Text Me Part 5

He lifted the money plant to the counter along with the philodendron. "Just curious, what happened with your blind date the other night? Did you ever figure out why he didn't show?"

Yikes. Am I really going to lie to him again? No, it's time he knows the truth. After all, it's not my fault he texted. I just ... answered. Tell him. NOW.

Carter dug into his wallet for cash. "So, have you heard anything more from Amanda, our friendly lying, cheating ex-girlfriend? Does she want me back yet? Did she ask about me?"

Okay, maybe not. He'd hate me and he's obviously still into her. Abby cleared her throat and shot a quick glance at the sky for forgiveness.

"No. The blind date did show, though. I was with you."

Chapter Eight.

Carter wanted to smile but didn't. Would it be wrong to high-five a woman for getting ditched by a blind date? Probably.

"He saw us and left?"

"Not exactly."

It would have helped if he could read her expression but her back was turned. She was pressing keys and scanning the barcode on his plants.

"Well, did you tell him you were there? Did you set up another time to meet?" He grimaced and pretended to sympathize. "What kind of man just leaves without at least trying?"

Her shoulders hefted up and down as she slammed the drawer shut with his money inside. She held out a hand and dropped change into his palm. "Water these guys once a week. Keep them out of direct sunlight, maybe near a window but not right in front of it. There's some plant food in the soil already, but you'll need to add more in three months. Other than that, they should do great."

He lifted the plants and anch.o.r.ed one on each hip, realizing he'd made a slight tactical error. It was two blocks to his car and they were beyond bulky. Should have picked smaller pots. If he could get them there without dropping them, they'd have to hang out the window for the short drive to his apartment.

Abby glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. "Uh-oh, I'm late! Not exactly the best way to make an impression." She walked him toward the door in a rush. "Sorry, I have to close up."

"Another blind date?"

"No. Something much more important. A wedding."

Huh, what? He jerked to attention and she rushed to gather flowers into a box. Oh, of course-a wedding delivery. He stood outside the window, watching for a second, until one of the pots slipped from his hip. He grabbed hold, trying not to let it spill as it clunked to the pavement.

"Carter, you busy this afternoon?" Abby stood in the doorway, her black hair hanging in wisps over her eyes.

"Just getting my plants settled into their new home. Why?"

"Want to help me load this stuff into the van?" She tossed her head toward the box she'd filled.

He scooped up the dirt he'd spilled on the sidewalk, dropped it back into the pot, and wiped his hands. Going to a wedding was about the last thing he wanted to do-outside of visiting a dentist. But he guessed he could help load the truck. "Sure. No problem."

Abby grabbed one of the plants. "I'll drop you off on the way to my delivery so you won't have to carry these."

An hour later, Carter frowned at the white tablecloths and twinkling crystal above them. How he'd allowed her to talk him into helping her load and unload the flowers was a mystery. She'd been describing the place to him, talking nonstop about how exciting it was, and telling him it was her first wedding since the opening.

Then his mouth got ahead of his brain, and perhaps the stupidest thing ever leapt off his lips. "Why don't I go with you and help you get set up just to make sure it goes smoothly?"

Once the words were out, he couldn't take them back. He wanted to, but it was too late. She'd busied herself securing the plants, boxes, and ribbon before closing up the truck. When the door clanged shut and she turned, he considered a quick escape. He a.s.sumed she'd say no. She hadn't, and somehow it wasn't the least bit awkward.

That, in itself, was confusing.

"It's just a wedding, not a funeral. Don't start hyperventilating." The sc.r.a.pe of cardboard on the truck bed brought his attention back to the present, as she hefted the box of flowers and handed it to him.

He blinked. "I wasn't."

"Your face is as white as those lilies. You can leave if this weirds you out. I can manage on my own-it's not like I haven't done it before."

