That night she didn’t go to his dock.
Or the next night.
The following morning she was called in to work for a local florist. The owner was Alexa, Lucas’s sister. Not wanting to turn down the work, Sophie hoofed it over there.
Alexa sat behind the counter. Once upon a time she’d been nice and kind to Sophie, but that had stopped during her contentious divorce. Alexa didn’t greet her, just pointed to the huge bouquet on the counter. “Needs to get up to the resort, like, ten minutes ago. You’re going to have to rush it.”
“To rush it, I’ll need to borrow a car,” Sophie said.
Alexa sighed. “You haven’t gotten your own car yet?”
“I had my own car,” Sophie said. “Your brother stole it.”
“My brother bought it. You divorced him, Sophie. You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too.” But she pulled out a set of keys. “My Lexus. Take better care of it than you did your husband.”
Biting her tongue, Sophie took the flowers and the keys. She glanced at the order slip and was shocked at how much Alexa was charging these days. She got the niggling thought that she could have supplied the flowers far cheaper and with better service too.
She drove up to the resort, and carrying the flowers, made her way to the offices and asked for Kenna Kincaid, to whom the flowers were addressed, along with a card that said simply:
Give me another chance…Best, Mitch
Men, Sophie thought with an eye roll, and had to laugh to herself when Kenna Kincaid came out of an office and approached the bouquet like it was a lit fuse.
Seemed she wasn’t the only one with man troubles.
“Hell,” Kenna muttered. “It’d better not be from—” She let out a whoosh of air when she read the card. “Shit. It is.”
Sophie smiled. “I’m guessing these flowers aren’t going to get your guy out of the doghouse.”
“He’s not my guy, although he lives in the doghouse.” She picked up the flowers and dumped them into the trash bin on the side of the counter. “Don’t take that personally,” she said.
“Nope,” Sophie said. “I’m just the delivery girl. Is Mitch as big a jerk as my ex?”
Something crossed Kenna’s face. Guilt? “No,” she said finally. “He’s not a jerk at all. We had an accidental one-night thing not too long ago and…well, he’s just way too sure. And I’m not sure. I’m planning on keeping him on his toes for a while until I sort stuff out in my head. That’s the secret, I think, keeping a guy on his toes.”
“Seems safer to do without,” Sophie said. “Smarter too.”
“Maybe.” Kenna shrugged. “Probably. But I’m not all that smart when it comes to men.”
“Hear, hear,” Sophie said, and turned to go.
“Oh, wait. While you’re here, can we book your services for the Wounded Warriors event?”
“Yes, of course,” Sophie said. “Just call the temp agency.”
“You’re still with them? I thought maybe you were running your own gig.”
Sophie felt something shift from deep within her. “No,” she said slowly, thinking how much the idea, one that had been lurking lately, appealed to her. “I’m not running my own concierge service.” She paused. “Yet.”
Kenna smiled. “Keep me up to date on that.”
“Oh, I most definitely will.” Sophie started to go, then hesitated. “Listen, I know Jacob’s hugely private, but there’s someone I bet he’d love to see at the Wounded Warriors event.” And then, hoping she wasn’t crossing a line, she told Kenna about Chris Marshall, how he’d been injured in the same explosion that had killed Brett.
Kenna didn’t speak for a long moment, and Sophie took a step back. “You know what? Scratch that. I shouldn’t have said anything. I—”
“Shut the front door.” Kenna grabbed her hand, lifting her face to Sophie’s. Her eyes were misty. “I’m so very glad you said something,” she said fiercely. “If Chris Marshall’s stateside, my brother Hud will find him.”
Sophie nodded. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you.” Kenna’s voice was soft and a little watery. “It’s so good to have him back, you know? But he’s still struggling with it a little bit. We could use all the help we can get to reach him.”
Before she could ask what that meant, a guy came out of one of the offices wearing a cop uniform, and Sophie’s mind stuttered to a halt.