Deviation (Deviate Series) (15 page)

Dani Morales is a native Texan currently residing in Las Vegas, Nevada with her three boys and her mother.  She adopted the boys in December of 2011 and loves spending every minute playing with them. On her spare time you can find a book in her hand or sitting in front of the computer typing out storie
s that run rampant in her mind.

Other titles by this author includes her debut NA Paranormal Romance
Entrelacen.

Where to find Dani Morales

www.DaniMoralesAuthor.blogspot.com

Twitter: @
DaniMorales413

Facebook:
Dani Morales, Author

Goodreads:
Dani Morales

Here is an exclusive excerpt from Rachel Walter’s
A Message of Flowers.
It’s her first New Adult Contemporary Romance due out the Fall of 2013.

Chapter 1

White Carnations – Innocence, faithfulness, sweet and lovely, pure love, ardent love, woman’s good luck.

             
Placing a white carnation next to a colored carnation of my own, I smile. I’m not sure where the white ones came from, but they make for a beautiful arrangement that I’ll leave on display in the window.

             
“Who’s that for?” A male voice pulls me from my work.

I place the last white carnation into the vase and spin it so it looks right from all angles. “This is actually for no one in particular, Sid.” I shrug to my best friend and employee.

“Come on, G,” he coaxes, using my nickname for effect.

I sigh. “I’m just puttin’ it together. They’re
my
flowers, so who cares why I arrange them?”

“Yes, I’m well aware who my boss is,” he deadpans. “I’ve seen you at work, and I’ve
seen you work
. There’s a difference.” He raises a brow, daring me to challenge him.

I blow out a breath and side step him, placing the vase on the wide windowsill. “When I left my house this morning, there were four white carnations on my porch.” I shrug. “There was no note either, so I just brought them here. And I can’t sell them ‘cause they’re not mine.”

His mouth opens and closes like a fish sucking for air. “So you just bring stoop flowers in here?” His eyes go wide. “Go wash up! There could’ve been poison on them!”

I burst out laughing. “Sid, calm your conspiracies. Who would poison carnations?” The bell above the door chimes, and I try to calm my rolling hysterics.

I take a deep breath and try to think about anything other than carnations, or Sid, as I walk to the front of my store. “Welcome to G-Quets. I’m Georgina, can I help you?” I ask to the back of someone’s head.

The man spins around so fast he’s a blur and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a huge bear-hug. “G-G! Is this your store?” He asks.

That voice, the familiar husky scratch.

“Corbin?” I squeal.

“Yea! Who else would scoop you up in the middle of, presumably your store, without a word?” He sets me down.

I slap at his arms and look up into his deep brown eyes. Eyes I didn’t realize I’ve even missed, until this very moment. “When did you get to town?”

He smiles shyly and shrugs. “I just got back last night. I’m finally home.” He smiles. “For good.”

“That’s great!” I smile widely. “It’s been quiet without you all these years. I need to tell Breeze you’re back!” I bounce a little.

“You still talk to Breeze? Holy shit!”

I nod. “And Sid.”

He looks over my shoulder and grins widely. “Dude! You haven’t changed a bit, Freestyle!” I cringe. Sid has always hated that nickname.

“’Sup, Waylay? Where’s your brother?” Sid hollers as he strides towards us.

“That’s actually why I’m here.” He looks towards some flower arrangements. “He’s getting married in a week, can you make some kind of…” he trails off. “I don’t know, Mom wants me get some kind of flower thing that would attach to her present, instead of a bow. I thought if it looked cool, I’d get one, too.”

“Sure, not a problem, follow me,” I say, shifting into business mode immediately and lead him towards the back where my books are. I scan my shelf for the book I need, as Sid and Corbin get reacquainted.

Six years ago, when we graduated high school, Corbin took off. I never heard too much about him, just rumors. His mother barely talked about him, just the occasional, “I spoke with Cor, he said to tell you “hey good-lookin’.”

Finding the book I need, I spin on my heel and lean across the counter. “They’re called “Flows” in my store,” I explain and flip open the book so he can see a few pages of examples. “I crystallize each flower, they’ll never die. So, Jacob and his bride-to-be will be able to keep them as a keepsake.”

