Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)

by Sarah Adams

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow. —Audrey Hepburn

I am convinced dating was created by an evil villain to torture humanity. Dramatic? Not in the least. For introverts like me with social anxiety, the process of dating is equivalent to waxing your bikini line. Menstrual cramps on day two of your cycle. An emergency dental procedure you weren’t expecting—and guess what: they’re fresh out of novocaine.

The dessert is literally the only reason I’m still sitting here on this painfully awkward date.

I am the quiet one in my family. The one with her nose always in a book because she prefers worlds where she doesn’t have to interact with other humans. It’s so much easier to read about relationships than to foster them. Less dangerous too. I can’t offend anyone written into a book. I can’t say the wrong thing. And book characters don’t make judgments about me.

Unfortunately, I arrive back at the table just in time to hear John finishing up a phone call that he doesn’t intend for me to hear. “Yeah, I’m telling you she’s so unbelievably boring. And just sort of awkward and weird. Like zero personality.” He listens to the person on the other end of the line. “I mean, yeah, I guess she’s prettyish, but I don’t even want to try to hook up with her tonight because she’s so dull. So just call me in five minutes with an emergency. Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“Annie?” comes a familiar male voice from above me. My heart hiccups, and I lift my head to look right into the mystical eyes of Will Griffin. I’ve never heard him say my name before—it was magical. I didn’t even plan to say hi to him because I wasn’t sure he would remember me.

“Will Griffin. It’s you. Hi.” He smiles. “Annie Walker. Hi back.”

“You okay?” Will asks with pinched brows. I smile. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Because that jackass seemingly just made up an excuse to bail?” “Oh. Yeah. He definitely did.” Will eyes me closely for signs of distress. “And that doesn’t bother you?” I think about it and then answer honestly. “A little, but not much. We were both having a terrible time. I wouldn’t want him to stick around if he was miserable.” I shrug. “Hopefully he’ll recover his night now.”

“I think maybe you’re too nice?” He says it like a question.

Do you want to join me and Gretchen for dinner?” That makes me laugh audibly. “No—thank you, but not in a million years. That would be so embarrassing,” I say,

“Don’t worry about me. Seriously. I’ll have a spectacular night. There’s a book I’ve really been wanting to finish.” It’s a half-truth. I will most definitely cry on my way home from the sting of John’s words, but then I do have a steamy romance to finish where a pirate has just stolen a lady, and she’s about to turn his world upside down with witty remarks and a bewitching personality.

“A book is going to be fun?” I chuckle as we continue to walk. “Are you one of those nonreaders? The movie is never better, I assure you.” “I wouldn’t say I’m a nonreader. Reading just hasn’t been on my radar before.” “But now it is?” I ask hopefully, glancing at him. “Maybe.” He smirks.

“What book are you going to read tonight?”

I squint an eye and smile. “Well, I’d tell you—but then I’d have to kill you.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you really do have fun reading your book.” Will opens my truck door and I feel momentarily upset—only because this five minutes with him has already been better than any date I’ve ever been on,

Even worse, I’ll hope my next date has bluish-gray eyes like Will’s—but not just any blue-gray but grayish blue with a thick dangerous rim of black around them. I’m not even sure what that means, I just know I feel it down to my toes that that rim is dangerous.

I smile. “And I hope you have fun with Gretchen in all your amorous adventures.” Oh gosh. I grimace when Will’s eyes widen.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. Residual first date awkwardness. I’m going to go before I tell you about the reproduction of flowers.” Will doesn’t cringe or look away. He smiles fully and it slips right into the fleshy part of my heart, inflating it like an emergency flotation device. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around town, Annie.” “I guess you will.” Then I hop up into my truck. But I hop a little too high and slam my head on the doorframe.

“How’s your job going these days, Annie?” My date blinks back at me with wide eyes, and I immediately realize my mistake. “Gretchen! Shit. Sorry. That was—”

What a douchebag move to call a date by the name of a different woman. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t get Annie Walker out of my head for some reason.

