This London Love (8 page)

Kate leaned to the side and hit her head against the wall. “Perhaps.” She winced and held her head. “I should get back — the toilets are that way,” Kate said, pointing. She slipped away before Tanya had time to react. Once back in the bar, Kate walked up to the group and peeled Jess away from Lucy.

Jess had the good grace to be concerned. “You okay?”

Kate gave Jess an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “Well, if you call okay being cornered in the toilet by Tanya who ‘wants to get to know me better’, then yes, I’m brilliant.” Kate’s cheeks were aflame. “I’m almost impressed with her utter persistence. Notice I said
almost
.”

Jess grimaced, then laughed. “Perhaps the George Foreman nickname wasn’t so far off the mark.”

“Perhaps not. If this was a boxing match, I’d fear for my life.”

Jess let out a bark of laughter. “She’s not
that
bad.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “She’s not trying to chat you up though, is she?”

Kate managed to navigate the next half an hour without having a one-on-one with Tanya, although Tanya did keep catching her eye and attempting to make ‘meaningful contact’.

Kate was having none of it.

When it looked like Tanya might be making a beeline for her once more, Kate checked her watch and made her excuses.

After 34 years in the game, she knew when to call it a night.

11

Saturday morning and Meg had been in the shop since 6.30am. Saturdays were always her busiest day, and today had been no exception. She’d had three weddings to sort, as well as the steady footfall of passing trade once the doors opened at 9am.

Now, at 11am, she could finally afford to take a break and enjoy the cup of coffee and croissant her brother had brought in for her when he came to pick up the last delivery 15 minutes ago. Meg and Jamie hadn’t always loved each other growing up, but right at this second, Meg thought she loved him more than anybody else in the whole world. The coffee slipped down a treat and the almond croissant she’d just posted into her mouth was buttery heaven. Sometimes, food didn’t need to be fancy, it just needed to be exactly what you wanted.

Meg surveyed the store — it would have to be a quick break. The place was in desperate need of a tidy-up after her mammoth schedule this morning. Plus, Kate was due to arrive in an hour and she wanted the shop — and herself — to look presentable.

Kate. Who Meg had definitely picked up gay vibes from, but then really, what did Meg know about gaydar? Nothing. She swore she was born with a faulty one. She quite often picked out women who she’d swear were gay, right up until the moment their husband and four children pitched up and she rolled her eyes at her inability to pick another lesbian. But if Meg were asked to lay a bet on Kate, she was fairly sure it was a bet she’d win. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part.

Half an hour later, things were as ship-shape as she was going to get them, and she’d just sold a dozen red roses to an endearingly nervous twenty-something whose hands had shaken while he was paying her. When Meg had asked him if the roses were for any particular occasion, he’d told her he was planning to propose to his girlfriend that night. One knee, diamond ring, the works. Meg had wished him luck and smiled as he left the shop. She worked in a world swathed in romance, yet her life appeared insulated from it.

She walked through to the back kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, picking up the order book she’d left out the back too. There was a stray red rose left over from one of her wedding orders too, so with hands full, she gripped it between her teeth and strode back into the shop.

And that was where she came across Kate, looking breathtakingly cool in a long blue T-shirt, skinny jeans and brogues, with sunglasses on top of her head. She looked like she’d just walked off an advert for a better you, and Kate was the poster girl.

Meanwhile, Meg was standing with a rose between her teeth.

Kate’s face broke into a grin. “Is this how we were supposed to meet? With a red rose between our teeth? Only, I think you should have warned me. Plus, you’re a florist, so I’d say you have an unfair advantage.”

Meg quickly put down her order book and water, then removed the rose from her mouth, wiping across her mouth to check she had no greenery protruding. Her cheeks reddened as she looked back up to Kate, who was still smiling.

“Extra rose — from one of the wedding orders this morning,” Meg explained. “I short-changed them, but don’t go telling anyone.”

