“Coral,” she snapped as she approached. “You were supposed to give me coral chrysanthemums for the Berkshire wedding, and you sent pink.” She stopped a few feet in front of me, crossing her arms.
I offered an easy smile. “I cut those flowers myself, picked the best stock from our Gigi mums, just like you asked.”
“Then why were they the wrong color? Do you have any idea the tantrum Johanna Berkshire threw over those flowers? She tried to get me fired.”
A chuckle through my nose. “Sounds like she needs to get some real problems.”
She eyed me as she drew a breath to fuel her furnace. “For years, my sister has begged me to bring Longbourne business, and I refused for exactly this reason. If it wasn’t for all the press you’ve gotten, I never would have put my ass on the line. But if I say coral, I expect coral. Not pink. Not fuchsia. Not goddamn watermelon or flamingo or anything but coral.”
“Sorry, Ms. Parker,” I answered lazily. “Won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t.”
“How about we issue the Berkshires a partial refund for the trouble?”
Suspicion sparked in her gaze. “I’m sure that would help.”
“Then consider it done.”
Those cool eyes narrowed even more, but she changed the subject. “I need someone to come to a venue in Midtown to measure for arbors and garlands. They’ve requested an archway, and one of you needs to come take the measurements.”
Dad cast me a glance that said not it. The way Tess glared at the back of Lila’s head, I figured she’d just as soon claw Lila in the back with a hand rake than help her measure anything. Lila’s sister, Ivy—another florist at Longbourne—was entirely too pregnant to measure anything but her uterus, and Wendy, our newest addition, just wasn’t experienced enough.
My brother Luke might have done it, but something told me I wanted to be the one to handle Lila Parker.
“Sure. When and where?”
“Tomorrow, if you can manage it. I can meet you at three, Forty-Ninth and Fifth. I’m going to need an archway long enough for the wedding party to stand inside, and the arbor will need a special design built in the shape of a triangle. It’s at the—” She paused, lips flattening. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes?”
I tapped my temple. “Got it all right here.”
Color rose in her cheeks as she drew a slow breath through her nose. “I really think you should write it down.”
“What, don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know what instills more faith—that you can’t tell the difference between shades of pink or that your shirt says Can You Dig It? on the front.”
I glanced down at my chest, flicking at a streak of dirt like I gave a shit what she thought. “Listen, Priss. I’ll be where you say, when you say, ready and at your service.”
A pause while she stared me down, seeming to weigh her options. “All right, Filthy. Can you at least wear a clean shirt? This venue books for two hundred thousand per event, and I don’t want to have to get you in through the service entrance.”
“Deal,” I said, extending a hand in challenge. It was as filthy like she’d said, with crescents of dirt under my nails and enough soil in the creases of my palms to grow zucchinis.
Her eyes dropped to my hand, and for a moment, I was positive she’d refuse. But somewhere in that pretty little head of hers existed some form of manners and a healthy helping of pride, so she slipped that spotless, manicured hand into my dirty, calloused one.
It was soft and warm, though her fingers were strong, gripping my hand and pumping it once, firm and definitive, before taking it back.
Instantly, I felt guilty for daring her—her skin was spoiled with streaks and flecks of dirt. To her credit, she didn’t even dust it off. Instead, she held up her chin and gave me a quietly confrontational glare.
“I’ll give Ivy the exact address. At least I know she’ll write it down.”
“Whatever you have to do,” I said, returning my forearm to the handle of the shovel, not missing the flick of her eyes to my shoulders and the cross of my arms.
“Tomorrow then. Don’t be late.”
She tugged the hem of her jacket, straightening it to match the yardstick that was her spine, and once again, I lamented taking her hand. A scuff of dirt now sullied the very edge of that white tailored coat.