I hummed and walked away, letting those words sink in as I touched the tip of an Easter lily.
This was my business.
My business.
My training was geared toward landscaping and growing stock in a greenhouse. In Oregon. Now I was the owner of a floral shop in a desert. Clueless was the word that popped into mind.
My business needed a Marty.
I needed an ally.
Because so far, my few interactions with Brody had been . . . strained.
Even after our conversation by the pool, Brody had avoided me most of the day yesterday. I’d had plenty to keep busy. All of the boxes I’d brought from Oregon had been unpacked. I’d spent a nice chunk of time with Clara and August. The only time I’d seen him had been at dinner.
Brody had been seated alone at the dining room table, his meal before him, his attention on his phone. We’d exchanged a glance. I’d smiled. He’d nodded and asked me how I was feeling. Then I’d retreated to my room to sleep.
This morning I’d woken up at five. With nothing to do and my anxiety about today’s visit to the shop going at full steam, I wandered around the house, trying to rid myself of nervous energy while getting oriented with the different hallways and rooms.
The noise of leather smacking leather and a few sharp breaths had stopped my feet. I’d entered Brody’s part of the house. He’d been in his home gym, a space twice as large as my Oregon condo.
He’d been at a punching bag, beating the hell out of the swinging cylinder, wearing only a pair of shorts. His back and shoulders had glistened with sweat. His tennis-shoe-clad feet had skipped, light and fast like grasshoppers, over the red cushioned mat.
I’d stayed at the doorway, watching him until he’d finally dropped his gloved hands. Before he could catch me spying, I’d ducked out of sight. But not before catching a glimpse of those washboard abs in the wall of mirrors.
The man’s body was a work of art. Chiseled and powerful. Graceful and strong. Brody was incredible in a suit. Truly mouthwatering. But this morning, barely clothed, I’d nearly orgasmed from the sight alone.
Pregnancy hormones were going to be a bitch.
An hour later, he’d found me in the kitchen, eating at the island. Ron, who doubled as butler and chef, had cooked me a feast. Spinach and egg white omelet. Fruit and yogurt parfait. Fresh squeezed orange juice and a homemade bran muffin.
Brody had shown up—protein shake in hand—with a set of keys and a folder full of codes and passwords. The garage, the internet, the security system. After giving me the rundown, he’d disappeared.
An hour ago, he’d summoned me to his office via text, where he’d had the official buy-sell agreement for the floral shop waiting. Clara had been there, smiling on, as I’d signed on the bottom line.
Then she’d stayed home to wait for August to get done with school for the day, while Brody had brought me here.
Welcome Floral was closed on Mondays, something I’d be changing soon enough. But today, I was glad for it. I didn’t need a customer coming in during my initial meet and greet with Marty.
The door chimed behind us, and a man in his fifties with a bald head and tortoiseshell glasses perched on his freckled nose walked inside. His green, short-sleeved button-down was undone nearly to his sternum. Whatever hair he lacked on his head he made up for with curly grays peeking out from above his heart.
“Marty.” Brody extended his hand. “Good afternoon.”
“Afternoon.” Marty’s gaze traveled my way. He looked me up and down, taking in my black skinny jeans and white Adidas shoes.
The pants I couldn’t button anymore, but I’d secured the button to its hole with an elastic hair tie. My flowy white tee was covered with a thick cream cardigan because Welcome was cold today. To my delight, my winter wardrobe, sans snow boots, wouldn’t be completely pointless in Arizona.
“Hi.” I crossed the space for the door, my hand outstretched for Marty. “I’m Aria Saint-James.”
“Marty Mathers.” He shook my hand, then straightened his shoulders. “I’ve worked here for seven years. I specialize in floral design, but I also take care of the ordering. I’m willing to do delivery if necessary, though there’s a young lady who’s been doing it for the past year and she’d like to keep her job. So would I.”
“This isn’t an interview.” I gave Marty my warmest smile. “Well, maybe it is. I guess I assumed today you’d interview me and decide if you wanted to stick around and help me get my feet wet.”
Marty blinked. “Oh.”
Time would tell if Marty was the right fit for my long-term vision. But I’d be stupid to let him go. If the previous owners had trusted him and he’d run this place for Brody since the business had shifted hands, that was good enough for me.
“I’d like that,” Marty said, relief washing over his face.
“Good.”
“Water?” He pointed toward the far wall. “My throat is a little dry.”
“Please and thank you.”
He smiled, revealing a little gap between his front teeth, then he moved past me and disappeared into the shop.
“Phew.” I blew out a long breath and pressed a hand to my heart. “That went okay.”
“Marty’s a good guy. At least, that’s what my business manager said. She’s been working with him, checking in and such, during the transition. Marty pretty much does it all around here. I think you two will get along.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Brody said, taking his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be in the car. Take your time.”
“Thanks.” I nodded as he walked out the door, giving his backside a thorough inspection.
Broad shoulders. Long, powerful legs. His suit jacket covered his ass. Damn. But at least I had this morning’s mental image to call up and appreciate.
“He’s something, isn’t he?”
I jumped at Marty’s voice. While I’d been ogling Brody, he’d returned with two mugs. Both brimmed with water. “Pardon?”
“Here.” Marty handed me my cup. It was white and hand painted with small, bright flowers. I’d noticed the same on a display table, each selling for fifteen dollars. “He’s something. Brody.”
“Oh.” Busted. “He’s . . . handsome enough.”
“You were undressing him with your eyes, my darling. I get it.” Marty laughed. “My husband and I both have him on our cheat list.”
“You have a cheat list?”
“Of course. Why would you not have a cheat list? We know Brody’s straight but my mother always said I had a penchant for grand delusions.”
I giggled. “Good to know.”
“Now come on back to the table so we can sit down. Then you’re going to tell me all about yourself, Aria Saint-James.”
“I’d like that.”
Two hours later, I walked out of the floral shop with a beaming smile.
The moment he spotted me, Brody hopped out of his car and rounded the hood, meeting me at the passenger door. “How’d it go?”
“Great.” I was so happy I could cry. “I love Marty.”
Time had flown talking to him. Hilarious and honest and dedicated to the shop and our customers, Marty was exactly the kind of person I needed by my side. When I’d told him I was pregnant, he’d immediately assured me I could count on him to run the shop during my maternity leave. Then he’d listened intently and followed me around the shop as I’d rambled ideas.