“Florist Ruins Wedding Day, Bride In Tears’…” Kate said, writing the headline with her hand in the air in front of her. “I can just see the scandal now.”

“You’d be surprised.” Meg’s heartbeat was slowing down. She might get over the embarrassment soon.

“Anyway, I know I’m early,” Kate began, looking at her watch. “And clearly I caught you on the hop. But I just came in to see what coffee you wanted — I’ll go and grab some from the Pret over the road.” Kate let her eyes roam up and down Meg’s body once, twice, before they settled on her face. “I’d say you’re a latte kind of girl. Or perhaps a flat white. Am I close?”

Meg scratched her ear and tilted her head to one side. “Latte?
Way
too milky. I’m a black coffee. Straight up, no messing.”

“I’ll remember that.” Kate didn’t miss a beat. “Black coffee. Back in a minute.” She strode out of the shop.

Meg covered her mouth with her hand.
Sweet baby Jesus.
But somehow she didn’t think even he could help her out of this one. Okay, so Meg had thought Kate was easy on the eye the first time she’d seen her. But this morning? She seemed to have ratcheted up her charm offensive. Television teeth, just-so hair, stylist wardrobe and an assured air.

And her butt as she’d walked out of the shop…

Meg exhaled. Okay, this was her libido talking. She’d had no action in over 18 months.
Nada
. She’d pulled herself out of the game, shut off that part of her life because she didn’t need the hassle.

Unless that hassle came wrapped in the guise of someone like Kate, apparently. Her body was not one to lie and her body was telling her, ‘I want this woman!’ Her body might be disappointed.

Meg put all other thoughts out of her mind and got out the funeral brochures. If that didn’t douse her libido, nothing would. She set two chairs around the end of the counter and concentrated on being composed. She could do that, no problem.

A few minutes later, Kate swept back into the shop with coffees and two popcorn bars. She set the drinks on the table and handed a bar to Meg, who was smiling inanely and trying to keep her emotions under control. An image of pushing Kate onto the long counter-top and kissing her slow and hard flashed into Meg’s mind and her cheeks coloured even more. And she hadn’t actually thought that was physically possible.

“Have a seat,” Meg said, indicating the chair next to her. “Now, option two, wasn’t it?” Meg switched on her professional mode as she sat too, turning to Kate, who had icy cool, clear blue eyes. Did Meg’s heart just skip a beat? Good grief, her thoughts were beginning to sound like cheesy pop songs. Meg quickly stared back down into the brochures and hoped Kate would have looked away by the time she flicked her head back up.

She had.

“Yeah — option two.” Kate took a sip of her coffee.

“So a coffin spray…”

“Is it just me or is that weird?”

“Weird?”

Kate nodded. “Sounds like you’re going to graffiti the coffin.”

“I suppose it does.” Meg grinned. “We can do that if you like?”

“Don’t think my Uncle Mike was into modern art much.” Kate smiled. “Is it bad to be laughing about this?”

Meg shook her head. “Not really — death’s a part of life, and life is better with humour in it.”

“Very true.”

“So the usual flowers we go for are lilies and roses, with some chrysanthemums and berries for an autumnal feel. Mainly creams and whites, and perhaps some pale green — does that sound okay?”

Kate nodded. “Sounds perfect. And then my mum will stop moaning at me. Maybe.”

Meg took the lid off her coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. “If you could ask my mum to do the same, that would be great.”

***

They shared a conspiratorial smile about parental woes, and Kate held Meg’s gaze for way longer than was necessary for a flower consultation. But Kate couldn’t take her eyes off of Meg. No matter what she did, her vision was always drawn back, her eyes not satisfied until they’d soaked up a little bit more. She could stare at this view for hours.

Kate snapped out of her reverie as Meg opened her popcorn bar. “Thanks for the food, too — my brother brought me a croissant earlier but I’m still starving. It’s been a long day already.”

