Love in Bloom: Haven, #2

By Beth Gildersleeve

Wren Busch is determined to stand on her own two feet. After sidelining her painting dreams to support her ex's law ambitions, she's ready to turn over a new leaf as small-town Haven's resident florist. So when a handsome lawyer struts into her shop, she's not about to let another smooth-talking suitor throw her creative passions off course…

 

Miller Lynch would do anything to make partner. But his plans for courtroom domination hit a stumbling block when his newest case has him squaring off with the alluring town florist. And getting roped into co-planning their mutual friends' wedding only adds fuel to their too-hot-to-handle rivalry.

 

With both their futures at stake, can Wren and Miller follow their hearts without losing sight of their dreams?

 

If you like sassy humor and true-to-life characters, then buy Love in Bloom today to dig into this charming romantic rivalry!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Gildersleeve
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393390671

Beth Gildersleeve

Beth Gildersleeve lives for a happily ever after, especially when it's part of a contemporary sweet romance story. Beth's a big fan of Dr. Brené Brown and her work around shame, vulnerability, and bravery. Her characters' struggles and successes reflect these themes. When Beth isn't plotting or writing, she's busy Googling answers to her adult daughters' questions (they still think she knows everything), finding misplaced items for her husband of almost thirty years, serving her rescued dogs' needs, losing at Words with Friends, and searching for the last three books to complete her Betty Neels collection. She is a member of RWA and Northern Lights Writers.

Book preview

Love in Bloom

Beth Gildersleeve

Copyright © 2018 by Beth Gildersleeve

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published in the United States of America

Edited by Ink Deep Editing

Cover Design by Michele Hauf

Welcome to Haven!

Welcome to Haven!

There are a lot of hot-and-steamy or clean-and-wholesome romances out there, but this isn’t one of them. My books are somewhere in the middle, with mild cursing and some physical intimacy. I hope you enjoy it. Please remember to leave a star rating at the end of the story or head back to wherever you bought it and leave a review. If you want more, go to my website, where you can see my other books and you can join my mailing list. You’ll get a free Haven novella as a thank-you.

www.BethGildersleeve.com.

Contents

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Chapter 15

16.Chapter 16

Epilogue

17.Preview - Love in Chaos

Also By

About Author

Friday, Labor Day Weekend

Miller took a long swig of his Kaliber non-alcoholic beer and grabbed a few onion rings from the basket Parker had just set down on the table. His appointment calendar at work was full for the next two weeks, and his billable hours had increased over last month, the sixteenth month in a row. The partners at Anderson, Anderson & Swanson seemed pleased with his performance. They’d even hinted this afternoon that Miller was well on his way to making partner next year. Life is good, he thought as he wiped the salty grease from his fingers.

Summer had run its course and fall was fast on its heels. Fall was Minnesota at its best. Bright skies, leaves showing their true colors of orange, yellow, or crimson, the acrid smell of bonfires in the evenings, the crunch of dried leaves underfoot, and coaching youth soccer.

Miller couldn’t wait to get back to his boys. He’d been coaching them for the last four years and they were now a feisty band of middle schoolers. He hoped this was the year he funneled more of their enthusiasm into solid skills, like passing and receiving. Last season, the single moms had been more adept at making passes than their sons were. Their target was Miller, but he blocked their plays and made sure they never scored.

Romantic involvement was the last thing on his agenda. He had a plan. Make law partner by age thirty-one, then get married, and eventually start a family. Miller was a planner. His first goal was only a year away. Once he accomplished that, he’d make dating a priority and try to see one woman for more than a few dates. That is, if he could find someone who held his interest. So far, that hadn’t happened.

Unlike the three determined women heading straight for them. This should be interesting, he thought as he watched them move through the Galley. It was packed, as usual on a Friday night, and the threesome moved with their heads turning every which way, like they were searching for something or someone.

Krista steamrolled her way through the patrons like a locomotive. Her dark brown ponytail zigged when she zagged. Miller knew Krista had two speeds—warp and off—which was useful in her role as the food and beverage manager at the Haven Hart Hotel.

Rica tried to keep up, but while Krista plowed through, Rica politely went around people. She was determined yet conscientious, the same way she was with her financial clients. And then there was the reluctant florist, Wren. She was the caboose on this train set. While Krista and Rica looked like they were on a mission, Wren looked like she’d rather desert.

