Free Will Work For Love by Amie Denman Page B

guests. She wanted to break into the thriving local
wedding market, but her damaged shop was holding her back.
    Ella didn’t want prospective brides being turned off
by ugly exterior damage, even though they would find surprisingly
upscale arrangements if they would just step inside her small shop
just off the main street downtown. Now, with Chris’ hard work, the
outside would be a more accurate reflection of the quality of her
work.
    Chris nailed the last pieces of decorative woodwork
that he’d carefully hand-made to match the existing ones on the
island cottage. A little yellow and white paint and this would look
like Hurricane Destiny had passed over with just a kiss. As he
nailed it into place, he heard a vehicle pull up on the other side
of the shop. Of course there was nothing strange about a car
showing up at a flower shop, but he thought he caught a glimpse of
the color black out of the corner of his eye.
    He leaned back on the ladder, steadying one hand on
the corner of the building. He could only see a tiny bit of the
back bumper and rear fender of the black vehicle, but it was
unmistakable. A black Jeep. He’d be the first to admit he had
Whitney on the brain, but even so, there could be no doubt who just
pulled in to the flower shop parking lot.
    One thing about Whitney he’d already noticed was she
was not a woman who wasted time. He heard the car door shut. She
would come around the front corner of the shop in about five
seconds flat, walking with her brisk Boston pace. And he would be a
sitting duck on the ladder. She’d see him up there hammering, she’d
ask questions, and she’d discover his Blue Isle Construction truck
parked on the other side of the shop if she did any investigating
at all. And she would.
    Chris burst into action. He scrambled down the
ladder, nearly dropping his hammer into the bushes below. He heard
the crunch of feet on gravel and he didn’t even risk a glance in
that direction. Two more seconds, and he’d be around the other side
of the flower shop making a quick getaway in his truck. He could
come back for the ladder later when the coast was clear.
    He dove into his truck, turned the key in the
ignition, and pulled the door shut as the truck was already in
motion. The sudden burst of activity sent streaks of pain through
his already aching head. He drove up the street out of sight and
parked under a shade tree. Chris leaned against the worn vinyl seat
and let out a long slow breath. He closed his eyes and tried to
ease the tension in his shoulders and neck, hoping his headache
would ease up.
    It was cowardly, really cowardly, to run away from
facing Whitney and admitting who he was. If he really cared about
her, he’d have to be honest. The problem was being honest would
kill any chance of a relationship with her because she would
probably tear him to shreds for not fixing up her wedding venue
when he should have.
    There was the little issue of her wedding, too, that
could reasonably stand in the way of a relationship with her…but
something about it just didn’t seem quite right. It was confusing
and the mixed signals were flashing from both directions. He
couldn’t help the feeling that he had his hand on a light switch,
but he just needed to turn it on to see something that should be
right in front of him.
    He wasn’t going to find out this morning, that was
for sure. He was going to go home and have a nap. Either the
headache was going, or he was. After, he’d head out to East Pointe
and begin his mission to save Blue Isle by doing the work he was
supposed to do in the first place.
    ****
    Whitney had to drag herself out of bed that morning.
She had a ten o’clock appointment with the florist she was barely
going to be on time for. If she hurried. But that wasn’t the only
thing on her agenda. Blue Isle Construction would be getting a
phone call from her this morning, too. And she was in no mood to be
nice.
    Despite her happiness for her friend Taylor,