War and Roses by Kat Baxter

Chapter 5

Bethany

The worst part about having a wicked ugly scar right between my breasts is really just that I live in Texas and it's hot as the damn sun here. So, while I don't feel comfortable wearing low-cut shirts that show said scar, I fully embrace sleeveless shirts despite my meaty arms. Because the truth is, I do like myself.

I've got beautiful, thick, dark curly hair. That combined with my fair complexion really makes my bright blue eyes pop. I don't think I'm ugly. But I do think my scar is ugly. I hate it. And I hate the way people stare at it when it's exposed. So, for the most part, I wear shirts that cover it up.

While I hate the scar, I am glad it's there because it means I'm here, walking and talking and living.

I've been at Petal Pushes, the flower shop where I work, since about six this morning. We don't open that early, but I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to get started on some arrangements. June and July are wedding season here in Texas. Which makes very little sense to me considering the aforementioned temperature of the sun. But people want what they want. So here I am, creating a bouquet out of pink and white peonies.

It's an hour and a half later when, Maggie, my boss--who also happens to be my friend--blows in.

"Are you still not sleeping?" she growls as she walks in.

"It really is a good thing you're not a baker. You are not a nice morning person. Drink your coffee faster," I tell her.

She snorts. "Whatever, Mary-Sunshine. Also, I'm a shit baker."

"This, I know. I'm pretty sure I chipped a tooth on those blondies you made at Christmas."

"Now, who's not being nice?"

I spin around on my stool and face her. "Since you're already grumpy, I will tell you that Brooks left two more voicemails and also sent an email to the shop. He really needs to talk to you." I hold up my hands. "His words, not mine."

"He and I have nothing to discuss."

"Someday you're going to tell me that entire story."

She drops her purse on the desk amidst a sea of paperwork and then collapses in the chair. "There is not enough tequila in the state of Texas for that conversation."

I shake my head in confusion. This man, Brooks--obviously someone from her past because, otherwise, I'd know him--has been trying to get in touch with her for the last two weeks. She refuses to tell me who he is and she's not even the tiniest bit curious as to what he wants. The mystery of the entire situation is driving me a bit bonkers, but she won't budge. Maggie is a vault when she wants to be. "But he isn't an ex-boyfriend?"

She spins away from me and looks at the order slips that I've sorta organized for her. "He isn't anything."

And that's my cue to cease pestering her about him. Whoever this Brooks guy is, I know two things: one, he's got a really sexy deep voice and two, he's persistent.

"I don't think I've had enough coffee to start on the Clifton wedding flowers," Maggie moans, then drops her head on her arms.

"Would it make you feel better if I went to Java Bean and got you a muffin and an espresso?" I ask.

She looks at me and I swear her eyes turn to animated hearts. "Would you? You're too good to me."

"Of course I will. I need to stretch my legs a little anyway. Besides, I am the Sookie to your Lorelai." I hop down from my stool and grab my purse, then go out the backdoor and head to the coffee shop down the street.

Twenty minutes later, I come back into the shop laden down with caffeine for Maggie and an iced tea for myself. I can hear her talking to a gentleman in the front of the shop and I'm about to walk around the lattice partician, but I stop when I hear my name.

My entire body freezes. It's like the blood in my veins slows and my breathing stutters. I can't hear all of the man's words, but I definitely hear his name.

Jacob Blackmore.

Oh my God! How did he find me? Why is he here? My heart thunders in my ears and I fumble with my cell phone and type out a message to Maggie. I'm all thumbs, but finally manage to get the words typed correctly without any random numbers or symbols tossed in.

ME: I'm not here. Tell him I'm not here!

I move my body so I'm not directly behind the lattice because he'd obviously be able to tell someone was back here. But I can't see him. Or rather, he can't see me.

Dammit! Why is he here?

I know he's told me several times that he wanted to meet me in person, but last I heard he was still in active service. Is he just on leave? And he came here instead of going home to see his dad who has been sick for more than a year? That doesn't sound like the man I know.

Okay, I don't actually know him. But we have been exchanging letters and emails for the last nine months. So I feel like I know something about his quality of character. He's a good guy. The best guy.

"I'm not really sure," Maggie says in an exaggeratedly loud voice. "She called in sick. Said she wasn't feeling well. But I can tell her you stopped by."

There's a low murmur of his deep voice and then I hear the bells jingle over the door as he leaves. Two seconds later Maggie comes flying around the partician.

"Who is that?!"

I wince. I've told her some things about Jacob, but not much. "I believe that was my soldier pen pal."

"Why didn't you want to see him?" She pops her fists on her hips and looks at me like I've sprouted a second head. "Bethany, that man is sex on a stick. Dipped in chocolate. And served with a cup of perfectly crafted coffee."

I snort, then shrug. "It doesn't matter. He's just a pen-pal."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Please tell me you're not that stupid?"

"I don't even know what you're trying to tell me. What did he say? He's probably just in town for some Army business and thought he'd look me up while he was here. It's not a big deal."

"You've been talking to this guy a while, right?"

"Nine months."

Maggie's eyes bug a little. "Nine months and you think he just looked you up in passing?"

I shrug again. "Probably. I don't know." I exhale slowly and hand her her muffin and espresso. "It doesn't matter."

She takes a huge gulp of her drink and sighs in pleasure. "What is this really about? He seemed really nice and if, like you said, he's just passing through, then maybe he just wanted to go to lunch or something. Don't you want to meet him?"

"Yes, I do, but it's not that simple."

"I know the caffeine hasn't hit fully yet, but I'm not following. You're going to have to spell it out for me, oh mysterious one."

It's my turn to snort. "Your capacity for empathy in the morning is staggering." I tilt my head back, closing my eyes and release a loud groan. "The last few months, he's hinted at wanting something more with me, and I just can't."

Her grey eyes narrow. "Is this about your scar?"

"I know you don't understand, Mags, I get it. But I've seen the way men look at it. They don't want it, don't want me, and I do not have the strength to go through that again. Especially with him."

She shakes her head. "This is about that jackhole Brent. But you know he had some serious issues. You don't stay with a woman when she's unhealthy, then dump her when she gets a clean bill of health." She points at me with her muffin. "That shit is not normal."

I shake my head. I'm not discussing Brent. "He's history, and whatever his reasons were for breaking things off with me, they don't matter anymore."

"Fair enough. So then why not at least meet the hot soldier? You're all covered up." She motions to my high-neck shirt. "What would be the harm in seeing him right now?"

"I wasn't prepared."

"So you'll see him later? Because he left his phone number."

I mumble noncommittally.

"You're scared and you're going to just keep things in writing and never pursue someone that could be your soulmate?"

"Can we talk about Brooks now?" I snap.

She shoves a piece of muffin in her mouth, chews, then swallows. Her glare is almost comical. "Touché."