Rose Gardner's Florist (The Providence Street Shops #2) - Bonnie Dee Page 0,9

am no expert on growing plants by any means. I depend on a book I bought to educate me on the subject: The Science of Horticulture.”

Her visitor’s eyes widened. “I recently purchased the same volume and was just reading it last night.”

She laughed in delight. “Perhaps we might study together and exchange our thoughts on what we learn. I would be pleased to have a fellow botany enthusiast with whom to discuss plants.” Rose blurted the invitation without thinking of how it might sound.

Carmody paused. Perhaps he thought her offer too forward. But then he replied, “Yes. I would be amenable to that at any time that would be convenient for you. Also, I would greatly appreciate your view on the repairs to my conservatory.”

“I would enjoy seeing it very much, but I should not visit a bachelor’s home without a chaperone.”

“Of course not.” He dropped his gaze, adjusted his spectacles, then peered at her with bright eyes. “Perhaps if both your friend and mine were present, it would be suitable? I shall arrange a dinner party and viewing of the work in progress.”

“That would be all right. Whenever you wish to arrange it, I will—”

A customer arrived to interrupt her thought. Rose turned her attention to the woman in a blue gown and matching plumed hat, which Rose recognized as one of Hattie’s. “Good day. Welcome to my shop. May I help you with anything in particular?”

The woman shot a look between Rose and Mr. Carmody. “I will browse while you finish serving your customer.”

“After you, Madam,” Carmody said. “I must choose an appropriate bereavement note.” He stepped toward the display.

The flustered woman required several centerpieces for a tea she was hosting that very day. “I completely forgot about flowers. There’s nothing to cut in the garden, and now, I’ve left it so late I haven’t the time to arrange them myself. Could you make four centerpieces and deliver them before two today?”

The close deadline seemed nearly unachievable. Still, Rose could not bear to turn down any order. “Pink roses and white gardenias,” she repeated the woman’s request. “I have both on hand.”

After her harried customer had left, Rose exclaimed aloud, “What have I done?”

Mr. Carmody replaced the card he pretended to study. “Will you be unable to complete the order in time?”

“I should be able to, but not with interruptions from customers. Guy is right. I need an assistant, if only for a few hours each day.” She recalled to whom she was speaking. “Never mind my worries. Let me make your bouquet.”

“There is no special occasion. I’ll buy them another time. You must begin filling that order. Might I offer to watch the store for you? I am not experienced, but I believe I could greet customers and do my best to help them.”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d offered to get down on his knees and scrub the floors. “I couldn’t possibly ask such a favor of you.”

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint a new customer. It would be bad for business.” He studied her with translucent eyes which shaded toward leaf-green in the light. “You are a friend of Hardy’s and therefore a friend of mine. Allow me to help you as he would.”

Rose dipped her head, his keen gaze making her feel unaccountably shy and shaky. Of course he had no inappropriate designs on her, but was merely looking out for her on his friend’s behalf. “I would greatly appreciate your help. Thank you, Mr. Carmody. I will work as quickly as I can, and if you need help with a customer, you must summon me from the back room.”

“I certainly will.” He gave a small bow as naturally as breathing. The men in Rose’s life did not bow. She didn’t come from that sort of people. His courtesy and the way he looked at her through the clear glass shield of his spectacles made her shaky, trembling feeling grow.

Now she was the one with inappropriate thoughts! Banishing them, Rose bustled around the shop collecting flowers, the strong fragrance of the gardenias nearly overwhelming the equally powerful scent of roses. Perhaps the pairing was too fragrant for a tea table, but they would certainly look beautiful together.

At her worktable, Rose placed four shallow ceramic bowls with a metal frog in each. She stripped leaves and thorns from stems and placed each bloom. The arrangement grew from sparse into an explosion of pink and white blossoms anchored in green ferns. As she examined the