slip through the cracks now, and between forgetting where she’d set the scissors for thirty-five minutes this morning (in the storage room’s mini-fridge: troublesome) and failing to place the order for vases before close of business yesterday, she was in danger of just that. All because she couldn’t stop thinking of Brett. It was juvenile, she knew. After all, the man had only kissed her. It wasn’t like he’d proposed marriage or anything.
Marriage. Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. Imagine that.
Her eyes roamed to a beautiful bouquet of peonies, in creamy shades of pale pink and apricot, and she could almost feel the stems in her hand, brushing the ivory satin skirt of her dress. Or would she go with lace? Once there had been a time when she imagined Brett waiting at the end of the aisle for her, but with heavy disappointment, she’d finally erased that image from her mind. For the most part.
“Ahem!”
Snapping to attention, Ivy felt her cheeks grow hot as she guiltily met the innkeeper’s gaze once more. “Sorry,” she muttered. Okay, this was officially ridiculous. She couldn’t exactly carry on like this indefinitely, not unless she wanted to be alone and broke.
Mrs. Griffin folded her arms in front of her calmly as amusement glinted in her steady gaze. “If I didn’t know better, I might think the love bug had finally caught up with you, Ivy Birch.”
Ivy snorted at the use of the term love bug. “Just lost in thought. There’s a lot to do today,” she added. She checked her watch with a start. My, how time flew when you were having fun, or thinking about Brett Hastings. Dr. Brett Hastings. Dr. and Mrs. Brett Hastings.
This had to stop. Next thing she’d be doodling his name on scrap paper. She was thirty—who did that?
She blew a strand of hair from her forehead and made a few quick calculations. Mrs. Griffin liked to take her time with her selections, hemming and hawing over seasonal varieties and color schemes, careful to ensure the bouquet in her lobby was both elegant and understated and, above all, welcoming.
“Were you thinking of roses this week?” Ivy asked.
“No, I thought I’d peruse all of my options today.” Mrs. Griffin bent to smell some blue delphiniums. “Not quite what I had in mind. Welcoming and understated, but certainly not—”
“Elegant.” Ivy knew. She crossed the room and gestured to a personal favorite. “Sweet peas are certainly special and, in my opinion, unexpected.”
Sometimes she wondered where she came up with this stuff. She loved her job, loved the simple pleasure of being surrounded by beautiful, colorful flowers every day, loved the creative freedom she had in putting together a mixed bouquet, but what she didn’t like so much were the indecisive clients. God knew she had enough of those with her brides, and there were more and more of them popping up in Briar Creek these days. It seemed like everyone was getting married. Everyone but her.
“Hmm, those certainly are pretty and different from my usual arrangements.” Mrs. Griffin hesitated and tapped her pointer finger to her lower lip. “Let me think about this…”
The door chimed again, and right on cue, Jane Madison walked in, carrying a blast of warm June air. It was already muggy and it wasn’t even noon, but Ivy didn’t mind. It just meant hydrangeas and delphiniums and calla lilies were bursting into bloom, and who couldn’t be happy about that?
Ivy grinned at her future sister-in-law, and began untying the strings on the apron she always wore in the shop. She’d hoped to freshen up before Jane relieved her, but she’d been too busy daydreaming and now there was no time, unless she wanted to be late. Still, she’d grab a quick snack for the road, just so she didn’t have a sugar crash.
“I actually have an appointment, Mrs. Griffin, but Jane will be able to assist you. She’s quite the expert with arrangements these days.”
Jane could barely suppress her smile. “I have to admit I’m having more fun planning this wedding than I did my first.”
“Probably because you have that cute little girl to share your excitement,” Mrs. Griffin said. The whole town knew how much Jane’s now six-year-old daughter, Sophie, was looking forward to being a flower girl again.
“That, and Henry.” Jane glanced down at the ring that Ivy had helped her twin brother select this past winter. The wedding was scheduled for September, and with any luck, that meant in only a few short months, she might be spending another wedding reception flirting with Brett. Not that she’d be letting him kiss her again… not unless he explained where he’d been for the past seven months. Though he lived in Baltimore and rarely visited, phone or email would have been better than nothing.
“Right, well, I’d better be off,” Ivy said quickly. She left the women to mull over the bright spring blooms and ducked into the storage room, where she hung her apron on the hook and grabbed a few crackers from the box she always kept on hand. If traffic—and her car—cooperated, she’d get to the appointment with room to spare. Then she’d have every excuse to sit and relax and think about exactly what she’d be wearing the next time she saw Brett Hastings… She’d show him what he’d been missing.
And he wouldn’t know what hit him.
