“And he still wears the ring?”
Rachel shrugged.
Holly counted out eight white lilies. “I didn’t know you bowled.”
“I don’t.”
“So how did this come about?”
“We were both at Valentino’s for eat-in takeout, and the next thing I knew, I was wearing ugly shoes.”
“That’s probably why you don’t bowl,” Holly noted. “The shoes offend your impeccable sense of style.”
“And yet, I had a good time.”
“Because you enjoyed the game—or because you enjoyed being with Sexy White Roses Guy?”
“He is sexy,” Rachel acknowledged. “And charming and interesting and funny.”
“Uh-oh.”
She frowned. “Uh-oh—what?”
“One date and you’re falling for him already.”
“It wasn’t a date and I’m not falling for him.”
Holly didn’t look convinced. “I’m all for you finally ending your ridiculous dating hiatus, but I don’t want you getting hung up on somebody else who isn’t available.”
“I’m not hung up on him.”
“You went bowling with him—and you don’t bowl.”
Rachel sighed. “Our options were limited.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“That wouldn’t stop most guys I know from making a move,” her friend noted. “Then again, most guys I know don’t wear wedding bands—even the ones who are married.”
Rachel waited until her friend finished then she said, “Actually, I kissed him.”
“What?”
“It was a thank-you,” she explained. “An impulse.”
“Was there tongue?”
She rolled her eyes. “I touched my lips to his cheek.”
“Oh.” Holly sounded disappointed. “I’m not sure that even counts as a kiss.”
“Then I guess I didn’t kiss him.”
“When you kissed him, did you feel those little flutters in your belly?”
“Make up your mind—did I kiss him or not?”
“That depends on whether or not there were flutters.”
There had been definite flutters, and her heart had raced and her knees had gone weak. But she wasn’t prepared to admit any of that to her friend.
“Customer,” she said, when the bell over the door jangled.
“We’re not done with this conversation,” Holly warned.
But more customers kept her busy in the front of the shop so that Holly was unable to continue her interrogation. And when Rachel left work at two o’clock, she was confident that she’d kept the truth about her feelings for Andrew Garrett to herself.
Chapter Three
Saturday afternoon, Andrew was in his home workshop assembling a sideboard when his middle brother stopped by.
Nathan walked around the piece, giving it a thorough examination. “Nice—but not your usual style.”
“It’s for Ed and Carol’s dining room.” The Wakefields were his in-laws—or maybe they were former in-laws. Andrew wasn’t sure if the death of his wife changed the relationship between himself and her parents. Either way, they were still his daughter’s grandparents.
“Don’t they know that you’re the VP of Product Research and Design for a multibillion-dollar furniture company now and not just a carpenter?”
“I’m still a carpenter,” Andrew insisted. “A fancy title doesn’t change that.”
“And a damn good one,” Nate agreed, continuing his inspection of the work. “Is this an original design?”
He nodded. “Ed wanted something special for Carol, for their fortieth anniversary.”
“When’s that?”
“Not until October. But I had the time now, so I figured I’d get started.”
“Mom and Dad’s fortieth is in May,” Nathan reminded him. “And Mom wants a party.”
“She always wants a party. Do you remember Maura’s first birthday? She invited sixty people.”
“It was a kick-ass first birthday,” his brother agreed.
“I can only imagine how many people she’ll invite to a fortieth wedding anniversary.”
“Apparently we’re supposed to do the inviting.”
“Huh?”
Nate nodded. “She said that proper etiquette requires the party be hosted by someone other than the anniversary couple. Preferably the couple’s children.”
“Not if she wants it done right,” Andrew noted.
“Daniel suggested we hire an event planner.”
“Not a bad idea,” he admitted. “And since it was his idea, he should look into that.”
Nate went to the mini-fridge and took out a couple of beers. He twisted the caps off both, then handed one to his brother. “Speaking of anniversaries—I stopped by last night.”
Andrew tipped the bottle to his lips. “So...today is the twenty-four-hour anniversary of your visit?”
“Okay, I guess that wasn’t a very good segue.”
“What are you trying to segue into?”
“Asking where you were last night.”
“Did we have plans that I forgot about?”
“No—but it was Valentine’s Day.”
Andrew slapped his hand to his forehead. “And I didn’t even get you a card.”
“You’re a funny guy,” Nate said, his tone devoid of amusement.
“Yes, it was Valentine’s Day,” he agreed. “And Maura was with the Wakefields and I was hungry, so I went to Valentino’s to grab a bite to eat. I ran into someone I know, so we had dinner together and then went bowling.”
“I assume this ‘someone’ you know is female?”
“Yes, she’s female. No, it wasn’t a date.”
“You’ve grieved long enough,” Nathan told him.
“I’m not still grieving,” Andrew told him. “Yeah, I still miss Nina sometimes—” which was a vast improvement over the “all the time” that he’d missed her and looked for her in the first year after her death. “But it’s not like I’ve put my life on hold.”
“It’s exactly like you’ve put your life on hold,” his brother countered. “Or is there another explanation for the fact that you haven’t had a relationship with anyone else since Nina died?”
“I’ve been on dates,” he protested, although they both knew that he’d only been out a handful of times since his wife’s death—the first being only about six months ago.
“A few first dates and not a single second date.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t met anyone that