trusted him had ended up dead.
Chapter Six
Thrasher Floral, Pearson Avenue, 3:10 p.m.
Amber wasn’t entirely convinced about this route, but she had nothing to lose beyond a little time by taking it.
“Stick to your story,” Sean reminded her. “Don’t allow your emotions to get involved.”
Amber’s jaw dropped. He did not just say that to her. “Excuse me?”
How many years had she been reporting breaking stories? She’d waited for hours in the rain and freezing cold. She had followed leads into the darkest back streets and alleys of the Magic City. She had endured the latest trends in health, fitness and fashion. She never lost her cool or came unglued. Never.
At least not until today...
“You’re a pro at digging into a story and finding the details,” he offered. “This isn’t just another story—this is your story. It might not be as easy to do.”
“I’ve got this.” Not about to debate the subject, she grabbed her bag and reached for the door. She’d barely opened it and gotten out when he moved up beside her.
“It wasn’t my intention to offend you,” he said as they crossed the sidewalk.
“You didn’t,” she lied.
He opened the door and a bell jingled. Inside the smell of flowers overwhelmed all else. As much as she loved receiving flowers, visiting a floral shop was one of her least favorite things to do. It always reminded her of funeral homes and the day she’d had to go with her mother to select flowers for her grandmother. Amber shuddered. She hated this smell.
Sean leaned closer. “You okay?”
She flashed him a frustrated smile. “I’m fine.”
Who knew how annoying having a bodyguard could be? No wonder celebrities were always coming unhinged in public. What kind of life was this? Someone watching every move a person made? Ordering that person around for her own good?
Then again, she decided as she reached the counter, there was little chance of feeling afraid...or lonely. Sean Douglas paused next to her and sent her a sideways smile. Her heart bumped into a faster rhythm. Why in the world did her bodyguard have to be so damned handsome?
“Good afternoon,” the clerk announced. “How may I help you?” She looked from Amber to Sean and back. “Do you have a special occasion coming up?”
Summoning her game smile, Amber glanced at her name tag. “Kayla, I’m Amber Roberts, and this is Sean Douglas. We’re here to speak to Mr. Thrasher.”
Kayla made an aha face. “Sure. He’s in the back working on arrangements. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Amber thanked her as she disappeared through the staff-only door behind the counter. She’d researched the shop on the way here. Peter Thrasher was the owner. His mother had opened the shop forty years ago, nearly a decade before he was born. An old lifestyle interview from the Birmingham News during Thrasher’s senior year in high school quoted him as saying flowers were his life. His mother had passed away the year before last. According to the obituary, she was preceded in death by her husband and Peter was her only child. If he had ever been married, Amber had found no announcement. Kyle Adler delivered flowers for only one floral shop, and this was the one.
The door opened once more and Peter Thrasher appeared. The six-foot-two man matched the few images she’d found in her Google search. His white button-down shirt sported the shop logo over the breast pocket. His brown hair was neatly trimmed and his brown eyes appeared overly large behind the black-rimmed glasses.
“Ms. Roberts.” He gave her an acknowledging nod. “Welcome to my shop. How can I help you? I’ve just received a beautiful shipment of fall flowers. Gerber daisies, chrysanthemums and classic roses. I’m certain I have just what you’re looking for.”
“Sounds lovely.” She reached into her purse and removed the photo of Kyle Adler she’d printed from her Google search last night. “I was hoping you could help me with a
Chapter Six
Thrasher Floral, Pearson Avenue, 3:10 p.m.
Amber wasn’t entirely convinced about this route, but she had nothing to lose beyond a little time by taking it.
“Stick to your story,” Sean reminded her. “Don’t allow your emotions to get involved.”
Amber’s jaw dropped. He did not just say that to her. “Excuse me?”
How many years had she been reporting breaking stories? She’d waited for hours in the rain and freezing cold. She had followed leads into the darkest back streets and alleys of the Magic City. She had endured the latest trends in health, fitness and fashion. She never lost her cool or came unglued. Never.
At least not until today...
“You’re a pro at digging into a story and finding the details,” he offered. “This isn’t just another story—this is your story. It might not be as easy to do.”
“I’ve got this.” Not about to debate the subject, she grabbed her bag and reached for the door. She’d barely opened it and gotten out when he moved up beside her.
“It wasn’t my intention to offend you,” he said as they crossed the sidewalk.
“You didn’t,” she lied.
He opened the door and a bell jingled. Inside the smell of flowers overwhelmed all else. As much as she loved receiving flowers, visiting a floral shop was one of her least favorite things to do. It always reminded her of funeral homes and the day she’d had to go with her mother to select flowers for her grandmother. Amber shuddered. She hated this smell.
Sean leaned closer. “You okay?”
She flashed him a frustrated smile. “I’m fine.”
Who knew how annoying having a bodyguard could be? No wonder celebrities were always coming unhinged in public. What kind of life was this? Someone watching every move a person made? Ordering that person around for her own good?
Then again, she decided as she reached the counter, there was little chance of feeling afraid...or lonely. Sean Douglas paused next to her and sent her a sideways smile. Her heart bumped into a faster rhythm. Why in the world did her bodyguard have to be so damned handsome?
“Good afternoon,” the clerk announced. “How may I help you?” She looked from Amber to Sean and back. “Do you have a special occasion coming up?”
Summoning her game smile, Amber glanced at her name tag. “Kayla, I’m Amber Roberts, and this is Sean Douglas. We’re here to speak to Mr. Thrasher.”
Kayla made an aha face. “Sure. He’s in the back working on arrangements. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Amber thanked her as she disappeared through the staff-only door behind the counter. She’d researched the shop on the way here. Peter Thrasher was the owner. His mother had opened the shop forty years ago, nearly a decade before he was born. An old lifestyle interview from the Birmingham News during Thrasher’s senior year in high school quoted him as saying flowers were his life. His mother had passed away the year before last. According to the obituary, she was preceded in death by her husband and Peter was her only child. If he had ever been married, Amber had found no announcement. Kyle Adler delivered flowers for only one floral shop, and this was the one.
The door opened once more and Peter Thrasher appeared. The six-foot-two man matched the few images she’d found in her Google search. His white button-down shirt sported the shop logo over the breast pocket. His brown hair was neatly trimmed and his brown eyes appeared overly large behind the black-rimmed glasses.
“Ms. Roberts.” He gave her an acknowledging nod. “Welcome to my shop. How can I help you? I’ve just received a beautiful shipment of fall flowers. Gerber daisies, chrysanthemums and classic roses. I’m certain I have just what you’re looking for.”
“Sounds lovely.” She reached into her purse and removed the photo of Kyle Adler she’d printed from her Google search last night. “I was hoping you could help me with a
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