The Single Dad's Second Chance. Brenda Harlen

she agreed.

      Her enthusiasm waned quickly as she watched Andrew knock down pins with seemingly little effort. But she got a little bit better as the game progressed, although she continued to throw occasional gutter balls. It was near the end of the second game, right after he’d thrown back-to-back strikes, that she eyed him suspiciously.

      “Why don’t you use any ball except that green one?”

      “Because it’s the right weight for me.”

      “Can I try it?”

      His brows lifted. “You want to play with my ball?”

      Her cheeks flushed. “I want to see if I can knock down more pins with the green ball,” she said carefully.

      “It’s heavier than the one you’ve been using,” he warned.

      “You don’t think I can handle your ball?” she said, tossing his innuendo back at him.

      He handed it to her. “You’re welcome to try.”

      She did—and though she didn’t move the ball with much speed, she did manage to knock down six pins. And then she went back to the pink ball.

      Andrew didn’t comment on her choice. Although he enjoyed the flirtatious banter, he wasn’t sure that either of them was ready to follow where a continuation of the conversation might lead.

      As the final score was noted, he caught Rachel stifling a yawn. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

      “Did I keep you out past your curfew?” he teased.

      She shook her head. “No curfew, but I do have to be at the shop for my flower delivery in the morning.”

      “What time?”

      “Seven.”

      He winced. “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m not,” she told him. “I had a good time tonight.”

      “Well, let’s turn in those snazzy shoes and get you home.”

      “You don’t have to take me home,” she protested. “I can call a cab.”

      “It’s almost midnight—I’m not sending you home in a cab.”

      “I don’t want you to go out of your way.” She slipped on her own footwear and picked up the bowling shoes to return them to Grover.

      “I won’t know if it’s out of my way if you won’t tell me where you live,” he said logically.

      “Two-twelve Parkside, just past Queen Street.”

      He nodded. “I know the area.”

      They chatted amicably on the drive back to her apartment. When he approached the building, she suggested that he could just drop her off in front. Instead, he parked in an empty spot designated for visitors and walked her to the door.

      He didn’t follow her into the building, because that might seem too pushy—and too much like a date. Instead, he waited until she’d unlocked the exterior door and said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

      “Thanks. For a few hours, I actually managed to forget that it was Valentine’s Day.” Then she impulsively touched her lips to his cheek.

      He stood on the step as she went inside and realized that, for the few hours that he’d been with Rachel, he’d forgotten a lot of things—including that holidays without his daughter usually left him feeling sad and lonely and alone. Because he’d felt none of those things with Rachel tonight.

      Now he needed to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

      * * *

      Morning came early, but Rachel didn’t mind. More than three years after Buds & Blooms had first opened, she still experienced a thrill every time she unlocked the doors, and she still felt like a kid in a candy shop when a delivery of flowers arrived. Today’s delivery would be a big one to replenish the stock sold the day before. She was cataloging and sorting various blooms and an assortment of greenery when Holly wandered in at eight—a full two hours before she was scheduled.

      Her friend immediately started to prioritize the day’s orders then began to gather the necessary containers and flowers.

      Rachel let her get organized before she said, “I have to admit that your early arrival today has me wondering about your date last night.”

      Holly cut a block of floral foam, stuffed it into a decorative watering can. “It was a disaster.”

      They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Rachel couldn’t take it anymore. “You have to give me more information than that,” she protested.

      “He made me dinner at his place, with candles and music and wine, and then he asked me to marry him.” Her friend cut the stems of a trio of candy-pink gerberas. “Usually I can read guys pretty well, but I did not see that one coming.”

      Rachel’s gaze shifted to Holly’s bare left hand. “You turned him down.”

      “I’m not ready to get married.” Holly pushed the stems into the floral foam, then added some pale pink carnations. “And even if I was, I’m not planning to marry someone like Shane.”

      “So why do you keep dating guys like Shane?”

      Her friend sighed. “Because I know I’m not in any danger of falling in love with guys like Shane.”

      “Too bad Shane didn’t know that.” And though she knew her friend had done the right thing by turning down his proposal, Rachel couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy.

      “But he should have,” Holly insisted. “I mean, who proposes marriage to a woman who has carefully avoided any use of the L-word?”

      “You’ve been together almost two years—obviously he thought it was implied.”

      “Except that he’s not in love with me, either. He just thought it was the next logical step in our relationship.”

      “This is why I don’t date,” Rachel told her. “Because a few dates eventually lead to a relationship and one party or another ends up with a broken heart.”

      “I should have come over to your place last night for the Criminal Minds marathon.”

      “Actually, I wasn’t home last night.”

      Her friend pushed the finished watering can arrangement aside. “Where were you?”

      “Bowling.”

      “By yourself?”

      “No.” She plucked the wilted blooms out of a container and tossed them into the garbage. “With Andrew Garrett.”

      Holly frowned. “Sexy White Roses Guy?”

      Rachel nodded.

      “The one with the wedding ring on his finger?” her friend pressed.

      “He’s widowed.”

      “Oh.” Holly considered for a minute. “How long?”

      “Three years.”

      “And he still wears the ring?”

      Rachel shrugged.

      Holly counted out eight white lilies. “I didn’t know you bowled.”

      “I don’t.”

      “So how did this come about?”

      “We were both at Valentino’s for eat-in takeout, and the next thing I knew, I was wearing ugly shoes.”

      “That’s probably why you don’t bowl,” Holly noted. “The shoes offend your impeccable sense of style.”

      “And yet, I had a good time.”