“It’s totally okay. I had to reschedule on you, so please don’t stress about it.” I rose and walked around my desk, grabbing the pen. “I’d love to grab something to eat when . . . when things calm down.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

I raised my brows, unsure if he actually planned on following through on that. I mean, it seemed kind of weak. He was going to be that busy from now until some undetermined time?

“Okay,” I said as I plopped down in my seat. “Talk to you then.”

“Bye, Jillian.”

Hanging up the phone, I didn’t know what to make of the call. Truthfully, I wasn’t exactly disappointed or relieved. I was sort of apathetic about it, but I didn’t expect him to call again. I guess after turning my head when he tried to kiss me and canceling on the original dinner date, he was looking for a way out. Couldn’t really blame him.

Tuesday saw the return of the pumpkin spice latte. On Wednesday and Thursday, those lattes were once again reunited in my belly with pumpkin spice bread and an amazing slice of pound cake.

On Friday, Brock took me out to lunch, to this new sushi place in town. Brock asked about my upcoming weekend, and he’d told me he had some work to do at his place. We didn’t talk about work or our past. I told him about the bookcases I’d bought but hadn’t put together yet. He offered to assemble them for me, but I didn’t take the offer too seriously.

On the way back to the Academy, we stopped at a flower nursery. I stayed in the car while he darted across the gravel driveway, entering one of the tented buildings, since he said it wouldn’t take that long.

About five minutes passed before he returned, carrying two bushy flowers, one with burnt orange blossoms and another that was deep violet. He placed them on the floor of the backseat.

“Mums?” I asked when he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah. What about them?”

“Why did you pick up two mums?”

“Why not?” A sheepish grin crossed his face. “I like them.”

Brock was absolutely the last person I’d ever expect who would like mums, or any flower to be honest, but there were two of them sitting behind me, proving me wrong.

Proving there was something new about Brock I never learned. Something almost ridiculous . . . and so damn cute.

He glanced over at me as he backed out of the parking lot. “Almost had it.”

Looking up at him in confusion, I asked, “Almost had what?”

“A smile,” he said, watching me for a few seconds and then he eased the Porsche down the gravely road. “Almost got a smile out of you.”

Epigraph