The comment slapped him back to reality. What was it about these things that made most guys run for the hills? He shrugged. The permanency, of course. In his experience, permanent never worked. No more than trusting-he'd tried that with Amanda-another one of Roger's stupid ideas. You need to get past what happened to your sister and trust people. Accidents happen. It's not like Carley intended to deceive everyone. Yeah, right. That's exactly what she intended. And apparently Amanda too. The woman in front of him now wasn't asking for his trust or permanency. She was simply asking for a little help. That was easy enough.

"Unless you want to drive me back, I might as well help. I'm already here and if it bothered me, I wouldn't have volunteered. You do a lot of weddings at this place?"

He glanced around the room. They were in the alcove of a historical landmark, a building that had once housed the elite socialites of Galveston. Presently, it was a museum by day, open for tourists, and available for parties after hours. An unusual but attractive site with flowers and ribbon trailed throughout.

When he turned back to Abby, she shook her head. "This is just the reception hall. The wedding is at the Catholic church, a very formal affair. We'll go there next and deliver the bouquets, corsages, and flowers for the vestibule. Can you grab the other box too? I'll get the door."

"It must get old after a while." He moved away and let her latch the door behind.

"What? Weddings?"

"The smell. You spend all day around all these and probably get tired of it. I always thought that was why girls liked flowers-because of the scent. It covered up all the ugly smells."

She grinned. "Well, that's definitely a plus but no, ah, you obviously haven't bought many of them, have you?"

Carter plunked the box on a table and began distributing the candleholders to tables. Should he tell her he'd seen enough flowers for a lifetime at family funerals? "Only when I had to."

"Flowers, candles, scented oil, room fragrances-they're all an aphrodisiac. They set the mood."

He liked the sound of that. "Mood for what exactly?"

She avoided eye contact. "Whatever. Dinner, asking for a date, going beyond the date-"

"To?"

"To whatever. A guy can't go wrong with flowers."

A deliveryman from the food caterer strode up and asked where to put his cargo. Abby pointed toward a door, stating to check there for the family. The creak of his dolly wheels across the tile broke the silence.

"Don't you notice the smell of a room or a person?" She quirked a brow as she placed the last flowers, with an ornate candelabra, at the main table. Actually, he did notice. He'd noticed her scent the minute she ran past him ages ago but never thought about it until now. Flowers, however, weren't the same.

He shook his head, not ready to make that admission. "Unless there's food involved, nope. Now, if you filled this room with eau de barbecue or maybe la scent de steak, you'd have me in a second. My heart would be full."

Abby threw a stem she'd cut from the arrangement at him and gathered the boxes. "No wonder you're single."

"What? That's not romantic?"

"Not even close. Next thing you're going to tell me is your favorite smell is sweaty gym clothes after a workout."

"Nope. After a weekend baseball game. That's the best." He took the boxes and stacked them in her truck while she fumbled for the keys. With them in hand, she tapped against his chest.

"Maybe you should try flowers with the next girl and see if it lasts longer."

He rubbed the spot she'd thumped. "Ouch." On a whim, he grabbed the hand with the keys inside and pulled her to him. He ran his cheek along her neck and sniffed. "You're a.s.suming I want it to last long. Maybe I should test your theory and see what you smell like. See if ... "

It wasn't the smell that caught him off guard. Nor was it the closeness. With his cheek against hers, the first thing he noticed was how soft she was. Amanda had been all woman, but she'd been so concerned with makeup and hair she often felt ... starched. Abby's hair was soft and wispy against his cheek, suggesting silk against his roughness. It rendered him unable to speak or move.

She stepped back and he lost his balance for a second then righted himself. The look in her eyes was mostly alarm. But there was something else. Maybe a little-fire?

He straightened his shoulders and grinned. "Nope, nada. You smell like dirt."

"And you smell like deodorant with a little sweaty gym socks thrown in." She strode to the driver's seat and hopped in the truck, waiting on him to get in the other side.

When he did, he threw his arm across the back of the well-worn seat and let his fingers rest against her shoulder. "See, you like it. It's s.e.xy, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Come on. Girls love tough men and tough men don't smell like flowers."

