Page 23 of Love Me Not
Rattling them off on her fingers, she said, “Dahlia, delphinium, and a zinnia.”
This was no time to start speaking another language. “I kill succulents, remember? Give me something else to go on.”
Unperturbed, Becca tried again. “Bright colors like orange and deep pink. Fluffy, round, with lots of tiny petals. Then find the tall skinny ones in dark blue and purple.”
Why didn’t she say all of that to begin with? “I’m on it.”
As I ran down the steps, dress hiked up to my knees, I silently thanked the bride for allowing me to wear sneakers. At the main floor, I swung around the ornate banister and bolted through the swinging door to the kitchen into a frenzy of activity. My mouth watered from the amazing smells as I did my best to bob and weave my way past the caterers too intent on their work to notice me pass through.
Once outside, I hustled around the right corner of the house toward the area of the lawn where the ceremony would take place. Crap. There were attendees already in their seats. Without a watch or my phone, I couldn’t be sure how close we were to the start time, but we were clearly closer than I realized.
The flower-covered trellis stood at the front of the setup, where the bride and groom would stand to exchange their vows. How was I going to walk up and snatch flowers without anyone thinking I’d lost my mind? Or worse, without them stepping in to stop me?
I read once that the most successful criminals had a knack for showing complete confidence in any situation. I could do that. This was an opportunity to test my long-neglected acting skills. Besides, I wasn’t actually committing a crime. If the bride needed flower reassurance, then she would get it.
Circling around the seats, I strolled toward the trellis as if I was doing nothing more than enjoying the beautiful day. A few guests glanced my way. The full length amethyst gown wasn’t exactly subtle, but it did offer me some legitimacy to be there as an obvious member of the wedding party.
The trellis was on a slightly raised platform so even the guests in the back would be able to see the couple. All I had to do was get close enough to look like I was checking something, sneak out a few flowers, and casually walk away.
No sudden moves and definitely no running. That would be a dead giveaway.
Shoulders squared, I took on a leisurely pace until I was even with the stage. Then I turned on the inquisitive look. As if I’d spotted something that needed attention. Crossing to the trellis, I stepped up just enough to semi-hide myself behind the mass of flowers. Four plucks later, I had the booty and casually strolled off back around the crowd.
When I reached the corner of the house and finally started to breathe again, a voice behind me said, “Did you just take those flowers?”
Crappola.
Determined to play this out, I turned to find Trey Collins standing three feet away dressed in a full light-gray suit with the sun beaming off his bald head. Hopefully for him he’d applied sunscreen.
“I forgot you were coming,” I said, annoyance smothering the urgency of my mission. “Why are you here?”
“Same reason you are. For the wedding.” With a half smile, he added, “You clean up well.”
An itty bitty tiny part of my brain giggled and kicked her feet, but thankfully the saner parts were unimpressed.
“You look like someone stuffed you into that suit.”
He looked down. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn it. I should probably have it let out in a few places.”
In a lot of places. And he needed to buy a bigger shirt since the current one looked to be choking him. “Are you going to answer my question?”
Trey looked up. “You answer mine first. Why are you stealing flowers?”
“I’m not stealing flowers, but if I were, it would be none of your business.”
Undeterred, he slid his hands into his pockets, straining the jacket even tighter across his shoulders. “I watched you walk up to that trellis and pluck those flowers that are in your hand. Or are you going to tell me there aren’t any flowers in your hand?”
What was it to him if I did steal flowers? Which I didn’t.
“Are you the flower police?”
“Nope, just curious.”
He wasn’t the only one. “If you saw someone else take those flowers, would you be harassing them right now? Or am I special?”
“I’d still be curious, but pestering someone else wouldn’t be as fun as pestering you.”
Dang it. Brutal honesty and unapologetic poking were two of the rare traits I found attractive. The man was speaking my love language, which meant this conversation needed to end immediately.