He nods while glancing through the book. “I’ll take the Forget-Me-Not-Flow and the Orchid-Flow,” he says pointing to each one. “You know who he’s marrying?”

“Uh, no,” I answer.

“Shantel LoPiccilo.” He laughs.

“They were off-again last I heard,” Sid says.

“I heard they were on-again last year,” I chime in.

“This is the fifth date,” he says with a laugh. A laugh that stirs something in my stomach, something I haven’t felt in ages. “It’s the closest they’ve gotten to the actual date without canceling, so Mom’s holding onto hope this time and actually got a present for them.”

“What’d she get ‘em, glue?” Sid laughs.

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I’ll get them something two days before the wedding. I’m not chancing it.” He shakes his head. “If they cancel, I’m keepin’ the Forget-Me-Not-Flow.” He grins.

“You could just order two,” I suggest with a wink.

His eyes lock on mine, and I hold my breath under the heat of his stare. “It’ll be mine.” He pulls his eyes from mine, and I let my breath out, slowly. “They won’t last,” he tells Sid.

After he says goodbyes and pays, Sid starts cleaning. Not just the normal cleaning we do on a daily basis, either. This is a cleaning of every nook and cranny.

“Sid, what’s up?” I ask, as he cleans the front window for a fourth time.

“Nothing,” he says calmly and continues to swipe the window.

“The window was clean the first time you cleaned it,” I remind him. “Come over here and talk to me,” I say as I put together a vase for a customer pick up in one hour.

“I don’t trust Waylay,” he says as he tosses the paper towel in the trash and turns to face me. “I didn’t trust ’em in high school and I sure as shit don’t trust him now.” He glares at me.

“I don’t have any problem with Corbin. It was Jacob that was the weasel.” I shrug off his glare. Jacob was in an on-again-off-again relationship with Shantel and Breeze. Breeze didn’t care about Shantel, but Shantel hates Breeze. Breeze has been my best friend since kindergarten, so by association, I was on her shit-list. Corbin and I have always been friends, though I’ve always crushed on him but nothing ever came of it. Especially after he left.

“You still have the hots for Mr. Chocolate-eyes-Waylay!” He shouts. “I can see it on your face!” His fists thump on the counter, making me jump. “He’s not right for you,” he seethes. “Don’t even try denyin’ it, Georgina.” He glares at me.

“Sid, you’re pushin’ to be left out early,” I say, as calmly as I can.

“Right, play the boss card. But you know he’s not right for you.” He starts to walk away, then stops. “He’s not stable, he treats women like shit, he’s a druggie, and as your best friend – I demand you stay far away from him. He’s dangerous and will cause you nothin’ but trouble.”

“Hey, Sid?” I ask with a sigh.

“What?” He stops his retreat.

“Go home, and sit on a cactus,” I say.

“If you weren’t my boss,” he says with a laugh, and shakes his head as he pushes the backdoor open.

I breathe a sigh of relief and count to ten to banish Sid’s negativity.

This woman wanted a pink bouquet to give to her daughter for her eighteenth birthday. I believe every flower has a meaning. So I choose pinks and whites that reflect on a mother’s love, pride, and happiness, as well as good-bye. After all, eighteen is when most move out.

As I arrange the order, my mind travels to the white carnations on my porch.

Good luck? Innocence? Faithfulness?

I know what they mean to me, but what do they mean to the person who left them? Who left them?

I’m choosing to say it’s a good luck charm. I’m twenty three years old, own my own flower shop, home, and car, I have wonderful professional and personal relationships, and a very fat cat at home awaiting my arrival.

“Okay, so maybe not all of my relationships are wonderful,” I mumble to myself, as I slip some primrose into the vase.

Sid can be overbearing sometimes, like today. I nick my finger on the scissors and force my thoughts into neutral territory, so I can finish this vase before I gash myself or mess up her order.

Tomorrow, my sister, Trish, is starting here. She makes these little non-food food-looking gifts. She rolls up washcloths and pretty much anything else, to make cakes, sundaes, lollipops, but you can’t eat them, obviously.

I’d be really excited about it, but Trish hates Sid, and Sid hates Trish.

I sigh. “Tomorrow is a new day.” Whether it’s going to be good or not, is still undecided.