"I'll never get sick of hearing that," he grinned.
"What would you pick?"
"Something purple."
"Purple?"
"Isn't that your favorite color?"
She eyed him wearily, but he only shrugged, "You wear purple at least once a week. It's not like you're the only one who gets to be observant."
"No, I guess not." She smiled, and then moved through the store with him, occasionally pausing to look at one dress or another. He was right, though. Every dress that caught her eye was purple.
Not just purple. A pretty, flowy lavender that made her think of spring. It was the exact kind of color she'd always pictured for her wedding, but she knew her mother would balk at the color.
Still, when she reached the back of the store, her gaze lighted on one dress she couldn't resist.
It was as untraditional a dress as possible. The same beautiful lavender as the others, but with off-the shoulder sleeves that would make her sister and Natalie look like fairy princesses. It was gorgeous. It was elegant.
It was on sale.
"This is beautiful."
"It looks like you," Garret smiled.
"My mother will hate it."
"All the more reason to ring it up."
That soothing warmth spread over her chest again, and though she knew she should say no, she couldn't bring herself to walk away.
"All right. Let's do it."
Garret set the bags from the dress shop in the back of the car, and then settled into the passenger's side again.
"Where to next?" He asked as he buckled his seatbelt.
"You need a tux."
"I have a tux."
"Who just has a tux laying around?"
"I am the co-owner of a multi-million dollar company."
"Hm, I guess you are." It was funny how easy it was for her to forget that sometimes. To her, he was just Garret. Funny and smart and, apparently, a dog lover.
Sure, she'd seen him looking strong and severe in meetings, but what would he look like with his thick, dark hair all slicked back and fashioned? How would his broad shoulders look in a slim-fitting suit?
"I'll admit it doesn't get a lot of use," he shrugged. "Brooks handles most of that kind of thing. He's much more apt to...mingle."
"So I've heard." She turned the corner, thinking of all the times she'd seen Brook's face at the head of page six in the newspaper. It was always under a headline that went something like 'Millionaire Playboy Plays to Win' or 'Organic Chemistry founder Making Sparks.' Needless to say, there would always be some tiny blonde pinned to his arm in each shot.
"That notorious, is he?" Garret grinned.
"I'm just amazed you don't have more broken-hearted secretaries."
"All in good time." Garret shrugged and for a moment silence fell over the car, then he went on. "Tell me about your sister."
"No. I'm not doing twenty questions with you again. I refuse."
"Oh, come on. It's not like that. I'll have to meet her, won't I?"
"I guess you will. And when you do...Let's just say that, unlike me, Eliza doesn't have a problem standing up for herself."
"I see."
"To her detriment."
"Oh?"
"She's a bit of a free spirit. She goes where the wind takes her. For a while, she was working in a traveling craft fair as a glass blower. Before that, she made organic perfumes. Before that, she tried college but..." Rachael shook her head, thinking of the inevitable phone call that always ended and started every new phase of her sister's life.
"Hey, Rach, so, everything is cool. Nothing to worry about. But, well, [insert terrible thing here]."
Maybe she drove her boss's car into the lake or she and the dean of admissions didn't see eye to eye on expressionist art in the middle of the student union . Whatever the case, the Ford sisters were, both, walking disasters.
But for Eliza, that was in the best possible way.
"But what?" Garret prompted her as they stopped in front of the tiny flower shop in town.
Rachael tilted her mouth to the side, trying to figure out how best to describe her sister. "She's the best person you'll ever meet."
"I can't wait."
* * *
The door chimed behind them, but the two people behind the counter didn't look up. Instead, they seemed entrenched in focusing on each other and mumbling in angry, hushed voices.
As Garret approached, he thought he heard the younger of the two women say something like, "if you would just give it a chance, I'm telling you, Mr. Arnaldo would love to—"
The elderly woman's gaze finally found them and she smiled, apparently ignoring the girl who was still intent on talking. "Welcome to Bloom's. How can I help you?"
Rachael stepped forward, and then sat on one of the little stools in front of the wooden sales counter. "I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I need flowers for my wedding next month."