Free Snipped in the Bud by Kate Collins

else.
    Marco pointed his index finger at me. “You are not to say a word.”
    “I have to let them slander me like that?”
    “Yes.”
    I couldn’t do it. It went against my nature. I had to defend myself.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T he phone rang and I started to go for it, but Marco and Lottie both yelled, “No!”
    “It might be a customer.”
    “Grace will get it,” Lottie said, and sure enough, a second later we heard her answer up front. Then she stuck her head through the curtain. “Abby, dear, someone named Rob is on the line. He said he’s from a radio station and you know him.”
    “She’s not here,” Lottie said.
    “Then I shall tell him you’re out making a floral delivery.”
    “No!” all three of us yelled, startling Grace.
    “We don’t want him to call back,” Marco said. “Just say she has no comment.”
    On the radio, Rob said, “Ms. Knight is afraid to talk to us, Rick.”
    “You’re a scary guy, Rob,” Rick joked. “Okay, folks, this notice was just handed to me. Looks like there’s another protest rally in the works, this one organized by a group of Carson Reed’s students. You’ll never guess where they’re going to march, Rob.”
    “I know this one. In front of Abby Knight’s flower shop.”
    “You got it. Okay, folks, you heard it here. There will be a gathering of Professor Carson Reed’s students at Bloomers, on the town square.”
    Marco shut off the radio. In the front, we could hear Grace on the phone, deflecting calls. Another line lit up, so Lottie answered it at my desk, forcing herself to say in her usual cheerful manner, “Bloomers.” She listened briefly, then said, “She doesn’t have any comment,” and hung up. “That was a reporter from the New Chapel News .”
    The ringing started again and two more lines lit up. “I’ll get those up front,” Lottie said and hurried through the curtain.
    When I let out a heavy sigh, Marco started rubbing my back. “You’ll survive this, Sunshine.”
    “How?” I muttered. “I can’t defend myself. I have to keep a low profile.”
    “You don’t need to defend yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. As soon as the police arrest their suspect, you’ll be vindicated.”
    “I hope so.”
    “Hey, with Dave and Lottie and Grace on your side, not to mention yours truly, how can you go wrong?”
    I lifted my head to gaze into those gorgeous brown eyes and smiled in spite of myself. “Thanks.”
    “No problem. Now, let’s rehearse your line: ‘No comment.’”
    “No comment,” I repeated dutifully, walking my fingers up his arm. It was impossible to think seriously for very long with him that close.
    “Good. Remember it.”
    “Want to permanently etch it in my brain?”
    He gave me that little grin. “Try me.”
    I put my hands on his face and guided him in for a two-point landing on my lips. This time we made it with no interruptions, only bliss. Marco’s lips were firm and smooth as they moved against mine, and his mouth had the salty, creamy taste of butter that made me hungry for more—kisses, not butter.
    “Did that do the trick?” he asked, giving me that sleepy-eyed gaze that drove me wild.
    I traced a fingertip across his iron jaw. “For now. I might need a refresher later, though.”
    “Why don’t you come down to the bar after you lock up tonight. We’ll have supper and I’ll fill you in on what I learned from Reilly. And then”—he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively—“more etching.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me.”
    As I parted the curtain so Marco could walk out, several customers spotted me and clamored, “There she is! Hey, Abigail, over here!”
    One woman waved money, while another shouted, “I want to place an order.”
    “I was next,” another woman said and tried to elbow past her.
    “I’m right behind her.”
    “Hey, Abby, remember me? I’m a friend of your mother’s.”
    “Escape while you still can,” I whispered to Marco, then, as he warily circled the frenzied