Kate opened her bar. “You put me to shame. I’ve only been up an hour and a half. And even then, I woke up with the crushing realisation I’m going to be single forever.”

Oh, hello — where had that comment come from?

Meg sat back in her chair and moved the brochures to one side, giving Kate the once over. “Why’s that then?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve only met you twice, but you seem presentable and sane. You should have a list of suitors at your door.”

Kate snorted. “Maybe they got the wrong address.” She paused. “It’s just on my mind right now because I’ve been single for a while and oh my god, I’m really over-sharing again, aren’t I? I’m not normally like this, honest. There’s clearly something about this place that brings it out of me.” Which was mildly disconcerting, to say the least.

Meg waved her hand, telling Kate it was fine. “I’m right there with you, so I get it.”

Kate sat up.
Right there with you.
What did that mean?
That Meg was single? That she was gay? What did it mean?

Kate took another sip of her coffee. “I was set up last night with a friend of a friend.” How should Kate tell the rest of the story? In gender-neutral pronoun form, or should she out herself straight away? She had to decide, there was no time to formulate a plan.

“So yeah, I was set up for drinks last night — I took my friend and they took theirs.” Kate wasn’t feeling brave enough yet. “And while my date was attractive and had a good job, they just weren’t my type, you know?”

Kate’s cheeks hissed red as she scanned Meg’s face for any sign of reaction to the use of ‘they’ rather than ‘he’ or ‘she’. She couldn’t detect one. She ploughed on. “But the end result — another failed date.” Kate ran her finger up and down the side of her cardboard cup.

“Sometimes I think I should just give up and stay in. Take up knitting. But then something like this happens to my uncle and it makes me think I need to start getting out and living a bit more. And clearly part of that remit is to get way too personal on the second meeting with my florist.” Kate held up both palms and flashed Meg an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry for blurting out my life story to you. I’m going to drink some coffee now so my mouth can’t talk anymore.”

Kate sat back with her cup, staring at the table. So she’d come into the florist with the intention of ordering flowers while giving off an air of self-assurance. And within 15 minutes she’d blurted out she was single and doomed to a life of spinsterhood.
Genius
.

But when Kate looked back up at Meg, all she saw was warmth, along with a beautiful smile.

“So what exactly is your type?” Meg wasn’t laughing at Kate, she seemed genuinely interested. “Just so I know what to look out for on your behalf.” Meg shuffled some papers on the table that didn’t need shuffling.

Kate smiled back shyly. “Warm, friendly, two eyes, nose, mouth.”

“Fussy,” Meg said.

Kate let out a bark of laughter. “So my sister would say. And my flatmate. And my boss.”

“That’s a lot of fussy.” Meg sipped her coffee and contemplated. “You know what I think?”

Kate sucked on the inside of her cheek. “No, but I think you’re about to tell me.”

“I think you don’t need to worry. You’re good-looking, intelligent and have good taste in flowers. When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. So stop stressing. And you owe me £20 for this mini-counselling session.” Meg let a grin spread across her face.

“Well worth it. I might make it a regular feature of my Saturday morning routine.” Kate locked eyes with Meg and her stomach fell. Hang on, had Meg just called her good-looking?

“I wouldn’t mind one bit.”

Another wave of longing rumbled through Kate. Good grief, Meg was one hot florist.

“Can I use your loo?” Kate asked, getting up.

Meg showed her through to the back and Kate gratefully disappeared into the bathroom, turning the lock and closing her eyes. This meeting was a straight-up mixture of disaster and farce in equal measure. Why had she rambled on about her love life when she’d met this woman only once before? She needed to brush up her flirting skills. But being around Meg appeared to render Kate incapable of logical thought.

Kate flushed the toilet and ran the tap, eyeballing herself in the mirror. Okay, calm. She could do this. Go out, settle up and walk out of the shop without tripping over any flowers or her laces.
Piece of cake.