Free The Singles by Emily Snow

talked about everything from my job to the improvements my landlord was making to my apartment, until I’d finally stopped him and warily asked if he planned on using all my information.
    “ I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted something from you ,” he had brazenly informed me, winking up at me as he tightened a lug nut with the tire iron. “ I could crack your computer from my phone. If I wanted to. ”
    To date, I was one hundred percent certain he’d never tried, so I nodded at my best friend. “Ahhh, I see. I’ll be in the bath if you need me.”
    She shook her head and jabbed her finger toward the living room. “Coffee table,” she said, before snorting at something August said and replying, “Are you kidding me? I can get it done in a week!”
    Expecting mail, I turned on my heel and crept back toward the living room. The sight of the stunning, floral arrangement waiting on the coffee table stopped me in my tracks. Snow-white lilies and vivid blue-dyed roses.
    How had I missed these when I came in?
    The strange, sexy combination brought a splash of color to the neutral room. When I blinked, an image of cornflower blue eyes and a sinful grin slunk into my mind. I didn’t even try to fight the intense shiver that ran through me when I let his name wrap around my thoughts.
    Oliver.
    He was the only person I could think of who knew my address, and who might send me flowers, but I’d chalked up his radio silence since last Thursday to disinterest.
    Swallowing hard, I stood over the coffee table and plucked the note from the arrangement, a shock hissing through me when the back of my fingers brushed a rose and I immediately pictured Oliver again. I tried to remember the last time someone sent me a gift—not because they were a client of mine, but just because . About a year ago, the man I’d been dating gave me red roses over dinner, a week before he found out what I did for a living and subsequently ended things. But this arrangement—they were sadly a first for me this year. My hands trembled as I opened the envelope.
    Lizzie,
    I still want to know more.
    -Oliver
    Wow. Two names, six words, and my mood suddenly shifted from pensive to ... Oliver —which was a confusing combination of exasperation and desire.
    He wanted to know more .
    Even though I knew that likely had everything to do with what was beneath my dress, and nothing to do with the what, when, or why of Lizzie Connelly, his words set my skin on fire.
    “I just ordered a pizza, and.... Damn, Gem, you look like you’re about to combust,” Pen spoke up, dragging my focus from the card to where she was now standing behind the armchair.
    “Combust?” I managed unsteadily, grateful for her intrusion. If she hadn’t said anything, I’d have probably kept rereading the note, continued looking at the flowers.
    “Would you have preferred I asked you about the current state of your underwear?” When I glowered at her, she smiled suggestively. “So, you already have a suitor other than the mystery caller who dragged your ass out here? Impressive. Very impressive.”
    I folded the note and shoved it back into the tiny envelope. “For starters, the mystery guy who called me is definitely not a suitor. If anything he’s the bane of my existence.” Running my fingers through my long platinum hair, I sunk down in the leather cushions of the couch behind me. I looked up at Pen, confusion clouding my expression. “Oliver Manning asked me to dinner,” I confessed.
    “And I think my panties just melted.”
    I’d successfully tiptoed around the subject of Oliver and had even brushed off going into details about the gift card situation last week, and the grin on my best friend’s face reminded me why.
    “Pen,” I groaned, and she held up her hands defensively.
    “Whatever. Okay, so he asked you to dinner. Why not just go with him?”
    Realizing that I was still clutching his note, I dropped it beside the flowers. “I don’t need the distraction. I