My marketing efforts have been hit or miss. Jeremy Weston, my oldest brother, is always pitching new ideas to me. Most of them are fantastic, but some are better suited to selling vodka, not flowers.
Jeremy owns Rizon Vodka.
He understands that market. I have a pulse on this one. Together, we’re learning what does and doesn’t work when it comes to finding our niche in the oversaturated Manhattan florist scene.
When Al came to me with an idea for an online ad, I was skeptical, but once I saw the design and listened to Leanna’s thoughts on our target market, it all made sense.
The steady stream of orders coming in today is proof of that.
“I’ll take this one.” Leanna taps her fingernail on the screen. “You’re the daisy whisperer so that one is yours.”
I toss my head back in laughter. “What does that even mean?”
“It means daisies aren’t my favorite.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed.”
“What did daisies ever do to you?”
“Al’s second wife loved them,” she scoffs. “He brought me a bouquet on our first date and told me as much.”
Biting back a smile, I shake my head. “Bad Al.”
“He’s damn lucky I let that slide.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder toward the cooler. “You’re on daisy duty. Hop to it, Boss Lady. These orders won’t fill themselves.”
***
Hours later, I finally set myself down on a wooden stool.
This is the first day in months that I haven’t taken a lunch break. I made time for two bites of an apple. I kept hydrated with small sips from my water bottle every hour, but almost all of my focus was on flowers.
Leanna offered to stay past three, but
I practically pushed her out the door.
Her mom lives in same building as she does, but I could tell that she was anxious to get home in time to greet her kids at the crosswalk in front of their school.
The ring of the bell over the shop door pulls me back to my feet.
I smooth my hand over my hair. I bunched it into a topknot mid-afternoon. No one who comes into Wild Lilac is focused on how I look. I don’t want them to be. The flowers are the stars of the show.
“Hello again.”
I turn at the sound of that voice. It’s so deep and melodic.
Locking eyes with Liam Wolf, I smile. “Hi.”
He traded in the jeans and T-shirt he was wearing earlier for a pair of charcoal gray pants and a black sweater.
Anything looks good on him.
The man is a sight for my very tired eyes.
He’s invaded my thoughts throughout the day. I stole a glance at my phone from time-to-time waiting for a text from Liam to let me know when he’d stop by to pick up the bouquet he ordered. The two texts he sent me early this morning were straightforward. He apologized for unwittingly thrusting me into the middle of what he called ‘ an uncomfortable situation .’
With a shake of my head, I snap back to the reality that I’m staring at a guy who had his heart crushed less than twenty-four hours ago.
“How did you make out with the sunshine bouquet?” His gaze trails over my shoulder to the coolers. “Tell me that’s not the arrangement you made for my mom.”
Without needing a peek, I know exactly what arrangement he’s talking about. It’s Leanna’s handiwork. She prepared the centerpiece for a sunset wedding tomorrow. Al agreed to deliver it to the venue after he drops his wife off at work in the morning.