Miller didn’t know her that well, and he sensed she’d like to keep it that way. He suspected she’d rather hit him than hit on him. Which was odd. Most women loved him, and they appreciated his jet-black hair and bright blue eyes. After all, he’d paid his way through college and law school by modeling. While he was no longer at his modeling weight and his six-pack abs had lost some of their definition—OK most of their definition, he thought honestly as he snagged another onion ring and fried cheese curd—he knew he still turned heads.

But Wren Busch was different. She wasn’t interested. He didn’t think she was playing hard to get in order to get his attention. No, she only seemed interested in avoiding him.

Miller watched the graceful way her willowy body moved through the crowd. Like Krista and Rica, she was searching, but at a more languid pace. She eventually scanned the center of the room and when their eyes met, Miller heated up, an odd reaction given her glacial stare. Opposing counsel gave Miller that stare, not women. Wren Busch challenged him, and he loved a good challenge.

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Life sucks , reflected Wren as she, Rica, and Krista walked across the Galley. She was short-handed at work and bone-tired. It was nobody’s fault but her own. She’d foolishly told her assistant to take a few days off since it was slow at Wallflowers, her floral shop, and they were heading into the Labor Day weekend. How could she have known Haven would be besieged with birthdays, baby deliveries, and funerals?

She’d started the morning earlier than usual so she could finish the flowers for the Johnson memorial service, and she’d ended the day with bridezilla and momma bridezilla for a wedding consultation. They wanted lilacs for a December wedding at the price point of carnations and mums. God, help the groom, she prayed as she remembered the meeting.

It had been a long day, and it didn’t help that the days were getting shorter. She didn’t mind fall, which was right around the corner, but she hated winter when Mother Nature replaced warm days and cool nights with cold days and frigid nights. She’d been through two Minnesota falls and winters, and while she appreciated the beauty of fall, she longed to be like the snowbirds who moved south in the winter. Life was hard enough without having to deal with Old Man Winter. And shoveling. And practical boots.

To add to her sour mood, their friend Emily had stood them up for dinner! Emily hadn’t answered her phone or responded to their text messages That wasn’t like her and the three women had picked it apart over their meals. They’d explored every possibility, ranging from Emily displaying passive-aggressive displeasure at their behavior during her closet purge a few weeks earlier to her lying dead in a ditch.

Wren didn’t think it was resentment over the closet purge. Emily had seemed truly appreciative of the support and advice they’d given her about her wardrobe and about Jackson. Since Emily lived near downtown and worked there too, she walked a lot, so Rica argued against the dead-in-a-ditch theory. Krista, however, wasn’t convinced by either argument. Against Wren’s better judgment, Krista had convinced her and Rica to go to the Galley to see if anyone there knew anything. That would also give Emily a chance to respond to their messages before Krista carried through on her threat and called the sheriff.

Smack dab in the middle of the crowded bar sat every single woman’s dream and Wren’s worst nightmare: Miller Lynch. Six feet of muscular, blue-eyed yumminess. The fact that the grapevine reported he was a decent human being, even though he was a lawyer, didn’t help. Wren avoided him like the plague because liking him would derail her new life.

Krista headed right toward Miller’s table. Wren hoped the men would have an answer. She wanted to go home, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew Emily was safe.

Guys, Krista all but shouted at the men, has anyone seen Emily? The men exchanged glances and shook their heads no.

Will left for the restroom a few minutes ago. He’s your best bet. As Emily’s assistant, he knows her calendar, Croix said.

Ladies, Parker said as he stood up, why don’t you sit down while you wait? I’ll go get you all something to drink. Wren caught the pointed looks he sent to Croix and Miller. Finally, both men remembered their manners and stood.

Sit. Miller edged the chair closer to Wren.

No, thank you, she said in clipped tones. She turned her attention toward the television monitor on the far wall.

Come on. You look tired. I bet you’ve been on your feet all day. Please, sit, he encouraged.

I am tired and I know I look it. You didn’t need to point it out. She shook her head at his rudeness.

