Text Me Read online

“Come on. Girls love tough men and tough men don’t smell like flowers.”

  “Are you telling me you’re a tough guy? Here? Delivering flowers with me? Shouldn’t you be at a boxing match or at the gym? Besides, maybe guys aren’t that into flowers—but has the deodorant thing worked for you so far? I doubt it. It never hurts to add some cologne and send flowers or gifts. Maybe you should try a different approach. ”

  He bristled. She had a point. “That makes two of us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her tone of voice elevated. Should he stop before he said something incredibly stupid? Besides, who was he to give love advice? He’d just been ditched for someone else.

  “Now you’re trying to say my blind date ditched me because I smell bad?”

  “Whoa, that was a leap. Honestly, my guess would be the guy showed up, took one look at this,” Carter pointed a finger at himself, “and realized he was way out of his league. He probably thought there was no way you’d go out with him after talking to me. Smell had nothing to do with it.”

  With both hands on the wheel, she stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Seconds ticked by. “You really believe that? That someone would look at us and think we actually belonged together?”

  He winced. Of course not.

  “What difference does it make? We’re not.”

  “Not?”

  “Together.” He said it, but for the life of him he couldn’t tear his eyes away until she started the truck and put it into gear. An awkward silence sat between them as they went to the church. He helped her carry in the boxes and waited while she distributed them. He had no desire to seek out the wedding party and intertwine himself in their day. He’d never met them, so it would have been even more uncomfortable than sitting in the truck in silence.

  It didn’t stop him from staring at her as she worked and that was ridiculous.

  When she turned down the block toward her shop, she took her foot off the gas. “Where to?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your car or your apartment?”

  His mouth dropped open. Was that an invitation or his perverted mind playing tricks? She pointed to the back. “For your plants. I told you I’d drop you.”

  Whew.

  “Two blocks down on the left.”

  “What did you think I meant?”

  It wasn’t what she meant; it was what he thought that had him confused. He’d spent all of a few hours around her and, for a second, he’d actually thought she wanted sex—what the hell was wrong with him? That was like going from zero to fifty in a millisecond. Not going to happen. Not to mention he had a slight problem with commitment. An ideal problem in this situation. Quick and over might work. Could he do that?

  Carter noted the meticulous way Abby managed her shop and how she’d helped him with Amanda. Her laughter and the way she’d almost cried when she looked at the wedding fiasco they just left.

  Nope.

  Chapter Nine

  At ten the following Monday, Abby’s phone announced a series of text messages but she was tied up. Literally. She had ribbon everywhere as she readied another group of deliveries for her next wedding rehearsal. A call came in for a funeral and she switched gears to prepare a suitable wreath.

  “Are you going to answer any of those messages, or do I have to listen to your phone bleep all morning?” Caroline’s snarky response wasn’t really impatience over the noise.

  If Abby knew anything, Caroline wanted to hear the latest on Carter.

  “If it bothers you that much, answer it yourself.” She hadn’t been serious but when Caroline dove over the counter for her purse, she squealed and intercepted.

  Caroline’s spiked hair ruffled as she tried to grab the device away. “Don’t tell me to answer then change your mind. You know I’ll do it.”

  “Yeah, and if I remember correctly—that’s how this all started. You answered a random message from a mistaken guy and somehow I ended up in a big mess of confusion.”

  “You know, a lot of people would say it wasn’t a mistake—in fact, if you believe in karma or fate—it was bound to happen. No mistake involved.”

  “Oh my God, the next thing I know you’ll call yourself some type of messenger or medium. He got me all mixed up, that’s all. I should never have answered. Correction. You should never have answered. He would have eventually figured it out.”

  Caroline grinned. “Hey, you’re the one that decided to actually go to the restaurant, not me.” She held up both hands and widened her eyes in a challenge. “Don’t blame me if you can’t hang with it.”

  “Hang with it? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Hang with lying my ass off to the guy?” Abby whipped the phone up and scrolled through the first messages. From his friends. For some reason, she was now in a group text. Would one of them see the errant number and expose her?

  “No. It means—you should tell him. Tell him about the messages, only do it in person so you can spend a little more time with him before he realizes you’ve been spying on him all this time.”

  “I wasn’t spying.”

  Caroline raised an eyebrow. No words needed in that expression.

  “I wasn’t! He texted me, remember? I didn’t start it. Nor did I run over him with a dog. If you ask me, he’s the one that started it all. Besides—”

  Caroline snipped ribbon loose and tied up a yellow bow for the funeral arrangement. “Let’s don’t forget you still haven’t told him about his girlfriend either.”

  Abby huffed. “Ex-girlfriend. And seems to me, the person that should tell him is her. Or maybe his best friend.”

  “Who happens to be you at the moment.”

  “No, not me.”

  “You’re answering his texts as if you’re him.”

  “OKAY. I won’t answer them anymore. Besides, his real friend is a jerk.”

  “And you’ll tell him?”

