Mad About You (6 page)

The Carrington-Wrights also had staff. Since Julie had arrived ten minutes ago, she’d come into contact with three servants. One looked like a butler. She didn’t realize people still employed butlers.

“Maybe orchids for the wedding, and something less formal for the rehearsal dinner,” Elise said as she poured tea for the two of them. She set Julie’s cup on the table in front of her. “We should have daytime flowers for the bridal shower.”

“Daytime flowers.” She managed to repeat it without sneering. What the hell did that mean?

Rich people
. She shook her head as she made a couple notes, thinking about what was in season and what she’d seen that could be unique. “What sort of budget am I working with here?”

Elise gave her a flat look. “We’re Carrington-Wrights.”

“Of course,” she murmured, ducking her head so the socialite wouldn’t see her roll her eyes.

A woman about Julie’s age strode into the room. She was casually dressed in yoga pants, a workout top, and flip-flops. Her dark hair was clipped back at the sides, waving halfway down her back. She wore minimal makeup and had the largest diamond Julie had ever seen on her ring finger. It was amazing that the woman could even lift her hand, the rock was so big.

“Hello, I’m the bride,” she said cheerily, extending her hand. “Alexis.”

Julie shook it, squinting at the woman. She looked awfully familiar. “Have we met before?”

“Do you do exercise videos?” Alexis asked, sitting down next to her mother.

“Not if I can help it.”

The woman laughed, a happy sound that made Julie smile. “A lot of my customers feel that way.”

“I was just telling Julie what we wanted for the wedding,” Elise said calmly, handing her daughter a cup of tea.

Alexis groaned. “Did you tell her I wanted orchids? Because I really don’t.”

“Alexis, don’t be unreasonable.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to have what I want for my own wedding.” She faced Julie. “I’d like stephanotis flowers. Mother believes they’re gaudy, but they’re beautiful and modern, just like me.”

Julie’s lips quirked. She liked Alexis. Normally she’d have told Elise that it was Alexis’s wedding and that she should have what she wanted, but she also wanted to make sure Elise had a positive impression of her. It wouldn’t do to piss off a flower competition judge. “Maybe we can do some sort of mix.”

Elise gave her a flat look.

“Or not,” Julie muttered. She turned to Alexis. “Orchids really are classic.”

“And I’m so
not
.” She frowned at her mom. “Are you really going to be difficult about this?”

“I’m not the one being difficult, darling,” Elise said with a raised brow.

Julie bit her tongue to keep quiet. It wasn’t in her nature to butt out, especially where flowers were concerned. She had opinions and wasn’t afraid to state them. Stephanotis were a better call—more unique—but Alexis wasn’t the one she needed to please here. She didn’t want an undue advantage in the competition, but she didn’t want to shoot her herself in the foot either.

Still, she tried a different tactic. “Maybe I should come back later, after you two decide what you want.”

“I know what I want.” Elise gave her a look. “We are going to have orchids.”

Alexis threw her hands in the air. “I’m not sure why you needed me here if you’re going to do whatever you want, despite my input.”

“You’re the bride, darling. You have to be involved.”

Alexis faced Julie with an I-love-her-but-she’s-impossible look.

Julie wasn’t going to get involved in this discussion even though she knew Alexis was right on so many levels. She pulled out one of her albums. “I brought a portfolio of pictures form previous events. Of course, whatever I do will be unique, different than what I’ll show you, but it’ll give you an idea of what I’m thinking.”

Elise held out her jeweled hand for the album. She flipped through the pages, her focus hawk-like. Alexis reclined and inspected her nails.

Julie pointed to the photo Elise landed on. “That’s most like what I was thinking for the wedding, but with orchids of course.”

The woman nodded and flipped the page. When she reached the end of the book, she flipped backwards to another page. “And something in this vein for the bridal shower. For the rehearsal dinner let’s go understated, like this.”

Julie leaned to look at the photo, making a mental note that she was going to need to put in an order for cream white peonies.

