“He knew you were smart and savvy; I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a small fortune with your name on it.”

I groaned. Not another estate to deal with.

“He probably figured you’d do good things with his money, Tar. He didn’t have any children or family; who else could he leave it to?” I heard someone speaking to Ryan in the background. “Listen, hon, I’ve got to go.

I’ll call you later.”

Marie carried our little stepstool behind the bar. “I heard you say you wanted to put Jimmy Pop up there. We can move the Patrón and Cabo Wabo over and then you’ll have room.”

She handed down a bottle just as another flower delivery was being made. Mike had sent flowers to Marie only two days ago; I wondered if he was kissing up for a specific reason.

This batch of flowers, however, was less than impressive. It looked like the kind you buy at the grocery store.

The deliveryman was tall and young, maybe mid-thirties, but with severely thin-ning brown hair that did that eight-strand greased comb-over on the bald head thing.

He wore tinted glasses that were too large for his face. He might have had those same glasses since they were popular in the eighties. What was even creepier was that he was completely focused on me.

I was glad there was a thick bar separating us. “Can I help you?”

He was nervous; I could see his jitters physically shaking him. “I have flowers a . . .

a delivery, Tah . . .” He seemed slightly confused as his eyes locked on mine. “For you.” Marie came down off the ladder, immediately putting him under her scrutiny. We had just opened the bar for business and there were no customers.

I nodded at the bouquet. “Thank you. You can leave them at the end of the bar there, okay?”

The deliveryman didn’t move, just continued to oddly stare at me with a deer-caught-in-headlights look.

Marie’s gaze was guarded as she scanned him with trepidation. “What flower shop do you work for? There is never a store name on the ones you deliver.”

He took a step backward, appearing ready to flee, as she took a step forward, reaching her hand in the two-and-a-half-inch gap between the top of the new front-load cooler and the underside of the bar.

“I, um . . . they’re for Ms. Mitchell. I’m . . .

I just wanted to give her . . . flowers.” I watched Marie out of the corner of my eye, hesitant to take my eyes off the stranger.

Marie’s hand obviously found what she was looking for; her hand started to withdraw.

He was wearing a short-sleeved, blue button-down shirt and what looked like uniform pants, but nothing about what he wore indicated he was a deliveryman. “They’re just flowers,” he continued to explain. “Women like men who bring them flowers. It’s cus-tomary. It’s part of the whole wooing process.”

Marie’s questioning glare was agitating him. I wanted him to drop off his stupid flowers and leave. He was creeping me out.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.” I tried to smile, hoping that would be enough to let him know I was appreciative. “But, sorry, I can’t accept them. I’m engaged and not—”

“Taryn,” Marie snapped in a hushed whisper.

“I’ve been trying different ones,” he continued to mutter, talking to the flowers this time.

What?

“I know you hate daisies and carnations.

Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson with those. They always end up in the Dumpster in the alley. You tend to keep the roses longer—like a week until they wilt. I check to see which ones you don’t like all the time. Do you press them in books?”

Press them? He’d lost me. I’d never seen any roses or any other flowers for that matter. “Pardon?”

“The ones you keep?” His mouth turned up into a quirky smile. “The red ones? There were a dozen but only ten were thrown away.

I counted them. It upset me at first that you’d just toss them away, but then I realized that it was the flowers you didn’t like. I know you can’t keep them all, even though I hoped you would. If you put them in wax paper they keep longer. I’ll only get you roses from now on.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what—”

“They remind me of your lips—soft and red. You kept the red ones the longest.” Marie waved her hand low and urgently at me. “I’ll handle this, Taryn,” she growled out, never taking her eyes off the guy.

He frowned at Marie, glaring at her.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” the weirdo reprimanded.

“Listen carefully, sir. Do not deliver any more flowers to Ms. Mitchell. You are no longer welcome in this establishment. Do not attempt to contact her in any way. Please take your flowers and leave—immediately. I will contact the police if you refuse to leave or if you attempt to return. Do you understand?”

He looked wounded; his lips were moving but no words came out, which alarmed me even more. Adrenaline was pumping through my blood. I started mentally assessing escape routes and defense maneuvers—the pub telephone was behind me to dial 911, but that would be too obvious and not stealthy enough. My cell was in my pocket, but I’d have to unlock the screen first. The security panel for the upstairs hallway was too far away. Our trusty baseball bat was in the corner but I’d have to step around Marie and the small stepladder to reach it.

“Do you see the cameras up there in the corner?” Marie pointed.

Cameras? When the hell did we get cameras? We’d talked about them but that was just talk as the system was expensive.

Someone is going to get their ass chewed out for failing to inform me that I now have a surveillance system installed inside my pub.

My unwelcomed suitor gazed up at them, appearing just as puzzled as I was.

Marie was assured and composed. “Now the security company has your picture.” This definitely pissed him off. He paid no attention to Marie. He was mad at me. “All I wanted was to finally take you on a date and you make me feel like some, some common criminal? Who do you think you are? You think you’re better than me? I’ll have you know that I have my master’s degree in chemical engineering! Perhaps you would have found that out prior to wanting to call the cops on me, hmm?”

Marie cautioned him with a new, soothing voice. “Sir, calm down.”

“No! I will not calm down! After all of the money I’ve spent to get you to like me? You women are all the same. You flaunt your bodies, enticing men to be attracted to you, and then what do you do? You cut them off at the knees as if they were helpless soldiers wandering the desert, just begging for a sip of water.”