It doesn’t matter. Because the fact is, when I started keeping people at arm’s length was when I started really finding happiness—and I’ve never met anyone who’s made me want to challenge that decision. No one. Not Gretchen, not the woman I met in Italy last year, not Jada from Texas, not Allie from Indiana, and not even… My thoughts snag on the one name I can’t bring myself to lump in with the others for some concerning reason: Annie Walker.

“Back to Will, do you think he likes slightly bossy women with blonde hair?” Emily asks, obviously kidding but still kicking up an urge inside me to jump to my feet and yell No! You can’t have him!

Amelia—bless her—then looks at me. “You know, I think he’d do better with someone like Annie.” Madison barks a laugh at this. Emily chuckles too. “Anna-banana and Will Griffin? No. Absolutely not,” says Maddie, chuckling the whole time. I smile softly and try very hard not to show that my stomach is twisting up in a tight knot.

Amelia smiles. “I’m still putting all the pieces together in my head right now, but if I had a way to help you get better at dating, would you want to do it?” “Sure,” I say easily, because honestly, I trust Amelia with my life. I’d do anything she asked of me. In some ways, I feel closer to her than I do my sisters. I don’t know how it happened, but when Amelia came into my life, our bond felt like one that had been forming since childhood. “All I want is to marry someone as perfect for me as Noah is for you and my dad was for my mom. If you can help me make that happen, I’ll do anything you say.” Amelia gives me a wide (slightly devious?) smile. “Perfect. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“Will,” he says coming into the room and extending his hand. I clasp it, and we give each other a firm shake. “It’s good to have you back.” I genuinely like Noah. Amelia dated a few guys before him whose teeth I wanted to knock down their throats. But this guy is legit. He’s loyal and puts Amelia first. I trust him and he seems to trust me. “It’s good to be working for Amelia again.”

Either way, I plan on asking to be transferred to a different client after the month is up. Not because I don’t like working for Amelia—I always have—but I won’t stay put in this town for a minute longer than necessary. Boredom does not suit me. “So that sounds good to you?” she asks. I nod. “Sounds great. I’m here for anything you need. Seriously, yard work? Gutters cleaned? I’m your guy. You know I get stir-crazy when I have nothing to do.” Amelia laughs. “I do know. Which is why I’m happy to hear you say you’d be willing to help out with other things in your downtime.” I sit forward, eager to know what she has in mind. “Yes, anything. Name it.” If I’m not mistaken, her smile turns a little mischievous.

“Great. For starters, do you mind taking a letter into town for me?” “Sure,” I say, dragging out the word to let her know I’m onto her. “Like to the post office?” “Nope.” She grins wider. “To the flower shop, actually.” And because there’s only one flower shop in town, that means I’ll be seeing Annie Walker today. Shit.

Amelia calls out, “Hey, Will!” “Yeah?” “Don’t say no, okay?” “To what?” “To what’s in that envelope.” The look on her face is all plea and genuine something. “Please don’t say no.”

“Our Annie is a sweetie, you know?” He’s saying it in a cheery tone, but there’s an edge to it that I don’t miss. Unspoken words of warning: our Annie is a sweetie, so don’t mess with her, or I’ll cut off your balls with the chain saw we have on sale today for 50 percent off.

“I know,” I say honestly,

Phil nods. “I don’t want to hear of anyone—and I do mean anyone—hurting our girl. Understand?”

I respect Phil and his tube-sock-wearing self more, even if I am a little irritated at his insinuation that I would purposely hurt her. Or any woman. “I understand, sir.”

I look up, gasp, and throw my book over my shoulder, somewhere into the abyss of my storage room. There is a man standing in my shop with a roguish smile and a sleeve of tattoos. “Hi,” says Will Griffin looking far too amused. “Am I interrupting something?” “No.” I answer too quickly. He smiles curiously. “But you did just throw a book behind you, right?”

