The Ladybug Jinx (7 page)

“I don’t know. It’s not as pretty as the rose.” Another voice caught Celia off guard.

Celia peeked around the corner to see Sam talking to Mitch Dozier, Grandberry Falls’ young mayor.

“Hey, Mitch.” Celia grabbed a hand full of curls and flung them behind her shoulders. She always thought he would move on after lengthy years of caring for his ailing mother when she died, but he didn’t. “How’s the town?”

Celia made a spot right between Mitch and Sam.

“All is good in the big city.” His six-foot frame stood over her like a tall soldier. She wasn’t used to Mitch sporting a spikier hair-cut from his normal longer locks. “I can hardly keep up with the growth.”

“Celia, I was just telling Mitch about the Camellia. Our customer wants to have the perfect flowers for a special night.” He looked at the Mitch and smiled. “I suggested the Camellia because we just got them in and they are fresh. Plus all flowers have a meaning and did you know Camellia means my destiny is in your hands.”

Celia saw the approving eye brow raise from Mitch. “Customer? Mitch is a long time friend.” Celia put her hands on Mitch’s arm, and looked at Sam and arched her brows.

“Sold! I’ll take the entire bucket.” Mitch turned directly talking to Sam. Celia chalked it up to a man thing. Or maybe Mitch was completely uncomfortable with how Celia was acting.

“Great. Celia is the master designer.” Sam gave a weak smile to Celia’s glare. “She will take over from here.” Celia took the bucket from Sam and continued back to the old farm table.

Mitch didn’t follow her. She could hear the male banter about a recent football game. She needed this moment alone in the back clipping the stems and putting them in a couple different vases. Looking at Sam was definitely pleasing to her eyes, but listening to him discuss flowers and their meaning was downright sexy.

Sam turning on that switch inside her made her nervous and uncomfortable. Actually he scared her to death.

She shook her curls loosely, stood tall and picked up the vases to make her grand re-entrance.

“Here ya go, Mitch.” Celia threw in an extra syllable to make her accent stand out. She wondered who the flowers were for, but she couldn’t break the unspoken florist rule—never ask.

“Great, Celia.” Mitch turned to Sam. “Beautiful. And thank for your help.”

Mitch held out his hand and Sam shook it.

“Hey come on downtown, and I’ll treat you to a beer at The Thirsty Turtle.” Mayor Dozier welcomed Sam into the community before he left with his bouquet.

Mitch’s never offered Celia a beer. She scowled and turned to go back to her orders.

“What was that about?” Celia asked as soon as the bell and Charlie signaled the customer had left.

“What?” Sam didn’t acknowledge the annoyed sound in her voice.

“You are the delivery boy. I am the owner. I am the floral expert.” She wanted to make sure he knew his place, even though he did sell something. “Besides, how did you know that?”

“Let’s just say I have had plenty of experiences with flowers.” He was hiding something and she was going to find out one way or the other.

“Flowers or women?” She had a hunch it was both.

“Flowers,” Sam said. “Look, I won’t do it again. You were upstairs and the dude started talking to me. I yelled your name.”

He was right, he did yell her name. “Maybe you should have excused yourself and came to get me.”

“And let him rob the place? No way.”

“Rob the place? Mitch? You’re kidding right?” Celia started to laugh, but he wasn’t. “You’re serious.”

She thought it was cute the way he was acting towards her.

“No I’m not kidding.” Sam’s eyes were a little softer, “Where I am from, people come in places and rob them or they hold them hostage. Besides you shouldn’t be here alone all day.”

“Please. This isn’t a third world country. Nor would a florist be the first ideal place for a robber and I have Charlie.” Celia pointed towards her watchdog that happened to love Sam.

“Plus, Mitch is a harmless farmer turned mayor.”

She picked up her shears and began to work her magic.

*

Sam knew he had messed up. He didn’t realize she had been listening or he’d played dumb about knowing what flowers mean what. Bianca was good at picking out certain flowers because of their meaning. Once she had made him go all over Los Angeles to find daffodils. “We have to have daffodils when my parent’s show up. They mean unrequited love.” Sam loved her brain and how it worked.

“Celia, I said I was sorry and I wouldn’t do it again.” Sam didn’t want to get into any more discussion of flowers or meanings or his past. He had gone most of the afternoon not thinking about Bianca. The memories were getting further and further apart. He loved Bianca, but he had to give himself some distance in order to continue to move ahead in his life. And wasn’t what this little detour in his life was?

“Are there any more deliveries for the night?” Sam was tired. He was ready to get back to his efficiency for the last time today. The best thing about this job was after each set of deliveries he was able to do as he pleased and he pleased to go home between deliveries.

“No, Sam.” Celia turned the open sign to close. Sam watched her glide through the English florist turning the lights off. “You will need to be ready for tomorrow. We have a funeral which means we stay for the funeral and move the flowers to the grave site.”

Funeral? He wasn’t ready for a funeral. “I didn’t sign up for funerals.” Sam yelled loud enough for her to hear him. “I am only a delivery boy.”