You don’t look ugly-tired, you just look tired-tired. Seriously, Captain Obvious? Wren shot him an icy glare and crossed her arms, but Miller stood his ground. Look, we can stand here and argue, or we can sit down and argue. The choice is yours, but eventually I’d like to sit. If I sit and you don’t, these clowns will give me grief about it until the day I die, Miller explained.

So, it’s more about self-preservation than kindness?

Honestly? It’s a bit of both, he conceded with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. Wren studied him for a moment. She was tired, and he was trying to be nice about it in a slightly manipulative way. If she didn’t sit, he’d look bad in front of his friends and the Galley’s patrons. She knew how important image was to a lawyer.

Thank you, Wren said reluctantly as she dropped onto the wooden chair. I have been on my feet all day and it does feels good to sit. She gave him a weak smile.

Move over, Rica. That’s my seat, Parker ordered as he placed a bottle of chilled Riesling on the table along with three empty wine glasses. Rica frowned but moved over to share her chair. Parker settled in and poured the wine. Wren noticed he looked quite pleased with himself and with his new seatmate. Krista and Croix also shared a chair.

Miller was the only one left standing. If he wanted to sit, it would either have to be with her or with Will, if he ever returned. Jeez, I hope he didn’t get detained by Cheri and her hens back by the pool tables. We’ll never see him. As much as she wanted to see angelic Will paired with the devilish Miller, she didn’t think two grown men would fit on the same chair. The image of them squished together almost brought a smile to her face.

Fine. Sit, Wren huffed, making room for Miller on the wooden chair. She told herself she didn’t have a choice since everyone else was seated. Besides, she didn’t have the energy to argue anymore with the handsome lawyer. Yep, her nightmare had come to life. She was stuck sharing a seat with pretty-boy Miller. Good thing she was immune to pretty boys.

Why, that’s very generous of you, he teased. Their comfortable table for four was a now an uncomfortable table for seven. Miller angled his body toward Wren and draped his arm around the back of their chair. It created more shoulder room for Miller and Parker, but it brought Miller closer to Wren. Their heads almost touched, and she felt his deep inhale. Nice fragrance. What is it?

Wren glared over her shoulder. Work, she said and then turned her attention back to the others. She felt Miller lean close to her ear.

Are you always this thorny or is it just me? The deep timbre of his voice struck a chord inside her and she forgot how to breathe. Maybe she wasn’t immune to pretty boys after all. She’d have to work on that. Wren turned to face him and from the predatory gleam in his eyes, she decided it would be safer to play nice. She could do nice when she needed to.

When she’d moved to Haven, she’d hoped she wouldn’t need to use her fake-social-politeness skills, which she’d honed to perfection at her former mother-in-law’s side in Knoxville. She was wrong. She used those accommodating, suck-up skills every single day in her business, and tonight she had to use them in her leisure.

I’m sorry. You were right. I am tired. My back aches, my feet burn, and I’m worried about Emily. She searched his piercing blue eyes, hoping for understanding or at least not another squabble.

Apology accepted. No one’s at their best when they’re tired and worried. She tried not to squirm as he studied her. Are you hungry? I’ll order some more appetizers. Miller raised his arm to flag down one of the fast-moving servers before Wren answered.

No. We’re good. We ate. Thank you. She tugged his arm to bring it down; a very solid, warm arm. She’d been in the man’s presence for less than five minutes and she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone keep her hands to herself. Wren seriously worried about her immunity; smart, good-looking, and considerate would be fatal to her system. As a booster shot, she remembered her soon-to-be-ex-husband and scooted to the very edge of their seat.

OK. Miller put his arm around the back of their chair again and glanced at her. Looks like Will’s headed this way. Let’s see if we can get you some answers. He turned back to the table and bellowed, Will, where’s Emily?

Six pairs of eyes turned to the burly, blond man as he settled into his chair. Will leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. Wren thought he was enjoying the attention too much, but she didn’t blame him. It must be hard fitting into this group of slightly older overachievers.

Last I saw of her, she and Jackson were heading to a board of directors meeting with some out-of-towners.

Any idea who they were? Parker asked.

No clue. The time was blocked out on his calendar starting at three o’clock, but no attendees were listed.

