Igniting Andrew – Book 11

Tarnished Saints Series – Book 11




Andrew Taylor is a firefighter and has delivered the baby of the new florist, Christina Goldstone. But will he and this widowed woman end up having more in common and become intimate in a whole other way?















Excerpt from Igniting Andrew:

Later that day Christina found herself busier than ever. Her mother had gone to help out at the bar, and Christina was trying to run the shop, get the flower arrangements ready for delivery tomorrow, and figure out what her display on the roof was going to be.

The phone rang, and she walked into the other room drying her hands. Andy was in the bouncy seat in the back room, and she didn’t want to leave him alone for long.

“Christina’s Flowers,” she said into the phone, using the new name she decided she’d call the shop. There was still no sign out front, but she’d have one soon. “How can I help you?”

“Hi. I’d like to order a dozen roses, please,” came a male voice from the other end.

“Sure,” she said, putting the receiver under her ear and grabbing a pen and paper. She had her computer right on the counter, but all the information for the new shop hadn’t been entered yet, and rather than to waste time to look for the right buttons, she just wrote things down for now.

“Did you want red, white, yellow, blush, or a mixture of each?” she asked.

The baby started fussing in the other room, and she looked over, wishing this phone were cordless. She’d have to take this order fast.

“What do you think would be the best?” he asked.

“Well, what is it you’re trying to say with the flowers?” She looked over her shoulder as Andy started to cry. “If you love her, then get red. If it’s just a friendship, white, and if you are apologizing for something, get yellow.”

The baby started to wail, and she could barely hear her customer now.

“So what are the blush-colored ones for?”

This man was irritating her with his stupid questions, and she didn’t have time for it.

“Blush means she’s good in bed,” she spat. “Now what color did you want?”

“Is that a baby crying, I hear?”

“Yes. Now please, what color?”

“Oh – I don’t know. Maybe you should decide.”

“I’ll give you a mixture and that way you can say it all and won’t have to mull over the decision. Now, can I have your name please? And I’ll need your billing address as well. A credit card is good. Do you want to pick them up or have them delivered?”

“So you deliver?”

“I’ve just started doing that, but honestly, it’s a little easier if you pick them up yourself.”

“Okay, I’ll pick them up in a couple of hours.”

She glanced at the clock. It was already three, and she closed by five on Sundays.

“Get here before five since that’s when the shop closes.”

Andy wailed again from the other room, and she needed to go to him.

“Just give me your name and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Andrew,” he said, and her heart jumped to her throat.

“What?” she asked, hoping she’d heard him wrong.

“Christina, this is Andrew Taylor.”

All she could think about was that Andrew was ordering flowers for Pat, and he had the nerve to ask her to put the bouquet together for him. How could he?

“Look, I’ve got to go tend to the baby. Goodbye, Andrew.” She hung up with her body shaking. She was no longer sure if she should make the bouquet or not. Then again, she had to do it. She was a florist, and he was a customer. Even if she hated the idea, she had a business to run.

Barely remembering anything the rest of the day, she put together Andrew’s roses, hoping the girl would stab herself on the thorns since she didn’t remove them. She wanted to spray them with some foul-smelling perfume or sabotage them somehow, but her integrity wouldn’t let her do it.

She looked at the clock. It was five minutes until closing time.

“Good,” she said aloud, putting the flowers in the cooler and packing up Andy and the baby bag. “Be late, be late,” she said, hurrying to close up. If he was even a minute late and she could get out of there in time, then his girlfriend wouldn’t get the roses tonight. “Oh, this would be so much easier if I had a car,” she mumbled, knowing she would have to haul the baby and everything across the town square to the bar and use her mother’s car to get home.

She just about thought she’d pulled it off, and was turning out the lights when to her dismay, the door opened, and Andrew walked in.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“I told you, I close at five.”

“And I still have two minutes.”


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