  “Tell him what? About me not being Jackson—or at least not the Jackson he thinks he’s texting? Or about his ex-girlfriend’s reaction to the flowers? Or maybe the reason why she broke up with him is because of Jackson. The friend, not me. Or maybe that the blind date I thought I was meeting actually was him, which is why he never showed. Only he did. Which one? And remember, I tried to tell him about the texting.” Abby’s voice had risen to almost a yell by the time she stopped for a breath. She gulped a couple mouthfuls of air.

  Caroline patted the flower arrangement, nodded her head, and shrugged. “Hey, ease up before you pop a blood vessel. I don’t know. Pick one. I wouldn’t throw it all at him at once. He might pass out. Or deck you.”

  Badeep deep.

  The store phone jumped into action, ringing simultaneous to her text message. Abby groaned and surveyed her phone’s screen again, which gave Caroline just the break needed to grab it and run to the back of the shop.

  She pointed at the desk. “Answer that.”

  Abby checked the store phone, recognized her parents’ number, and silently thanked her decision to put the added expense of caller ID on the bill. She wasn’t ready to face the music yet—she still wanted to bask in the fairy tale idea of business ownership.

  “Holy shit!” Caroline’s head was glued to the texts. “Did you see these group messages?”

  “Some of them. Hey, I thought you said I needed to stop spying and set him straight.”

  Caroline’s voice was mockingly low and masculine. “There really is a running chick? Yeah, nearly killed her with the neighbor’s dog. You weren’t with the neighbor? No, just helping with the dog. Good. No warts? No, she’s nice. Seeing her again? Already did. Twice. Damn, that was fast.” Caroline giggled. “You know one of these guys is a real jerk. He said, ‘So the tits are real?’”

  “What! He did not!” Abby ran to her side and peered over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at the words. “I thought you were joking.”

  “Nope. It gets worse. Look.” Caroline handed over the phone and Abby read the others.

 
Well, are they?

  Carter: Not answering

  Is that I’m sleeping w her so can’t tell or don’t know ’cause she ditched me 2?

  Carter: Screw you

  Oh, well good luck w her. You’ll get there

  Carter: Should I repeat?

  Lunch at Fadi’s. Who’s in?

  Me

  Me but can’t go til 12:30

  Me too

  Carter: U just want the details

  Damn straight

  12:30 then

  Carter: I’m busy

  Rog, drag him w u

  No problem

  “That’s it,” Abby huffed. “I’m calling him right now and getting out of this.”

  Caroline yanked the phone away. “You’re just mad because he thought your boobs were fake. Think about it this way—they’re so perfect, he didn’t think they could possibly be real. From a guy, that’s a compliment. Besides, you’re so upset if you call him now, you’ll bite his head off. No, I have a better idea. I think we should crash this lunch party. Grab your purse.”

  Abby dropped her hands to her hips and shook her head. “No.”

  “Why not? We could pretend we were just in the neighborhood.”

  “Who’d watch the shop while we’re gone? I’m not closing just so we can continue this horrible charade.”

  “I know! I’ll go talk to him and tell him about the phone mess-up, and you can stay here.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Abby didn’t believe a word.

  “No, but I’d eavesdrop and see what he’s saying about you. How’s that for a friend?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “And you tell me I’m bad.”

  The door jangled as Caroline yanked it open. “Oh, honey—you haven’t seen bad yet. This is better than any damned reality show! Be back in an hour.” She waved fingers and rushed out before Abby could stop her.

  Abby wanted to laugh. Abby hadn’t described Carter, and Caroline had yet to meet him. So Caroline had no idea who she was looking for.

  • • •

  A shadow appeared in Carter’s doorway and he checked the time. It had taken all of three minutes for Roger Freeman to walk down the hall to his office.

  “You ready?” Roger leaned against the door, catching his shirtsleeve on the latch.

  Roger had worked with him since college and been a friend throughout. Carter used that term loosely because Roger had a lot of frustrating quirks. Still, there was very little about him that Carter didn’t know, and vice versa. Neither could run away from their pasts. Fortunately, there’d only been a few times when he wished it possible. Roger had fallen off the radar for a while during their senior year and just after. Carter knew little other than there was a girl and he gave up asking after the first attempt. Roger nearly bit his head off when he pried.

  Whatever his friend’s problems or past, not too many men in his world were reliable enough to recommend for a job. Roger had been one then—and still was. He was a real ass around women, but when it came to work, there weren’t many Carter trusted as much as Rog. It didn’t make sense, the women thing, to a lot of people.

  Carter knew it was an act, a front. Roger hadn’t a clue how to behave because he’d never had a girlfriend—except maybe that one time—and very likely never had many second dates. The guy had the most horrific manners around women. It had to be nerves because he was great around clients. Or maybe it was intentional. Who knew?

  “I said I was busy. I meant it.” Carter buried his head behind his laptop screen.

  “You’re always busy. Whatever it is, it can wait until after lunch. You haven’t gone with us in over a month.” Roger untangled himself from the door latch and dropped into the chair across from Carter’s desk.

  “We’re meeting with the bank at three and I haven’t looked at—”

  “The lease for the property on Bellaire? I have it memorized.” Roger leaned over and closed the folder Carter had splayed open. “Let’s go.”