Elise turned to her daughter. “What do you think, darling?”

Alexis shrugged. “Whatever you want, Mom.”

Her mother obviously didn’t like that answer, because her perfect nose wrinkled. “This is your wedding, Alexis.”

“Which is why three hundred and fifty people I don’t care about were added to the guest list?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

Elise waved her hand dismissively. “We’re Carrington-Wrights. We have social obligations. Speaking of social obligations, has your brother confirmed his date for your wedding?”

“He said he was working on it.”

Elise nodded, her expression calculating.

“I don’t like that look, Mother,” Alexis said, and Julie had to agree.

“There is no look,” Elise said with deceptive casualness. “I’m just going to work on it as well. Prescott needs a little encouragement sometimes.”

“You know he hates it when anyone meddles in his life.”

“I’m his mother, darling. I earned the right to meddle after nine months of pregnancy and two years of changing diapers.”

Alexis shook her head. “I totally understand why people elope.”

Elise turned to Julie. “The bridal shower is next week, and the rehearsal dinner is three days before the wedding. Perhaps you can send some ideas for bridal bouquets as well? Alexis wants something dramatic and large.”

“Or a small bunch of pink daisies,” her daughter said as she reached for a cookie. “You know, if anyone cares about my opinion.”

Julie wanted to say she cared, but she reminded herself of the big trophy and smiled politely. Hopefully she didn’t look like she was going to puke. “I’ll get on that and send you some thoughts.”

“Fabulous.” Elise stood and shook her hand. “Thank you, Julie. I have a good feeling about this.”

If only she did, too.

The feeling that she’d let down Alexis followed her all day, so when Scott stepped into her shop that afternoon, at first she just pouted at him.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” he observed as he closed the door. “Is this a bad time?”

She set the lilies she was holding in a bucket of water and walked around the worktable. “Not if you come here and kiss me.”

“I can do that.”

She sighed, instantly happier the moment his lips touched hers. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed closer.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said between kisses. “I’ve
needed
this all day.”

“You had a hard time focusing on work too?”

“I had a hard time, period.” He brushed her hair out of her face, his hand trailing to her neck. “I was in a meeting, and I started thinking about you so when everyone got up to leave I had to wait unless I wanted to embarrass myself.”

She chuckled, feeling the tension ease under his massaging fingers. “That’d be inconvenient.”

“You have no idea.” He lifted her chin. “Tell me you were just as bad.”

She nodded, her throat oddly full of emotions. “I have a wedding I’m doing and I kept putting myself in the bride’s place.”

“Are you wearing underwear under your wedding gown?”

She laughed. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, and it was oddly peaceful. She snuggled closer and sighed. “Thank you.”

“You feel better?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“Definitely.”

“Want to tell me what happened?”

She sighed again. “I let the bride down by siding with her mother. I never do that, not unless the bride is insane.”

“This bride was somewhat sane, I guess.”

“I actually liked her. That’s unheard of.” She lifted her head to look at him. “Have you ever compromised your beliefs in business? To get something you wanted.”

He gazed at her steadily. “I try to stay true to what I believe is right, but that said, you do what you need to do in order to achieve your objectives. It’s business.”

She pursed her lips as she thought about that. “I didn’t really do anything but stay out of an argument between my client and her daughter.”

“My mother and sister combat all the time.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s generally accepted that Mom wins.”

“There wasn’t even anything to win. It was only a difference in taste. Neither choice was bad.”

“So then there really was no problem, right?”

“I guess.” But there was, because normally she would’ve said something to support Alexis and she didn’t.

“In any case, there’s nothing you can do now, is there?” He took her hand. “Will it hurt business if you close early today? I have a craving for one of the almond croissants at Grounds for Thought.”

“Let’s go.” She grabbed her coat and flipped the lights off. As she locked the door, she said, “I never play hooky.”

“Ever?” Scott took her hand and led her away.

“I don’t usually have a reason to. Besides, I love work.” She glanced at him. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist.”

“But you didn’t pursue that?”