"Are you telling me you're a tough guy? Here? Delivering flowers with me? Shouldn't you be at a boxing match or at the gym? Besides, maybe guys aren't that into flowers-but has the deodorant thing worked for you so far? I doubt it. It never hurts to add some cologne and send flowers or gifts. Maybe you should try a different approach. "

He bristled. She had a point. "That makes two of us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her tone of voice elevated. Should he stop before he said something incredibly stupid? Besides, who was he to give love advice? He'd just been ditched for someone else.

"Now you're trying to say my blind date ditched me because I smell bad?"

"Whoa, that was a leap. Honestly, my guess would be the guy showed up, took one look at this," Carter pointed a finger at himself, "and realized he was way out of his league. He probably thought there was no way you'd go out with him after talking to me. Smell had nothing to do with it."

With both hands on the wheel, she stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Seconds ticked by. "You really believe that? That someone would look at us and think we actually belonged together?"

He winced. Of course not.

"What difference does it make? We're not."

"Not?"

"Together." He said it, but for the life of him he couldn't tear his eyes away until she started the truck and put it into gear. An awkward silence sat between them as they went to the church. He helped her carry in the boxes and waited while she distributed them. He had no desire to seek out the wedding party and intertwine himself in their day. He'd never met them, so it would have been even more uncomfortable than sitting in the truck in silence.

It didn't stop him from staring at her as she worked and that was ridiculous.

When she turned down the block toward her shop, she took her foot off the gas. "Where to?"

"Huh?"

"Your car or your apartment?"

His mouth dropped open. Was that an invitation or his perverted mind playing tricks? She pointed to the back. "For your plants. I told you I'd drop you."

Whew.

"Two blocks down on the left."

"What did you think I meant?"

It wasn't what she meant; it was what he thought that had him confused. He'd spent all of a few hours around her and, for a second, he'd actually thought she wanted s.e.x-what the h.e.l.l was wrong with him? That was like going from zero to fifty in a millisecond. Not going to happen. Not to mention he had a slight problem with commitment. An ideal problem in this situation. Quick and over might work. Could he do that?

Carter noted the meticulous way Abby managed her shop and how she'd helped him with Amanda. Her laughter and the way she'd almost cried when she looked at the wedding fiasco they just left.

Nope.

Chapter Nine.

At ten the following Monday, Abby's phone announced a series of text messages but she was tied up. Literally. She had ribbon everywhere as she readied another group of deliveries for her next wedding rehearsal. A call came in for a funeral and she switched gears to prepare a suitable wreath.

"Are you going to answer any of those messages, or do I have to listen to your phone bleep all morning?" Caroline's snarky response wasn't really impatience over the noise.

If Abby knew anything, Caroline wanted to hear the latest on Carter.

"If it bothers you that much, answer it yourself." She hadn't been serious but when Caroline dove over the counter for her purse, she squealed and intercepted.

Caroline's spiked hair ruffled as she tried to grab the device away. "Don't tell me to answer then change your mind. You know I'll do it."

"Yeah, and if I remember correctly-that's how this all started. You answered a random message from a mistaken guy and somehow I ended up in a big mess of confusion."

"You know, a lot of people would say it wasn't a mistake-in fact, if you believe in karma or fate-it was bound to happen. No mistake involved."

"Oh my G.o.d, the next thing I know you'll call yourself some type of messenger or medium. He got me all mixed up, that's all. I should never have answered. Correction. You should never have answered. He would have eventually figured it out."

Caroline grinned. "Hey, you're the one that decided to actually go to the restaurant, not me." She held up both hands and widened her eyes in a challenge. "Don't blame me if you can't hang with it."

"Hang with it? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Hang with lying my a.s.s off to the guy?" Abby whipped the phone up and scrolled through the first messages. From his friends. For some reason, she was now in a group text. Would one of them see the errant number and expose her?