Page 19 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

Grim inclines his head ever so slightly.

The woman straightens, adjusts her grip, and continues with renewed determination until she reaches the opposite curb safely.

Only then does Grim relax.

I look from him to the woman and back again.

"You're not what I thought you were."

"No."

His expression softens.

"I'm rarely what people expect."

I study him for another moment.

"Well . . . if you're going to keep wandering past my flower shop, you could always come inside for tea like a normal person."

A smile touches his face.

"I might."

"I'll consider that progress."

"So will I."

He inclines his head in farewell before disappearing into the evening mist.

I watch until I can no longer make out the dark silhouette of his coat.

For someone whose thoughts I can't hear . . .

He is becoming surprisingly easy to understand.

CHAPTER 5

LAVINIA

Icatch myself thinking about him again, which is becoming something of a problem because there are no deliveries scheduled for today, and I'm running dangerously low on rational explanations.

Not that a rational explanation would help much.

Grim simply doesn't fit.

Not in this town. Not in my carefully organized little life. Not in the old stairwell behind Belladonna Blooms where the afternoon sunlight gathers like warm cream across the steps. He feels like someone dropped into the wrong story entirely.

Then again . . .

Maybe that's why he showed up.

I've always believed people are drawn to the places that don't quite make sense. The edges. The forgotten corners. The awkward little spaces where life doesn't fit together neatly. Sometimes that's where the best things decide to happen.

Belladonna Blooms sits across from the courthouse and kitty-corner from the post office, tucked inside what used to be an old dental office before I painted it sage green and carved the sign myself. Time and weather have softened the lettering, but I rather like that. It gives the place character. The bell abovethe door has become equally weathered, clinging valiantly to the hope that someone will walk through it.

Today, however, it has very little to do.

The shop is quiet, save for me, the ghosts of old flower orders, and an unopened crate of rather tragic-looking ranunculus that spent entirely too long on a delivery truck.