She scheduled herself to come in tomorrow, get her station set up, and be ready to start taking customers Wednesday.
She spent another couple of hours with Lulu visiting and getting to know her better. From there, she headed into Colbyville to stock up on supplies. Lulu told her to expect plenty of customers. Fridays and Saturdays were always busy, plus there would be the curious—those who came in just to see what she could do. It would be up to Tameka to turn the inquisitive into regulars.
It was a little after three when she finally made it home.
With keys in hand, arms loaded down with packages, her mind was focused on leftover Chinese when she almost tripped over something on the porch. Shifting the packages to one side, she saw a box at the top of the stairs, the kind flowers came in.
Tameka stepped carefully over the box, opened the door, and set down her things. Then she went back outside to retrieve the package. It was flowers, according to the Flora’s Flowers logo on the box. Chad sent her flowers? How sweet.
She took the box into the kitchen and hunted for a vase.
Once she found it, she set it on the counter and turned to the box.
The white box was tied with a lovely yellow bow. She worked the bow off and set it to the side. She’d put it around the vase once she had the flowers arranged inside. She lifted the top off and took an involuntary step back in shock.
Instead of the beautiful, long-stemmed roses she was expecting, the box was filled with ugly, dead-looking roses of an indeterminate color. “Is this supposed to be a joke?” If so, she wasn’t amused. She took a knife out of the drawer and used it to poke the flowers, looking for a note. There was none.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Chad’s number, but hung up before he answered. He couldn’t do anything about this. There was no note, no indication of whom it was from or even whom it was for. For all she knew, it could have been delivered to the wrong house.
She laid the phone on the counter and jumped when it rang.
Caller’s ID read Chad cell. “Hello?”
“Why did you hang up? Your voice sounds shaky. What’s wrong?”
“Somebody left me a present. I thought it was you until I opened the box.”
“What was in it?”
“Just somebody’s sick idea of a joke. A bunch of dead flowers.”
“Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.”
“It’s no big deal. Chad?” He’d already hung up.
Chad checked the traffic, then made a u-turn in the middle of the road. He was on the other side of the county. If he pushed, he could be at Tameka’s house in fifteen minutes. He hit his lights and gunned the engine.
“Dispatch, this is Deputy Wilson. I need to take care of some personal business. I’ll be out of radio contact for the next half-hour.”
“Roger. Take your time. It’s slow. We have enough deputies to cover.”
“Thanks, Hannah. Out.”
That done, his focus switched back to Tameka. She assumed the flowers were some sort of prank, but he knew better. Maybe in the big city it would be, but here in Bradford County where everyone knew everyone else, it wasn’t. He pulled up in front of her home with the lights flashing and gravel flying.
Tameka stood in the doorway waiting. “It’s not that serious.” She gestured towards the lights that were still flashing.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He reached in, flipped off the lights and threw his hat on the seat. As he walked towards her, he hooked his shades on his front pocket. “Show me the box.”
“It’s in the kitchen. Chad, I don’t know why you rushed over here. I watch enough cop shows to know there’s nothing you can do. There’s no name, no card, and nothing to indicate that those were for me except that they were left on my front porch. I don’t even know anyone here other than you and Lulu. It must be a mistake.”
“Like I said, let me be the judge.” In his heart, he knew that she was right, but he had to see for himself. He walked into the kitchen and spotted the box on the counter still opened. Tameka followed and stopped in the doorway.
“You said the box was left on your porch? Where at, exactly?” He studied the box and its contents, not touching anything, just observing.
“I didn’t notice it until I tripped over it coming up the steps.”
He looked her over from head-to-toe. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I didn’t fall. Just stumbled a bit.”
Satisfied, he turned back to the box. “What did you touch?”
“The bow and the box top. I used the knife on the counter to see if there was a note.”
“Are you certain there wasn’t a note attached? Maybe on the box itself?”
“Not that I could see.”
Chad used the knife to move the flowers around. Nothing.
He really wanted to get the bastard that did this to his woman.
Disgusted, he tossed the knife aside. “Where do you keep your trash bags?”
“In the pantry. Why?’
“I’m taking these with me. I want to see if I can get any prints off of the box.” He located the bags and put the evidence inside, tied the bag shut and set it to the side. Then he did what he’d wanted to do since he got her call.
He reached out, slid his hand behind her neck, and pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
She sighed and leaned into him as he rubbed her back, trying to comfort her as well as himself. “I’m just pissed. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought they were from you.” Chad could have kicked himself. That’s what he should have done, sent her flowers. “I’ll find out who did this.” He cupped her face.
“Don’t bother. It’s not like you can charge them with anything.”
“Even so…”
“Even so, nothing. Run your little tests if it makes you happy. I doubt you find anything. Even if you do, no crime was committed.”
Chad kissed her to shut her up. He knew all of that, but didn’t want to hear it. This was his woman who’d been threatened. He might not be able to prove it, but his instincts were screaming.
Before the kiss could get out of hand, his radio squawked.
“Attention all units. We have a code 11-25x on State Road 30, mile marker 15.”
Chad reached up and pushed the button on his shoulder mike, holding Tameka close when she tried to pull away. “This is Unit 3. I’ll take the call. ETA five minutes.”
“Roger, Chad. I’ll let her know.”
“10-4.”
He lowered his mouth to Tameka’s again. “I’ve got to go.” Kiss. “Motorist needs assistance.” Kiss.
He grabbed the bag with one hand and walked her backwards towards the door, one eye watching where they were going while his mouth tangled with hers. He stopped when he had her backed against the front door, his body plastered to hers.
“I don’t want to go,” he whispered, his forehead against her own.
He could smell her arousal.
“You have to go.” Her arms held him tight in direct contrast to her words.
“I know.” He swooped in for another kiss. This one left them both gasping for air. “Call me if you get any more presents.”
“I will.” She pushed him away. “Go. Someone’s waiting.”