Well. That was new.
“Hi,” Jackie said brightly, because Jackie had never met a human being she couldn’t charm. “Welcome to What In Carnation. How can we—”
“I’m here about flowers,” he said. His voice was low. Calm. Not rushed. Not apologetic. Definitely not flirty.
“Um, Juliet?” Jackie called.
My spine straightened before I told it to. “For Valentine’s Day?” I asked, setting my clippers down and wiping my hands on my apron as I stepped forward. “If you’re looking to place an order, I’ll warn you now, we’re booking fast.”
His eyes shifted to me.
Not hungry. Not appreciative.
Assessing.
“For a ride,” he said. “Charity event. Valentine’s Day morning.”
That got my attention, whether I liked it or not. “A ride?”
“Motorcycles.”
Of course. My mind had briefly went to him riding… me. Down, girl. I kept my expression neutral, because professionalism mattered. “All right. What kind of flowers are you thinking?”
He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering the answer even though he already knew it. “Ones to go on the bikes.”
I blinked. “On the… bikes.”
“Handlebars,” he clarified. “Front frames. Nothing loose. Nothing that’ll tangle or fly off.”
Behind me, Jenna made a small choking sound. I shot her a look without turning my head. “You want floral arrangements,” I said carefully, “attached to motorcycles.”
“Yes.”
During Valentine’s week. The busiest week of the year. Wowzers.
I exhaled slowly. “I appreciate the creativity and you coming in here, but I don’t think—”
“I’m not asking for centerpieces,” he interrupted, still calm. “I want something clean. Simple. Red and white, maybe. Something that looks intentional.”
I folded my arms. “I’m fully booked.” That wasn’t a brush-off. It was a fact. I gestured vaguely at the chaos behind me. “Two weddings. Standing orders. Valentine’s deliveries. I can’t take on new projects this close to the holiday. Valentine’s is only in five days.”
He didn’t argue.
That alone threw me.
Most men, especially those who looked like him, pushed. Negotiated. Tried to charm or intimidate their way into a yes.
He just nodded once. “Fair,” he said.
Then he turned like he was going to leave.
Something in my chest loosened and tightened at the same time. “Wait,” I said before I could stop myself. “How many bikes?”
He paused, glanced back over his shoulder. “At least fifty.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not.” The man was insane to walk in here five days before Valentine’s Day and want me to make enough arrangements to put on fifty motorcycles.
A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Think about it,” he said, and then he was gone, the bell chiming softly behind him.