Free Blue Roses by Mimi Strong Page A

the flower shop?
    He responds immediately: No. Why?
    I frown at the phone. I should be glad he replied, but this isn’t the sort of sweet, romantic message I was hoping for.
    Me: Some blonde chick was just in here staring at me.
    I wait five minutes for a response and don’t get one.
    The door chimes again. I look up, expecting to see Luca, coming to surprise me with something thoughtful.
    Instead, I get the blonde woman.
    This time she walks right up to me and points the screen of her phone at my face.
    “Did you make this?” she asks.
    There’s a photo of flowers on the screen. I recognize the raffia tie from our regular supply. More importantly, I recognize the extravagant arrangement. It’s the one Luca dropped a bundle on the first time we met.
    I look up into the blonde’s ice blue eyes. She’s older than me, maybe close to forty, but really pretty, like a Barbie doll.
    I answer carefully. “If it came with one of our cards, then it was either me or my coworker.”
    “I saw Luca in here two weeks ago, talking to the other girl. It was busy, and he was helping her sell flowers.”
    I nod slowly, pretending to be thinking. On the Wednesday before last, Luca was here, helping my sister sell out the store so I had Thursday off. That was our first date.
    I look down at the woman’s fingernails. They’re manicured, with those thick, gel nails. Judging by the energy coming off her, I quickly assess that she is Luca’s ex, and if she finds out he’s dating me, she’ll bury those nails in my face like ten daggers of payback.
    “I’m sorry, who?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
    She spits out his name like it’s toxic. “Luca Lowell.” She studies my face. “The other girl’s your sister, isn’t she?”
    “The one who works here? Yes.” I snap my fingers. “Oh, you mean Luca. The guy who bought the garage. He’s been getting to know some of the people who work up and down the street. Um… for business networking, I guess.”
    “You warn your sister,” she hisses.
    I take a step back, out of face-stabbing range. The counter is between us, but it’s not enough.
    “Warn her about what?”
    “You tell her that Luca Lowell is nothing but trouble. He’s a tease and a liar.”
    Her eyes widen as she stares down at something. I follow her gaze to my charm bracelet. I start to hide it behind my back, but she comes around the counter in a blur of motion and grabs my wrist.
    “What’s this?” she asks. “Is that a motorbike charm? Is this from him?”
    I yank my wrist free, and then shove her back.
    “None of your business,” I growl. “Please leave.”
    She staggers back, looking stunned, then comes at me, arms flying.
    What this woman doesn’t know, is that I can handle a fight. Both my sister and I were on the girls’ wrestling team in high school. While our friends were trying out to be cheerleaders and running around in pleated skirts, Megan and I were learning how to pin down opponents.
    The blonde doesn’t even know what hit her.
    She’s down for the count.
    The door chimes, and Luca comes rushing in to find me sitting on top of his ex-girlfriend, with her face pressed into the floor and her arm twisted up behind her back.
    “This isn’t what it looks like!” I cry out.
    He steps behind me, locks his hands under my armpits, and lifts me off the blonde.
    “Really?” he says. “Because it looks to me like you’ve got my former real estate agent in a head lock.”
    After he sets me down, he helps her to her feet.
    “I shouldn’t have come here,” she says.
    Gruffly, he says, “Leave now, and we’ll pretend you never did.”
    She hangs her head and runs for the door.
    He looks down at me, a look of admiration on his face. His blue eyes are burning bright.
    “Tina, I never knew. You’re quite the little bruiser.”
    “I’ve got some moves.” I frown over at the door, checking to make sure she’s really gone. “Who was that?”
    “A woman I deeply angered. Real estate is a tough