Page 32 of Demon On Deck

I let him pull me down and wrap my arm around his waist—well, as much as I can. “If you’re sure. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I yawn, eyes already drifting closed.

Evren engulfs me in his strong arms, holding me close. I swear I can hear him whisper just as I fall under sleep’s spell, “I’m sure I want you to stay forever.”

Chapter 12

Seeds of Doubt

KALLIE

“Bloomhaus, Kallie speaking.”

“Hi, Callie. This is George Marco, the owner of The Grocery Spot.”

I set the floral sheers and carnations I’d been making into a fun flower “ice cream” float to the side so I can give my full attention to George. The Grocery Spot is one of the larger stores in Raven’s Hollow, with two locations on either side of the downtown area.

“Hi, Mr. Marco, how can I help you?” I say in what I like to think of as my professional boss bitch voice.

“George, please. Well, it’s a funny story. My wife stopped into Carlan’s on her way home from work the other day. Went into another man’s grocery store instead of her own husband’s, can you believe that?” He chuckles.

I laugh myself, playfully saying, “Oh, the betrayal.”

“Right,” he laughs again. “But I’m not calling about my darling wife’s poor choices. While she was at that other store, she picked up a few flower arrangements for our house. Absolutely raved about how beautiful and creative they were. She loved them so much, she mentioned going back. Now you can understand, I just can’t have that. What would the other grocers say? I have an image to protect.”

I try to muffle my snort of laughter as I picture a group of grocery store owners all wearing their store aprons, gossiping around a display of watermelon.

“I’m sure it would cause quite a stir,” I manage to get out.

George huffs out a laugh. “Exactly. So, I partook in a bit of espionage.” He says conspiratorially.

I suck in a mock breath of shock and awe. “Oh goodness, George.”

“It’s true. I called and pretended to be a customer and asked them where the flowers came from.”

“Very clever,” I say, sensing where this conversation is going and smiling.

“Thank you,” he says cheerily. “Once I discovered the source of the flowers, I, of course, looked you up. Clearly, I can’t have my wife going to Carlans’ for your flowers, so I wanted to reach out and discuss carrying Bloomhaus arrangements at both Grocery Spots.”

Holy. Shitballs. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale.

For the next hour, in between customers and call-in orders, I speak with Mr. Marco—George—about the business agreement I have with Carlan’s and FreshMart. We end the call with an agreement for me to send over the contracts for him to look over and schedule a follow-up call next week.

I’m through the roof excited and want to call Evren and Mel immediately, but I’ve got the float and the rest of the FreshMart order to finish. As soon as I get those completed, I’ll call.

An hour later, that plan gets derailed by the bell over the door chiming. I’m seriously regretting my decision to give Grey the day off.

“Welcome to Bloomhaus! I’ll be right with you!” I call from the back of the shop. Thankfully, my shop is small. There’s a small front area with a few displays, a stand with grab-and-go arrangements, and two coolers about the size of two large refrigerators next to the checkout counter. The back is a galley-style work area with counters and shelving lining both walls. The narrow walkway leads to the large back cooler, which holds all the processed flowers and arrangements ready to go out for delivery or pick-up.

“Thanks,” comes a short, feminine voice that is just north of the edge of annoyance. I place the last of the FreshMart orders into the back cooler and head out the doorway to the main shop.

And then nearly trip on air.

Jackson Frost, International Supernatural hockey player, in all his ridiculously tall, sexy glory, is looking at a display of succulents with a curvy strawberry blonde on his arm. The descendant of the Jack Frost is a tall drink of water with lean muscles and alluring moonstone skin.

Drool worthy? Absolutely. But he’s no Evren.

I’m not a sports girl by any means, but even I know of Jackson Frost and the Crimson Reign. They moved here not long ago after the massive tournament the city hosted. Our city fell in love with the team, and they fell in love with the city. After the tournament concluded, they relocated and brought an amazing influx of business with them.

Once I regain control of my momentary drool moment, I don my best smile and hope I don’t sound like a star-struck loon.