Bianca walked down the main street, popping her head into several of the quaint shops as she went. The sidewalks still glistened from last night’s storm, and the air carried that bright, washed-clean smell that always followed rain in the mountains. Her mind spun while her stomach ached with nerves and too much coffee. Mineral Lake looked peaceful on the surface—trucks parked along the curb, a dog tied outside the hardware store, wind nudging the budding cottonwoods—but inside her head nothing felt calm.
The card felt heavy in her pocket.
She paused when she reached Ellen’s Flower Extravaganza.
Fun name for a florist. For a moment she simply stood on the sidewalk and stared through the big front window. Buckets of color filled the display from tulips to sprays of greenery, and the sight tugged at a quiet place deep inside her chest. Flowers always did that. They felt hopeful.
Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent hit her immediately, warm, sweet, and soft at the same time. The shop was small but bright, sunlight pouring through the windows and catching on glass vases arranged along awooden shelf. Buckets of flowers lined the wall behind the counter, and potted plants crowded a table near the front.
She walked toward the counter. “Hi.”
“Oh, hi, Bianca,” Ellen said. The blonde woman stood behind the counter tying ribbon around a bouquet. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she wore a pink flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. “It’s finally tulip season if you want to get a bouquet or five.”
“I love tulips.” Bianca glanced around. A small bell chimed softly as the door settled closed behind her. “You have a beautiful place here.”
Ellen gestured at the plants and flowers filling the shop. “Are you looking for blooms for decorating?”
“I actually do need some flowers.” Bianca stepped closer to one of the buckets and thought about the Willoughby place. “But I need them more for planting than arranging.”
“Oh.” Ellen rested her hands on the counter. “What kind?”
Bianca automatically began listing the things she loved working with. “Roses, definitely. Climbing ones if possible. Lavender. Peonies. Maybe some delphinium along the fence lines. Coneflowers. Black-eyed Susans. Snapdragons, if they’ll take here. Foxglove. Shasta daisies. Oh—and hydrangeas, though those might be tricky in this climate.”
Ellen nodded along, though a faint smile crept onto her face as Bianca kept going.
“Salvia would be great,” Bianca continued, warming to the subject. “And maybe lupine along the edges. There are already marigolds in place.”
“Well,” Ellen said finally, “I mostly sell cut flowers and potted plants here. You want to check out Boyd’s nursery on the outskirts of town. It’s kind of between here and Billings. They’ve got some beautiful roses this year.”
A nursery so close. That would be perfect. Bianca rested her hands on the counter. “Boyd owns a nursery?”
“Yeah.” Ellen shrugged. “He has a few businesses, mostly construction. But the nursery has been in his family for generations.”
Bianca nodded absently, though her mind had already wandered back to the real reason she’d come in. “I was wondering about something else. I received more roses today.”
“You did? From Adam?”
Bianca blinked. “Why would you think they’re from Adam?”
Ellen lifted a brow. “Aren’t you two dating?”
Bianca shifted her weight. They’d had one night together. One night that still made her skin warm just thinking about it. “It’s amazing how fast rumors travel in a small town.”
Ellen only smiled.
“But I’m wondering,” Bianca continued slowly, “is there any chance my secret admirer sent the flowers from here?”
“Sorry,” Ellen said. “Nobody bought roses from me today. I wish.” She rested her chin on her hand. “So you and Adam, huh?”
Well, the man had kissed her right by the coffee shop, so it wasn’t a huge secret. “Um, yes.”
Ellen chuckled. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in the entire county, I think. You’d better hold on tight.”
Bianca chuckled. “I won’t be here long enough to hold on at all.” Why did that make her feel like someone punched her in the solar plexus? She moved toward the cooler along the wall where several bouquets waited, ready to be sold. Red roses filled one metal bucket. “These are pretty.”
“Thanks.” Ellen stepped closer. “Those are Crimson Glory roses.”
Bianca studied the blooms. The petals were deep red, almost velvet in color, though still a little lighter than the roses she’dreceived the other night. Hers were a different kind. She had to figure out who was messing with her. “Do you have a list of florists in nearby towns?”