"Then let go." His hands were hard as rock, and just as rough. And his legs, she realized, as he strode away from the building, ate up ground in long, hurried bites and forced her into an undignified trot.
"Just a minute. Look at that."
He gestured toward the tree and shrub area while she struggled to get her breath back. "What about it?"
"It's messed up."
"It certainly isn't. I spent nearly an entire day on this area." And had the aching muscles to prove it. "It's cohesively arranged so if a customer is looking for an ornamental tree, he—or a member of the staff—
can find the one that suits. If the customer is looking for a spring-blooming shrub or—"
"They're all lined up. What did you use, a carpenter's level? People come in here now, how can they
get a picture of how different specimens might work together?"
"That's your job and the staff's. We're here to help and direct the customer to possibilities as well as
their more definite wants. If they're wandering around trying to find a damn hydrangea—"
"They might just spot a spirea or camellia they'd like to have, too."
He had a point, and she'd considered it. She wasn't an idiot. "Or they may leave empty-handed because they couldn't easily find what they'd come for in the first place. Attentive and well-trained staff should be able to direct and explore with the customer. Either way has its pros and cons, but I happen to like this way better. And it's my call.
"Now." She stepped back. "If you have the time, we need to—"
"I don't." He stalked off toward his truck.
"Just wait." She jogged after him. "We need to talk about the new purchase orders and invoicing system."
"Send me a frigging memo. Sounds like your speed."
"I don't want to send you a frigging memo, and what are you doing with those trees?"
'Taking them home." He pulled open the truck door, climbed in.
"What do you mean you're taking them home? I don't have any paperwork on these."
"Hey, me neither." After slamming the door, he rolled the window down a stingy inch. "Step back, Red. Wouldn't want to run over your toes."
"Look. You can't just take off with stock whenever you feel like it."
"Take it up with Roz. If she's still the boss. Otherwise, better call the cops." He gunned the engine, and when she stumbled back, zipped into reverse. And left her staring after him.
Cheeks pink with temper, Stella marched back toward the building. Serve him right, she thought, just serve him right if she did call the police. She snapped her head up, eyes hot, as Roz opened the door.
"Was that Logan's truck?"
"Does he work with clients?"
"Sure. Why?"
"You're lucky you haven't been sued. He storms in, nothing but complaints. Bitch, bitch, bitch," Stella muttered as she swung past Roz and inside. "He doesn't like this, doesn't like that, doesn't like any
damn thing as far as I can tell. Then he drives off with a truckload of trees and shrubs."
Roz rubbed her earlobe thoughtfully. "He does have his moods."
"Moods? I only saw one, and I didn't like it." She yanked off the kerchief, tossed it on the counter.
"Pissed you off, did he?"
"In spades. I'm trying to do what you hired me to do, Roz."
"I know. And so far I don't believe I've made any comments or complaints that could qualify as bitch, bitch, bitch."
Stella sent her a horrified look. "No! Of course not. I didn't mean—God."
"We're in what I'd call an adjustment period. Some don't adjust as smoothly as others. I like most of
your ideas, and others I'm willing to give a chance. Logan's used to doing things his own way, and
that's been fine with me. It works for us."
"He took stock. How can I maintain inventory if I don't know what he took, or what it's for? I need paperwork, Roz."
"I imagine he took the specimens he'd tagged for his personal use. If he took others, he'll let me know. Which is not the way you do things," she continued before Stella could speak. "I'll talk to him, Stella,
but you might have to do some adjusting yourself. You're not in Michigan anymore. I'm going to let
you get back to work here."
And she was going back to her plants. They generally gave her less trouble than people.
"Roz? I know I can be an awful pain in the ass, but I really do want to help you grow your business."
"I figured out both those things already."
Alone, Stella sulked for a minute. Then she got her bucket and climbed up the ladder again. The unscheduled meeting had thrown her off schedule.
* * *
"I don't like her." Logan sat in Roz's parlor with a beer in one hand and a boatload of resentment in the other. "She's bossy, rigid, smug, and shrill." At Roz's raised brows, he shrugged. "Okay, not shrill—so far—but I stand by the rest."
"I do like her. I like her energy and her enthusiasm. And I need someone to handle the details, Logan.
I've outgrown myself. I'm just asking that the two of you try to meet somewhere in the middle of things."