I know his parents and sister are booked into the hotel as well as the owner of Chance Resorts and his sons, Krista said. Knowing who the hotel guests were was one of the perks of her job.

So, let me get this straight. Jackson had a board meeting scheduled at three o’clock possibly with the owners of Chance Resorts, Parker said, the reporter in him looking for clarification. Krista and Will looked at each other and nodded their heads in agreement.

Wren noticed the other men exchange speculative looks with each other.

What was his mood like today? Parker asked.

I didn’t see him that much, but he seemed kind of jittery yet super chill at the same time. Will shrugged.

If the meeting was at three, they’d be done by now and Emily should be answering her phone, right? Wren asked Miller. Her growing concern for Emily temporarily overcame her need to keep him at arm’s length, figuratively, if not literally.

Unless Jackson had a private meeting with Emily afterwards, Miller said to the group, looking at Parker and Croix with a sly grin.

Damn! Do you think our plan worked? Croix asked Parker.

"What do you mean our plan? It was my plan. I started it," Parker bragged.

What plan and why wasn’t I included? Will sounded mad and hurt, like a tired preschooler who’d missed his nap.

Don’t get your panties in a twist, Will. You were too close to the action to know, but you served a critical role in feeding us intel. You did good. Miller raised his bottle. Parker and Croix joined in the salute to Will.

I don’t know what’s going on, but you boys better start explaining. Right. Now. Krista squinted at Croix and even Wren felt threatened.

Ask nicely, Croix insisted.

Please, Krista said after a long-suffering sigh.

Croix grinned and pointed at Parker. You tell her. It was your plan, after all.

So, Parker began the story. He told them all how earlier in the summer, he, Croix, and Miller had joked about dating Emily. After seeing Jackson’s reaction to this, he suspected Jackson’s feelings toward Emily were serious. But Jackson was too stupid to figure it out for himself and too stuck on seeing her only as a friend. They’d decided to date Emily to make Jackson jealous, and they’d also asked other men in Haven to show interest in Emily to increase the pressure. Moving Jackson was like moving a stubborn ass.

Not that spending time with Emily was a hardship, Parker clarified, when Wren gave him a disgusted look. I enjoyed our day together. She’s a great person, but not meant for my to-death-do-us-part.

Same here. She can’t take a fish off a hook or pee outdoors. Croix shook his head in disbelief.

I don’t think many women have that skill set, Rica pointed out.

Krista does, Croix bragged.

Hard to believe I’m still single, isn’t it? Krista asked no one in particular.

Anyway, Parker interjected, I’m betting our boy finally came to his senses and told Emily how he feels.

Which is? Rica sounded impatient and Wren didn’t blame her. This story was taking way too long.

That he loves her.

Then the next question is, what’s Emily going to say? Miller looked at the three women.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief. It looked like Emily and Jackson would get their happily-ever-after, after all.

Wren toyed with her wine glass, processing it all. She was happy for Emily, but she wondered how long the happiness would last. Over forty percent of marriages ended in divorce. Maybe since her marriage was one of them, Emily would be with the other sixty percent. She wanted the best for her friend, but she of all people knew that sometimes the best turned into the worst. Rica and Krista wore hopeful, dreamy looks on their faces, and Wren even saw Krista dab the corner of her eye with a napkin.

Aw, man, I hate wearing a tux and those shoes hurt, Croix complained when he finally heard what wasn’t being said.

Before we start celebrating, I’ll see if I can get a hold of Jackson. Miller stood and Wren couldn’t stop herself from watching him walk toward the back where it would be quieter.

Wren felt a mixture of relief and loss after he left, and she didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She didn’t realize she’d been relaxing on him until he’d moved. He’d served as her own personal recliner.

Miller Lynch was a dangerous man. Not in a criminal way, but in a he-has-the-potential-to-steal-everything-she’s-worked-so-hard-for way.

Wren didn’t know him that well. She’d made it a practice to avoid him as much as possible. But she knew the type. Heck, she’d married the type. Intelligent, attractive, successful, crazy ambitious. In their group of friends, everyone knew Miller had one goal: to make partner by the age of thirty-one. She’d already helped one man make that goal and she’d lost herself in the process. No. No way. She’d worked too hard and come too far to lose herself again. She wasn’t going down that road again, no matter how tempting it may be.