“Ah, Sam, you are a funny one, aren’t you.” Celia pointed her finger towards him, “its part of the job. If you can’t do it, you can quit.”

“That’s what you would like isn’t it, Celia?” Sam didn’t want to be messed with. “You want me to fail.”

“You’re crazy, Sam Reynolds.” Celia’s words stung him. She opened the door to let him out and her father in. “See you in the morning.”

The roast smelled great. Obviously she wasn’t inviting him to dinner. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. Bianca tried to make Thanksgiving dinner one time and burnt the turkey so bad its ass-end split wide open when it came out of the oven. It was the best Thanksgiving ever with Chinese and Bianca.

“Good evening, Sam.” Marty tipped the beal of his John Deere hat. “You staying for dinner?”

That was all Sam needed to hear to take another step back into the shop. “I guess I could change my plans.” He was trying to sound as if he was busy, which includes going back to the diner, eating with Mamie and retreating up the steel stairs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t make enough for three people.” Celia held the door open as wide as it would go.

“Wow! You are a real bitter woman.” Sam pointed to Celia. He was tired of her treating him like crap. “Marty, would you like to have better company for dinner?”

Celia glared at Sam. “No. My father will be eating with his daughter.”

“Let him be a big boy and make the decision.” Sam’s eyes pierced her.

“Thank you Sam, but I have already accepted Celia’s request. But maybe tomorrow.”

Celia stormed up the steps. “Be ready to work tomorrow, Sam.” She hollered down.

Sam waited for Marty to say something, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam waved his hand towards Marty. “Mamie is expecting me at the diner, plus I had an invite from the mayor of Grandberry Falls.”

What a bitch, Sam thought when he slammed the old Chevy door. He’d always heard southern women were pros at welcoming strangers, and Celia must be the exception. There wasn’t anything acceptable about her behavior.

The gravel on the driveway pinged the sides of the truck. He didn’t care—a few more dents weren’t going to matter.

He peered in his rear-view mirror and stopped the truck. He turned around to watch Celia through the window smiling at some story Marty was telling her.

Sam’s body warmed when she threw her head back laughing, her head full of auburn colors cascading down her back. Maybe she was capable of the southern woman image. An image Sam would love to see.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

Winston Churchill

7

Sam was mad. He was really mad. Why was he having a hard time connecting to Celia? He wasn’t used to being treated this way by a woman. Especially a beautiful woman.

“It would complicate things anyways,” Sam said out loud shaking his head. “Man, this broad is already driving you crazy.” He pictured Celia working with a customer, she always smiled. He loved how her pale skin made her hair look like fire. Natural beauty was something you don’t see in LA. Most women there have had dye jobs, boob jobs, any kind of job you can think of. But not Celia. She was one natural woman. Watching her made him more increasingly uncomfortable with the feelings she was bringing to his soul’s surface.

The old Chevy creped around the country roads as if it had its own mind. Sam wasn’t feeling like company for dinner and certainly didn’t feel like listening to the diner chatter. Mitch said he’d be at The Thirsty Turtle. He also mentioned beer and pretzels which is good enough for dinner.

The Chevy puffed a few times when Sam turned the key off. He snickered. There wasn’t a role in the movie industry as good as the real life role he was playing now.

Sam scanned the bar for Mitch. The bar stools were all taken with guys in cowboy hats watching the latest sporting event on one of the three televisions hanging on the wall behind the bar.

Sam nods when Mitch waves him over.

“I’m glad you stopped by. Tommy, get our new friend a beer.” Mitch yelled over to the surfer dude working the draft knobs.

“Here ya go.” Tommy flipped his shaggy blonde hair to the side. “Tommy Hensley.”

The hand shake was firm.

“Sam B, um, Reynolds, nice to meet you.” For a moment Sam lost track of his new life. It felt like he’d been here a long time, when in fact, only a few days.

“Whoo hoo, quitten’ time!” The butterscotch blonde coming toward them screamed while flinging her purse in the hair. “Baby, get me a beer.”

Sam leaned to the right to let the blonde reach across the bar and plant a big kiss on Tommy.

“Who’s this?” She put her perfectly manicured hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You must be the new delivery boy my granny keeps talking about.”

“You must be Belle, from The Hair Pin.” Sam stood up not forgetting his manners.

“Looks like we got us a gentleman.” She rubbed her hands through his new long layered look. “Granny’s right. You need a haircut if you’re going to win Celia Brigg’s heart.”

“I’ll be sure to keep you in mind when I do need a hair-cut, and I never said anything to Hazel Greenlee about dating Celia Briggs.”

Belle chomped on her gum, and smiled. “Oh, you don’t have to tell Granny. She knows these things. Right, baby?”

“Yep.” Tommy agreed before he moved on down the bar, refilling every empty glass.

The bar was filling up by the minute. Everyone coming in talking about getting off work at five was something new to Sam. On the movie set, you aren’t done until the director tells you you’re done. And that’s usually in the wee hours of the night.

“Lordy, here are my people!” Another blonde yelled over the blaring jukebox. “You must be the Sam.”