  Carter sighed. Roger was right. Amanda had been demanding, to say the least, which was ironic, considering the situation. How had she found the time to monopolize his time as well as someone else’s? He’d all but given up his friends after dating her a month, not something he was proud of. He owed it to the guys to mend the fences and make sure he wasn’t that stupid again. No girl was worth it.

  He grabbed his keys and followed Roger out.

  Fifteen minutes later they were seated at a table near the window of Fadi’s, gulping down iced tea and Mediterranean food. The place was famous throughout the city. Not just for the taste of the food but for the quantity. No one left hungry.

  • • •

  It came as no surprise when Abby’s phone beckoned only minutes after Caroline left. She debated answering, but her curiosity interfered.

  “Okay, tall, dark, and handsome? Or blond, blue-eyed, and short?” Her voice was matter-of-fact and hushed.

  “Not playing this game, Caroline. It’s bad enough to answer the messages, but a recon mission? That’s over the top. Get back here.”

  “No can do. I think I can figure it out, anyway. There’re three or four of them, right? So that rules out a few tables. All the ones full of women can be crossed off also.” Caroline mumbled something and Abby assumed she was paying for her lunch based on the sound. “You’re really not going to help me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, you leave me no choice. I’ll just have to go around and ask them.”

  “No! Don’t you dare!” Her last word was silenced when Caroline cut her off. She dialed back but no answer. When the phone lit up with texts, she breathed a sigh of relief. And laughed herself into the flowerpots.

  The first message from Caroline had a picture of an older man with silver white hair that curled over his shirt collar. He wore a tie and had a napkin tucked into his neck to protect his clothing—a smart move since a deluge of drips soaked into it. Her message read:

  This one?

  A second later, there was a picture of the man sitting with him, a bald crown over his dark side locks. Bushy eyebrows and moustache suggested the only spot he didn’t grow hair was on top. The man was talking with food in his cheek in the picture.

  Or this one?

  Abby giggled. As if. She tapped a brief no to each. Caroline was obviously enjoying this way too much—three more pictures of similar men came through. The man with the shaved head and eyebrow tattoos was interesting, and answering yes was tempting. The response would have been wasted, since she had no way to see Caroline’s reaction.

  Abby’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she wasn’t eating and she added a few keys to the last response.

  Bring me something back when ur done sightseeing.

  Another picture came of four men at a table, mid-twenties and up, with the caption

  Eureka.

  Abby panicked. The fun screeched to a halt. Caroline had taken the picture of herself in a booth—and the men were behind her in the adjacent one. Carter was one of them. Her mouth fell open. Dammit!

  Caroline texted again.

  I’m right, aren’t I?

  Fortunately the door jangled and Abby was saved from answering. She dropped the phone into her purse and went back to work. She decided it was time to set a company policy regarding phone usage during work hours. One that included no texting or calling that harassed the owner. Since they were both owners, it would be critical they set the standard for future staffers.

  Chapter Ten

  “Where the hell is Jackson?” Roger asked their other two friends when he slid into the booth. David Fender and Garth Satrose exchanged looks and shrugged. Carter thought the lengthy silence odd.

  “I asked him,” Carter said, albeit it was in the same message everyone else had.

  “No idea.” David tore off a hunk of pita bread and scooped hummus. He shoveled the entire thing into his mouth and tore another. “I haven’t talked to him in a while. Was he joining us?”

  Carter glanced arou
nd the restaurant. The place always smelled of garlic. The hum of voices during the lunch hour made it difficult to talk. “He never answered.”

  David concentrated on the hummus and spoke through a mouthful. “He’s been pretty busy lately. Some big thing at work.”

  Carter shrugged. “He’s texted several times but hasn’t said much about work. He was supposed to meet me at the game last weekend and skipped. Glad to hear business is picking up for him.”

  Roger stared over his tea glass as he sipped. “He’s texted? What’d he say?”

  David and Garth exchanged another look. David nodded at a girl sitting behind Carter in the booth. “Check that.”

  The girl was taking pictures of herself. Carter glanced over his shoulder just as she snapped. Click. He wondered if she’d be surprised at having a guest in the photo.

  Roger leaned in over Carter and made his famous pig face—the camera clicked again. A quick gasp told him the girl responded as Roger hoped … the thud of the camera hitting the table meant she’d grown tired of her self-portraits. Or didn’t like the background.

  Carter shoved Roger’s arm. “Back off, Rog. You’ve already photo-bombed enough.”

  “Hey, just trying to make it interesting. Come on, tell us.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “You know—tell us about runner girl.”

  “Nothing to tell.”

  Roger sniffed at something he’d pulled from the food line. “Not sure what this is but thought I’d try it. So, no warts, no moles, real boobs, and she has all her teeth. Does she speak English?”

  The two men across from them coughed and Carter sighed. “That’s your idea of the perfect girl? A foreign born person who doesn’t understand you but has a great rack?”

  Roger shrugged and popped an olive in his mouth. He bit down then frowned and pulled out the pit. “I didn’t say that. It’s just—I mean, we all saw her at the park, remember? She’s out of your league, man. There has to be something wrong. If she has trouble understanding you, maybe you won’t blow it as fast.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I blew it with Amanda?”