Wren played with the ring on her middle right finger trying to decide what to do. If she stayed, she’d be forced to spend more time with Miller, but if she left, she wouldn’t find out about Emily, and she’d be going home to an empty, lonely apartment. Lonely, but safe. She politely covered a yawn with her left hand. That does it, Wren decided. Let’s go while the going’s good. She drained the last of her Riesling, told Rica and Krista to text her with an update, said her goodbyes to the men, and skedaddled before Trouble returned.

September

I knew he was having an affair! Mrs. Nelson tossed the manila envelope at Miller. And here are the pictures to prove it. She sat down in the chair across from Miller’s desk and smiled triumphantly as she leaned back into it. Ring’s gone. Looks like a reconciliation is off the table. He didn’t blame her if the pictures showed what she said they did.

Miller tried not to cringe as he released the clasp at the back. He hated this part of the job. He hated to see the infidelity, the bad decisions that damaged lives, and he really hated to look at the photos with the injured party sitting across from him.

Sure enough, the photos showed Mr. Nelson getting out of his car, walking into the house, and being greeted by a young busty blond wearing a little bit of lace. The photos showed that the scraps of lace didn’t last long. As Miller flipped through the photos he marveled at the stupidity of people. Of men. Looks like they were too busy to close the curtains. That will work in your favor.

Ironically, these may be the only photos in existence that show my husband smiling, Mrs. Nelson said.

I’m sorry. Miller shoved the photos back in the envelope and set it aside.

Don’t be. He did this to himself, to us. She took a deep breath. What happens next?

Well, normally this wouldn’t impact the settlement, but I’ve reviewed your prenup and there is a stipulation on infidelity. These photos are your bargaining chip. What would you like?

Everything, Mrs. Nelson purred.

I can’t promise you everything, but I’ll do what I can to get you close to everything, Miller reassured her. As I mentioned at our last meeting, it would help if we had an idea how long this affair has been going on and if we had another source of evidence.

I know he’s sent her flowers. I found the charge on the credit card statement, but he dismissed it as a business expense. Mrs. Nelson rummaged through her large Prada handbag to find the credit card statement. She handed it to Miller. He saw the charge from Wallflowers highlighted amongst the grocery and gas station purchases.

If you find anything else, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll follow up on this charge, see if there are any others, and let your husband’s attorney know what we’ve found.

Thank you, Mr. Lynch. So far, you have lived up to your reputation.

Miller stood as Mrs. Nelson left the room. This case was shaping up to be a good one. He didn’t like cheating spouses, but he did like making them pay. And he liked the additional billable hours this one would bring.

He hoped it would placate the penny-pinching partners when they reviewed his pro bono work. While Miller billed a lot, he also gave away more hours in free work than the partners liked. Miller couldn’t help it. If someone needed his skills, he didn’t want to turn them away just because they couldn’t afford Anderson, Anderson & Swanson.

This case also gave him a good reason to visit Wallflowers. He had a hunch, however, that Wren would not be happy to see him.

Miller turned to watch the sheets of rain blow past the front windows. Luckily, Wallflowers was in the same downtown building as Anderson, Anderson & Swanson. He shouldn’t get too wet running next door and he didn’t think God would strike him down, even though he was a lawyer.

Miller hurried as the cold, fat drops pelted him. He pulled Wallflowers’ front door closed behind him and looked around. The only thing the two businesses had in common was the wall they shared. Anderson, Anderson & Swanson reeked of staid, conservative professionalism while Wallflowers was light and whimsical and smelled of spicy carnations. There was color everywhere he looked.

Wren’s small flower shop was perfect. There was a cooler in the corner with ready-to-go arrangements and small bouquets, and the opposite wall had locally made gifts: fragrant candles, note cards featuring the beauty of Haven, jewelry, chocolates, and other items. It was warm and welcoming, unlike the lady scowling at him from behind the well-worn counter separating the retail area from the work area. Yep, not happy, so probably not agreeable, either. Best to treat her like a hostile witness. I’ll ask simple yes or no questions, if necessary.

Hello, Miller, she greeted coolly as she set down the small knife in her hand. Her fingers were slim and quick as she pulled a pen out from her stubby ponytail and