She shook her head. “I was awful at drawing. Picasso cringed from beyond the grave at my paintings. But I discovered I had a strange talent for putting flowers together and making them look like something more than a handful of weeds. More than that, I loved doing it. Go figure.”

“I wanted to be a garbage man when I was a kid,” he said as he opened the door to the café.

“No, you didn’t.” She grinned at him.

“I loved the trucks.” He led them to the counter, his hand on the small of her back. “Want to choose a table while I order?”

“Sure.” She picked a small, round table in the back corner, where there were two high-backed chairs. She didn’t know Eve, the owner of the café, well, but Julie figured the woman wouldn’t care if she moved the table and rearranged the chairs closer. Eve was always so sunny and pleasant—it was hard imagining her getting bent out of shape about anything.

She sat and watched Scott charm the barista. Some people wielded their magnetism like a weapon—like Sophie. Julie could tell Scott was just being friendly. It didn’t hurt that he was so attractive.

He joined her, hands full with cups and plates. “I got an almond croissant. How could I not? It’s my favorite. But I also got a chocolate one, because I was assured it’d make me feel like I was in Paris.”

She smiled at his enthusiasm as he sat down. “Do you want to be in Paris?”

“Will you be there?” He slid a tiny cup of espresso close to her.

“I’ve never been to Paris.” She picked up the coffee and sipped. Bitter. Trying not to make a face, she set it back down.

“I have a love-hate relationship with Paris,” he said as he cut both croissants into smaller pieces. “When I arrive there, I can’t remember why I go. The trip is long, the people are hard to crack, and it’s crowded. But then I take a nap and visit my favorite
patisserie
for an almond croissant. I talk to the baker about how his children have grown, and he slips a strawberry tart in my bag when his wife isn’t looking, and then I remember why I love it there.”

She tried to imagine, but she had no frame of reference beyond her impression of Paris from movies. Actually, she’d never even been outside California.

“I’d love to show Paris to you.” He offered her some of the pastries. “You’ll love the
Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris
, and there’s a tiny restaurant in St. Germaine that I want to take you to. And you have to see the
Jardins des Plantes
, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, even though she didn’t understand half of what he said.

He took her hand. “We’ll stroll down the Seine at night, and stop for ice cream at Berthillon. Do you like ice cream?”

She shrugged, playing with the piece of croissant in her hand. She tried to imagine herself there, walking wherever it was he said, but she couldn’t. The only place she could see herself was in her shop, snipping the ends of flower stalks. “It sounds like you know Paris really well.”

“I go there pretty often, mostly for business but I always manage to sneak a little pleasure in.” He winked at her.

Realizing she was making a total mess, she put the bit of pastry she was decimating back on the plate. She tried to smile back, but she felt oddly disconnected from him.

She didn’t travel. She didn’t dress nicely. She didn’t wear an obviously expensive watch like he did. Her haircuts came from her garden sheers when her bangs became too long, not a fancy salon. She’d never had a manicure, and neither had she ever owned a passport. “Are you sure about this?” she blurted.

“This?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Do you mean us?”

“It’s just”—she bit her lip, wanting him so badly that she really didn’t want to point out how different they were—”I don’t travel much. I have my shop.”

“I understand.” His thumb caressed her palm. “It’s your passion. But maybe I can convince you to take a few days here and there with me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

She hummed noncommittally.

He sobered. “You’re serious. Are you having second thoughts about us?”

“It just seems like we’re on separate paths in life.”

“And paths converge.” He leaned toward her, conviction in his direct gaze. “Julie, I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you. I know we’re different, but we connect. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

“I do, but—”

“The rest is unimportant.” He squeezed her hand. “I know we’re going to have to make compromises to make this work, but what’s important here is you and me. This doesn’t happen every day.”

“This?” she asked.

“This.” He tugged her forward and kissed her.

The kiss whispered through her, soft but strong. It pushed all her misgivings into deep, dark corners, leaving only the crazy desire that he sparked in her.