Half an hour later, Ivy darted through the automatic doors of Forest Ridge Hospital, cursing under her breath. Thanks to her car’s less-than-reliable temperament, she was now five minutes late to her appointment. That and sweating like she’d just run a marathon, when really, she probably couldn’t run to the end of her block if she tried. She plucked the front of her sleeveless white cotton blouse in an effort to air it out, and then dropped into a chair to cool down. Soon she’d have to get a new car, or at least do something about the current one, but repairs cost money—money that could be spent on more important things, like a new sign for her shop or additional help.
Her blood glucose monitor was in the inside pocket of her tote, where she always kept it now, and one prick confirmed what she already knew. Sprinting through a parking garage and taking the steps instead of waiting for the elevator had dropped her blood sugar level, and now she’d need to eat to bring it back up. She fumbled in her bag for some pretzels and quickly tore open the packaging.
She knew that regular exercise was part of her doctor’s plan, but honestly, who had the time?
Make time. Henry’s voice echoed in her head. But that was easy for him to say. He didn’t spend hours on his feet, and he didn’t have to work long into the night to make sure the books were balanced and orders were placed on time. He didn’t worry that his creation could make or break a wedding day or would mark an occasion that only came around once in a lifetime. Too often customers consumed her shop hours, not that she minded their company, but that meant her workday extended long after she’d turned the sign on the door.
Still, she made a mental note to get in shape before Jane and Henry’s wedding. She’d try that Pilates class her friend Kara was always raving about. She’d get highlights, too, and have her legs waxed—just in case. She’d be toned and smooth, with an air of je ne sais quoi, as the French said, and, of course, impossible to resist. And Brett would have to kiss her again, right then and there, with a newfound eagerness and a promise never to go back to Baltimore again.
Ivy shook away the fantasy. Time to face reality.
She tossed the plastic wrapper in the trash and pressed the button for the elevator. She tapped her foot with growing impatience as the metal doors slowly unfolded, eager to get inside and up to her appointment, but as the doors opened fully, all anxiety of running late disappeared and a newfound dread landed squarely in its place.
Brett Hastings, object of her childhood and, of late, adult fantasies stood before her, tousled brown hair and all. Ivy blinked at him, wondering if her imagination had finally gotten the better of her, and resisted the urge to reach out a finger and poke him, just to put herself in check.
But no, he was real. Real and, as luck would have it, oh so much cuter than she’d even remembered. His chin was tipped slightly, accentuating the shadow of its cleft, his hands were casually tucked into gray slacks, his nut-brown hair glistening under the fluorescent lighting, and those perfectly arched brows furrowed with thought as his eyes bored steadily through her.
She could have stared at him all day, until she felt the slow, cold drop of sweat that had collected just over her top lip in her mad dash through the parking garage begin to trickle…
She licked her lips quickly and smiled as if nothing was amiss, as if her heart wasn’t thumping against her rib cage, or that she hadn’t dreamed of this moment night and day for months until she’d come to accept the fact that like plenty before him, the man simply wasn’t interested.
“Brett!” She tried to casually toss her hair over her shoulders, but the damp locks clung firmly to her neck.
Brett’s brow pinched slightly. “Well, this is a surprise.” To say the least. “What brings you here?”
Given that Brett Hastings rarely surfaced in the state of Vermont since he’d first left for college a dozen years ago, Ivy thought she should really be the one asking that question, but right now her tongue was tied, her brain had gone mushy, and she was blinking as quickly as her eyes would let her as her gaze raked over his broad shoulders to the hard wall of his chest to the black leather belt on his pants.
She snapped her eyes upward. So he was hot. Plenty of men were good-looking. Not that she’d had the pleasure of kissing them all…
“Just an appointment,” she said casually, hoping he wouldn’t press further. She’d kept her diagnosis to herself ever since she was a kid, and even as an adult, she preferred it that way. Briar Creek was small, and people in town had held enough opinions on how she had grown up. Why give them any more ammunition? Besides, now was hardly the time to bore him with tedious details like her battle with diabetes. Now was the time to rekindle the romance they’d shared that brisk autumn night. Or at least bring it to the forefront of his mind…
The man was busy, she reminded herself. And he did live several hours away. And he did look damn good in that dress shirt. Maybe she could find it in her heart to cut him a little slack…
Brett jutted his lower lip and rolled back on his heels, his gaze roaming over her quickly before shifting away. She let her eyes linger on those lips, and felt her own part slightly, wondering if he might catch her subtle reminder.
Instead, he folded his arms and cocked his head. “Have one of those myself, actually,” he said with a lazy grin, and Ivy felt a warm tingle spread over her skin. That grin was her undoing every time, ever since the seventh grade, when she’d beat him in a math bee and he’d congratulated her after class. He checked his watch. “In fact, I hate to run, but I don’t want to be late.”
Ivy tensed. “No, of course. Are you—” Kicking herself for even posing the question, she finished, “Are you… in town for long?”
“Not sure.” He frowned slightly. “I just drove up yesterday.”