“But if I did—hypothetically speaking—it would be because I don’t want you to know what book I’m reading. So please don’t ask any more questions.” His smile widens as he advances into the shop to stand right in front of my worktable. “I see. The illusive if-I-tell-you-I’ll-have-to-kill-you book. But you should know, it’s torture in and of itself not knowing what book it is.”

“Amelia just asked me to bring it to you and for you to open it while I’m here.”

I force myself to crack open the seal of the envelope and read Amelia’s handwriting. After quickly scanning her words, I promptly fold the letter and consider putting it in my mouth and swallowing so it’s never seen again. “What’s it say?” Will asks,

“Nothing.” My voice is suspiciously prim. I walk to the shop door and fling it open. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got lots of things to do today. Don’t let me keep you. Thanks for bringing this by!” “I don’t think so.” He takes hold of its handle and slowly closes the door. He turns his eyes to me. “What was in that letter?” I give him a nonchalant smile. “Oh, you know, nothing important. Girl stuff.”

“I know that letter had something to do with me.” I talk out of the side of my mouth like a ventriloquist. “Someone’s a bit of a narcissist.” “Annie. Show me the letter.” Will’s tone is calculatingly easy and his smile is dripping with seduction.

I don’t know what comes over me, but before I can stop myself, the words, “You can’t make me,” fly out of my mouth. His smile melts into something roguish and challenging. “Wanna bet?” He steps closer,

“But it’s about me, right?” “No.” I hold my chin higher. He grins. “You’re lying.” “And how would you know that?” “Because I’ve watched you. I know your tell.”

“It’s my job to watch and listen to everyone Amelia interacts with. And that includes you. Which is how I know that when you’re not telling the whole truth, you always lift your chin slightly. Like you have to muster up the courage to tell a lie. It’s cute.”

“We both know I’m going to get that letter, Annie, so how about you hand it over and save us both some time.” His voice is so charming and playful that I could melt.

“You’ll have to try to steal it from me if you want it. Because there’s no way I’m giving you this letter.” He chuckles soft and low—like I’m adorable for even considering going against him. “I’m not trying to steal anything. I am succeeding in stealing it. Your first mistake was ever letting me get this close.” “Oh? Then how is the letter still in my hand?” “It’s not. You dropped it a minute ago.”

“And that’s how you lie without a tell, Annie Walker,” he says with a gleeful smile. “Now let’s see what Amelia wrote about me in here, shall we?”

He clears his throat dramatically. “Dear Annie! Remember when I said I had a solution to your dating problems?”

“Well, I’ve brought him right to your door. I’m convinced Will is exactly who you need too—” “William!” I yell loudly, my own voice scraping against my nerves as I continue to hop and tug and circle him for that letter. “You can’t read this! It’s embarrassing.”

“What makes you think my name is William?” he says quietly, like we’re lying together in bed rather than duking it out in a flower shop. “Fine. Please give me the letter, Wilson,” I whisper in return. He grins. “Definitely not after realizing I’m the solution to your dating problems. I’m so intrigued I could never give it back now.”

“Wilbert, please give it to me right now or I’ll be forced to…say rude things to you.” “So polite to warn me,” he says in an impressed tone of voice. Like he’s seconds away from laughing. “I think I’d like to hear the rude things.”

I experience momentary triumph where I’m sure I’m the world’s newest Strong Woman until Will wraps his other arm around me and holds me in a backward hug. His hands cover mine, so now we’re both holding the paper. I feel his breath against my ear. “What’s your rude comment, Annie?” A shiver ripples through me. I’ve never felt so alive. “It’s going to be awful,” I taunt—struggling

“Super mean.” “I’m braced. Let me have it.” I swallow and turn my chin so I’m looking at his eyes—so close I could use a ruler and measure that black rim around his blue-gray irises with precision. “You’re acting…like a…stingy…butt munch!” He gasps. “Butt munch? You’ve cut right through my heart. I don’t even know what that is but I’m devastated.” I’m laughing so hard now that I can barely stay upright.