Miley pulled a long face.
“Maverick is too contradictory. He never makes any sense. What on earth does he want?”
As the memory of her encounter with “Maverick” at the bar replayed in her mind, a surge of repulsion coursed through her veins, intensifying her emotions.
With a contemplative gaze, Miley fixed her eyes on the assortment of roses within the truck.
“I’m guessing it’d take him a good three months’ worth of pay to afford these roses. Quite the sacrifice he’s making for you!”
Stella looked away indifferently and called Maverick.
But the call was abruptly disconnected.
Frowning, Stella was about to call him again when her attention was drawn to a black car parking behind the truck.
It was Matthew’s car.
Stella slipped her phone into her pocket and began to make her way towards the new arrival.
“Good morning, Mr. Clark.”
Matthew nodded in response, his gaze skimming over the truck in a manner that suggested a casual interest.
“It is a gift from Stella’s husband,” Miley chimed in.
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A fleeting flicker of satisfaction danced across Matthew’s eyes.
Fernando was really reliable.
Stella huffed, “This is troublesome. There’re so many roses, and I’ll have to take them home in batches. They’ll wilt before long.”
The radiant smile on Mathew’s face faltered, replaced by an unusual hint of unease that rarely graced his handsome features.
Amidst an internal stream of curses aimed at Neville’s ill-conceived suggestion, he cleared his throat and turned to Stella.
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“Can I help?”
“No, thanks.” Stella’s response was swift.
She pondered for a moment, took purposeful strides towards the truck and told the driver, “Please ensure these flowers find their way to…”
She told him the address.
Matthew’s eyes narrowed.
The address she mentioned was unfamiliar to him.