She’s a lucky woman.
His eyes skim the front of the black sweater I’m wearing. “What’s your name?”
That’s not a question I’m asked often since I usually have a nametag pinned to my chest, but this sweater and sharp objects don’t play well together.
“Athena.”
“Nice.” He flashes me a smile. “I’m Wolf.”
“Wolf?” I question back because that has to be a nickname. “Your name is Wolf?”
His hand jumps to his chin. Smoothing his fingertips over his beard, he huffs out a laugh. “It is. I’m Liam Wolf.”
“Liam,” I repeat his first name because it suits him perfectly in some abstract, unexplainable way.
The breadth of his shoulders and his height make him intimidating to look at, but his eyes and the warmth in his voice tell a different story.
I’m running a business, so I go to the heart of the matter. “What kind of flowers are you thinking of?”
“Whatever takes your breath away,” he says.
Never mind the flowers; that statement did the trick.
Speechless, I stare at him.
He bows his chin. “I’m looking for an arrangement that will surprise the hell out of my girlfriend. It has to be unique. Do you think you can handle that, Athena?”
I can handle anything, even creating beautiful bouquets for men like him to give to other women.
“I’m up for the job.” I smile.
Sliding a credit card and a sealed envelope toward me, he takes a pause. “Her name and address are written on there. I need that and the flowers sent to her today.”
All of my deliveries have already gone out, and it’s nearing five o’clock.
“My delivery cut-off is at two.” I glance down at the large silver watch on his wrist. “I can have this in her hands tomorrow.”
“It has to be today.” He leans both of his palms on the counter. “I’ll pay extra if you can get it to her before eight.”
Who am I to stand in the way of true love? I have nothing planned for tonight, so I do my good deed for the day. “I can take it to her personally. No extra charge.”
His eyes scan my face. “If you can make that happen, I’ll be forever in your debt.”
I set to work writing out an invoice for an ela
borate arrangement of the most expensive flowers I have in stock. If I’m going to do this tonight, I might as well do it right. I hope the woman on the receiving end of the bouquet and the note realizes just how lucky she is.
“You’ll confirm once they’re in Wren’s hand?”
I glance at the front of the envelope and the masculine handwriting.
Even the way he writes his girlfriend’s name is sexy.
WREN HOLSON.
Beneath it is an address in Tribeca.
My gaze shifts to his handsome face. “The recipient usually confirms the delivery in a phone call or text to the sender.”