She fought back the twinge of hurt that he had been back in town for a day and hadn’t called. Just as quickly, she reminded herself that he was probably busy with his mother and brother, especially since he hadn’t seen them in a while. He’d probably planned on coming into town today, stopping in to say hello, ask her when she closed for the day…
Or maybe… just maybe he hadn’t planned on doing any of those things. Maybe the fact was the man was just a jerk, someone who’d kissed her, had a little fun with her, run his hands up and down her skin, and then never given her a second thought.
Her stomach knotted at the thought. Silence stretched. She waited for him to say something more, maybe suggest dinner, or even drinks. Instead, he said nothing at all. He just stared at her with those dark, determined eyes. Stared at the beads of sweat that she uneasily suspected had collected along her hairline.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you again while you’re in town,” she said carefully. Just the right amount of insinuation. Just the right amount of suggestion.
“Yeah, probably. But I should really get going. It was good seeing you, Ivy!” Brett grinned, but before she could respond, he thumped her on the upper arm and went on his merry way. No mention of the kiss. No suggestion of a get-together. Not even an invitation for a lukewarm cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria.
Ivy stood in stunned silence, her mouth still slack from her unspoken response, and stared at the metal elevator doors, catching her blurred reflection. She didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked downright crestfallen.
For the second time in a matter of months, Brett had managed to turn her world upside down. Only this time, not in the way she had hoped.
Ivy narrowed her eyes at the silver-framed medical chart that hung on the otherwise bare white wall of the examination room. To think of the time she’d wasted on that man! To think of the energy, the emotion, the hope! For what? Some cad in a white coat? He’d been such a nice boy growing up—quiet and studious, so different than the other guys she knew—but now…
Now he was no different than the others she’d dated throughout her twenties. No different than the fleeting series of dates she’d had on and off over the years with men who seemed so promising at first and ended up being a complete disappointment. Each time she’d told herself, good riddance, no matter, he wasn’t the one, and each time, in the back of her mind, she thought of Brett. Sweet, brown-eyed Brett who was so easy to talk to, so easy on the eyes, so serious, smart, funny, and… perfect. And she’d thought, if only he’d just move back to town, then maybe…
A tear began to fall and she brushed it away before her doctor came into the room and started jumping to false conclusions. It had been a night of fun, as weddings usually were. She’d built it up to be more than it was. And that hurt. A lot. And as soon as she got out of this damn appointment, she was going to go home and erase every reminder of that evening from her life, starting with the crimson bridesmaid’s dress.
Always a bridesmaid, she thought, thinking of the upcoming weddings with newfound dread. It would be difficult enough to sit through Henry’s, but at least she’d be busy, sister of the groom and all, but Anna and Mark’s would pose a new challenge, as Brett would certainly be there as brother of the groom. They hadn’t set a date yet—too busy running their restaurant to find the time. Selfishly, this had tried her patience. Until today. With any luck, they’d just elope.
Two knocks gave her ample warning to swipe her fingers under her eyes before her doctor opened the door, his balding head bent over a clipboard. He flipped a page and settled himself onto a stool before looking up at where she sat on the edge of the examination table. “The bloodwork looks good,” he said. His eyes roamed over her through his wire-framed glasses. “How have you been feeling?”
“Fine. Great.” Never worse.
“Any dizziness?” He stood and removed his stethoscope from his neck.
She decided not to mention her little jog through the parking lot and the hit she’d immediately taken. If she tried to explain, it would just lead to a line of questioning she didn’t want to deal with and a lecture about her daily routine. She’d pushed herself a little too hard; it was hardly the same as the mistakes she’d made in her past. “Nope, not really. I’ve been following the diet plan you gave me.”
“Good.” He pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Big breath in.”
Ivy did as she was told, wondering if the metal object could decipher a broken heart. But the doctor pulled back, seemingly satisfied, and made a note on the chart.
“You’re taking your insulin every day?” He gave her a long, pointed look.
Ivy swallowed hard. “Haven’t missed a dose.” Not in seven months was the unspoken understanding. Not since the last time she’d been chauffeured to the emergency room by an ambulance back in the fall.
She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“Good. Monitoring your blood glucose throughout the day?”
Ivy nodded again and forced herself not to sigh as the questioning continued. She deserved it, after all. In time she’d hopefully convince her doctor that she was behaving responsibly. And her brother, she thought, thinking of the stern talking-to that Henry had given her when he’d come back to town to clean up her mess last year.
“I’m taking my meds now,” she said. When the doctor cocked an eyebrow, she confirmed, “All my meds. Not skipping doses.” It had been risky, she knew, but years ago when she was feeling okay, it was sometimes easy to pretend everything was fine, that she wasn’t sick, that she didn’t have to worry about pesky things like insulin shots and blood glucose levels. That she could just be normal.
