hello,” Jim answered.
“Do it from over there.”
Jim always had an excuse for bringing the kids home earlier. Wynn wondered what tale he’d spin for today’s early arrival.
“Let’s hear it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What happened to three o’clock?”
Sheepishly, he shrugged, shutting the door after him. “Sorry.”
Frustration mounted inside Wynn. Her voice registered impatience. “Well?”
“No food,” Jim explained. “Besides, Jimmy and Kevin wanted to come home.”
She let out a gush of hot air, dropping her hands to her sides. “Jim, this is your weekend. You knew they were coming. Why didn’t you buy groceries?”
“The boys don’t like what I have. Besides, it’s Sunday. I know you cook a good dinner for them. Hey, there’s an idea. Why don’t we have dinner together? I think the boys would love to see us at the dinner table as a family.” A hopeful gleam entered Jim’s pale brown eyes.
Not today. Not ever again, Wynn thought. “What about Lorraine?”
Jim’s face flushed a dull red under the maple brown of his skin.
Wynn smirked, enjoying his discomfort. He’d left his family for Lorraine. Wynn wondered if his face would turn the same shade of red as his Jeep if she asked a few more pointed questions. “How’s the shop doing?”
This question was also met with silence. Interesting. Something wasn’t right here. Jim’s sports equipment shops had always been very profitable. This might explain why she hadn’t received a child support payment in three weeks. She made a mental note to call her attorney and have Debo-rah check it out.
The doorbell chimed for a second time. Saved by the bell, Wynn thought, twisting the handle and opening the door.
A young man with curly blond hair and a gray uniform stood on her porch. Keith was stitched into the front of his shirt in yellow thread. He cradled a long white box under one arm. “Ms. Wynn Evans?”
“Yes.” She glanced beyond him at the van from Viviano’s Flowers parked behind Jim’s SUV.
The delivery man thrust a clipboard and pen into her hands. “Sign here, please.”
She complied.
He swapped the clipboard for the box. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
“Thank you. You, too,” Wynn responded, shutting the door.
Brows drawn together in a frown, Jim studied the box. “What’s that?”
“My guess would be flowers.” Wynn tucked the box under her arm and moved down the foyer to the living room.
Jim followed, asking, “From who?”
Ignoring her ex-husband, Wynn sank onto the silver blue three-cushion sofa and dragged the red bow along the box and off the end. She pushed the top off and found long-stem roses garnished with baby’s breath nestled in a bed of white, crispy tissue paper. “Ohh!” Wynn cooed, lifting a yellow rose to her nostril and inhaling its sweet fragrance. “These are beautiful.”
“Where’d you get those? Who sent ’em?” Jim pushed the tissue paper aside to peek inside the box.
Wynn lightly smacked his hand away. “Your name wasn’t on this.”
His fingers touched the stem of each rose. “Ten. Eleven. You have cheap friends. There’s only eleven roses. Couldn’t even afford a whole dozen? Who does that?”
Wynn shut Jim up with a look. She recounted the flower and found that Jim was correct. There were eleven yellow roses. In addition, one long stem red rose rested among the yellow ones. She removed the scarlet flower, rubbed it against her cheek, enjoying the way the velvety petals felt against her skin.
An ivory envelope laid within the folds of the tissue paper. Wynn’s hands shook with anticipation as she retrieved the note and opened it.
Wynn,
Although we have plenty of shared history, I feel that we’re just beginning to know each other. Yellow roses symbolize friendship and red is for passion. I believe we share plenty of both emotions. I enjoyed the evening. Thank you. I’m looking forward to another wonderful evening.
Adam.
Wynn smiled. Adam, you are good. You know what to say to a woman while wooing her. She tucked the card inside the pocket of her shorts and rose from the sofa, making her way to the kitchen with the roses.
Jim dogged her every step, assaulting her with questions. “Was it a client?”
“No,” she responded.
“It’s not your birthday. So I don’t think your parents would have sent them.” Jim hurried behind her. He leaned one hip against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest, running through a checklist. “What about your sister? Are they from her?”
“No.”
“Who else would send you flowers?”
Annoyed by Jim’s lack of tact and his annoying questions, Wynn turned to him, ready to read him the riot act. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful spray of flowers and all of her anger dissolved. I’m not going to let you destroy Adam’s wonderful gift and my enjoyment of it.
“None of your business,” answered Wynn, reaching under her kitchen sink for a vase. She ran warm tepid water into the glass vase, placed it on the countertop, and dropped in a packet’s worth of crystals to make the flowers last longer before arranging them in the vase.
Wynn smiled, thinking of last night. Adam was right. They had shared a beautiful evening, culminating in a series of passionate kisses. Her pulse quickened. She gazed up to find Jim’s speculative gaze on her. Wynn didn’t want him to know what was going on in her head.
Uncomfortable with his sharp assessing glance, she decided to put an end to it. “Since the kids are home, I’m sure you have things to do. Let me see you out.”
“Nah. I’ve got time.” To prove his point, Jim strolled slowly across the kitchen, opened a cupboard, selected a glass, and returned to the refrigerator. He added ice from the door dispenser and then filled the glass with water. Jim took his time, swallowing every drop. Once he finished, Jim placed the glass on the marble countertop. “I thought I’d stick around and spend a little more time with the boys.”
“I don’t see the point in that,” she dismissed. “You had all weekend to be with your children.”
Jim admitted, “They don’t feel comfortable with me. Jimmy and Kevin are polite. But they don’t want to be at my house.”
“Maybe you should talk with them and learn more about them. Find out what they like. My boys are easygoing kids. It doesn’t take much to please them. An afternoon tossing a ball or going to the park is all they require. They love that stuff and it doesn’t cost much.”
“This has nothing to do with money,” Jim snapped.
“I never said it did.”
For the third time in less than fifteen minutes the doorbell rang. Wynn shook her head and sighed. “Good grief. It’s Sunday. I’ve had more company today than I normally have all week.” She strolled down the hall to the front door and opened it. Peg Evans stood on the porch.
“Hi, Mom.” Wynn stepped back. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Home watching the baseball game.”
Peggy Evans took a step closer and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I went to early service and decided to drop by.”
“Come on in.” Wynn pointed toward the back of the house. “The kids just got home.”
“Is