When had she ever been normal, though? Never, she thought, shuddering when she recalled the gossip that used to fly around town about their mother.
“I’m writing you a prescription that will take you through our next appointment.”
“I’ll be there,” Ivy said, taking the slip of paper. When the doctor held her gaze, she swallowed a sigh. “I promise.”
And she would be there, because she didn’t want another trip to the ER. And because if her condition didn’t kill her that time, then Henry sure as hell would.
Well, that rut was behind her now. In time, she’d find a way to pay back her brother, even if he neither wanted it nor expected it.
“The pharmacy downstairs is open today.” The doctor’s hint was more of an order and another deflating reminder of how irresponsible she’d been.
The thought of lingering in this building, where Brett was roaming the halls, was enough to make her break into a cold sweat, but allowing that to happen would only ring the alarm bells and lead to another sugar reading, so Ivy hopped off the table, willed herself to ignore all emotions, and said, like the coolheaded adult that she was, “I’ll do that right now.”
She grazed her back teeth together as she slowly walked to the elevator and pressed the button, bracing herself for the sight of those long legs, broad shoulders, and silky brown hair she’d tangled through her fingers. What was he doing here anyway? She supposed just as he said—a meeting. A professional reason to be back in the area. Certainly not a personal one, she thought bitterly.
She held her breath as the doors slid open seconds later, and let a long sigh roll through her shoulders when she locked eyes with an elderly man proudly clutching a bouquet of pink roses. “New great-grandbaby,” he boasted, and Ivy gave a weak smile in return. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he was taking the elevator in the wrong direction. Besides, if she missed this ride, there was no telling what—or who—would be behind the next set of doors.
“Congratulations.” She stepped inside, pressed the button for the lobby level, and waited for the doors to close. The elevator moved slowly, its descent noted on the illuminated numbers near the ceiling. Chances were he’d be gone, she reminded himself. He’d had an appointment. Unless that was just an excuse. She was no stranger to those—empty promises to “do it again sometime,” or loose suggestions of a phone call that never came. Just once she’d like a man to tell her straight up that he wasn’t interested. No more bull. No more dancing around the obvious. No more trying to spare her feelings in the wake of saving face.
She was a big girl. She could take it.
Still, as the elevator settled itself and the doors once again spread open, revealing an ever-broadening view of the wide-open atrium, with its glass ceilings and not so much as a potted plant to hide behind, Ivy felt her heart began to pound. She swept her eyes quickly over the room, hurried to the pharmacy, and snatched a random magazine on her way to the counter.
She slid the prescription to the pharmacist and darted her gaze to the right and then the left, careful not to move her neck. “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she explained. “Maybe I should come back—”
“This should only take ten minutes.” The woman gave a pleasant smile.
Ivy glanced out to the atrium. Every second that ticked by was another chance to run into Brett. And she didn’t want to. Once, she would have loved nothing more. But she’d clearly been a fool then.
Ivy slid into a chair at the far end of the row against the back wall and opened the car racing magazine in front of her face.
So maybe she was overreacting. The chances of Brett stopping into the pharmacy were slim; she doubted he’d be picking up a prescription or stopping in to browse the periodicals, and there were vending machines for snacks all over the building. She’d carefully touched up her makeup with the few cosmetics she carried in her handbag while she was waiting for her doctor to get the test results, and so while she certainly looked better than she had during their little run-in, she didn’t want to repeat the event. Ever. In fact, she’d be quite happy never seeing Brett again in her life. Never being reminded of the dream he had shattered. Never being reminded of the tingle of her lips long after they’d been pulled back into the reception to wave off Grace and Luke…
He’d probably been drunk. Either way, one thing was clear, and that was that Brett Hastings hadn’t enjoyed that kiss as much as she had.
“Ivy?”
At the sound of her name, Ivy startled, dropped the magazine onto the floor and turned, white-faced, to the woman standing above her. “Dr. Kessler!”
“You sound relieved,” Suzanne Kessler remarked with an amused smile. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“You surprised me,” Ivy said, waiting for her pulse to resume a normal speed. “How’s your daughter?” It had been nearly a year since Ivy had overseen the flowers for the Kesslers’ youngest daughter’s wedding: white French tulips mixed with Queen Anne’s lace. Simple, slightly old-fashioned, but intrinsically elegant.
“Never better,” Suzanne said. “I’ve been meaning to come by the store and give you some photos from the wedding. People still stop me to comment on the centerpieces.”
Ivy couldn’t deny the pride she felt hearing this.
“In fact, I’m happy I ran into you today. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Forest Ridge Hospital puts on a fundraising event each year. It’s a big to-do; all the donors come out, there’s a silent auction, and the proceeds go exclusively to the. . .
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Love Blooms on Main Street
Olivia Miles
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