I bite my lip, a flutter of hope blooming in my chest that I quickly slap down. Even if Tristan’s genuinely here to make amends, it doesn’t mean I can let my guard down around him. And as for Otley and his flower selection, he most likely chooses lilies because they fit the vibe of his boardroom, or something. He definitely doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.Even if he was the one to sprinkle rose petals all over my first ever nest…
“Are you here to take Leo from me, Tristan?”
He sucks in a sharp breath at the accusation in my voice. “No.Hellno.” He pulls back, hurt pinching his pretty features. “I told you. I can see the kind of life you’ve made here, and it’s perfect. We’re not here to ruin that.” He studies my face, his shoulders slumping at the mistrust lurking in my eyes. “But I understand why you’d feel that way.”
It’s not what I’m expecting. “You do?”
“Of course. We’re strangers, despite the history you have with the guys. And in typical Otley fashion, we’ve bulldozed our way into your lives like we’re here to take over and shake things up.”
I think of the steely-eyed alpha who promised me double if I’d come into his house and arrange his flowers for him.Arrogant jerk. “He does give off a pushy vibe.”
Tristan smirks at my sour expression. “That’s because most of the time he’s in business mode. The world he operates in is cut-throat, and when he puts on his suit, it’s like he’s wrapped himself in titanium armor. Everything bounces off him, especiallyfeelings.”
He draws the word out, wrinkling his nose until I give a reluctant chuckle. But I mull over his observation, deciding it’s not so different to Logan when he puts on his uniform. He once told me it’s easier to make hard decisions when he’s wearing it, because it symbolizes duty over personal choice. It’s something Ialways admired about him, while also resenting the hell out of it for taking him so far away from me.
But I push thoughts of Logan aside as I study Tristan’s face. He seems genuine. But I still don’t know if Otley is trying to manipulate me, like he did with the flower delivery, or if his agenda is more personal, like getting to know my son.
“He bought Willow Manor,” I say in a cool voice. “And then he paid a lot of money to get me to turn up on your doorstep. But you’re telling me this isn’t just business to him?”
Tristan is staring at the framed picture again, but now he lifts his head, his dark eyes gleaming as they latch onto mine. “No. And as much as I still want to photograph your farm, it isn’t just business for me, either.”
It’s hard to keep that hopeful flutter in my chest under control when he looks at me that way. I have to lick my lips to get past the tightness in my throat. “Then what is it?”
His smile is slow and seductive, his peppermint scent swirling around me as he says, “I’m hoping, with a little time and luck, this will be a pleasurable experience for everyone involved.”
CHAPTER FIVE – LILY
The next afternoon I’m in the process of showing a couple of college kids how to use the floral shears when I catch a hint of black cherries and fall leaves in the air. I spent a restless night thinking about everything Tristan said, and a frustrating ten minutes in the shower replaying his slow, wicked smile, but nothing takes my breath away like turning around and finding Otley James standing behind me.
My scent match.
Even here, surrounded by nature’s perfume factory, his tantalizing scent permeates my every pore. Decade-old memories of heated bodies and greedy mouths flash through my mind, and I have to wrap my arms around myself so I don’t stagger into his embrace.
Because he’s Tristan’s mate. Not mine.
If I have any doubt of that, I just need to remember them in their matching bathrobes with kiss-flushed skin and freshly-fucked hair.
“What are you doing here?”
The suspicion is so thick in my voice, the college kids look at me in surprise and sidle away with their shears. But Otley just shrugs, one thumb tucked in the pocket of his designer jeans. He’s wearing a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves carefully rolled back, and a pair of expensive boots that are so new they squeak as he rocks back on his heels. After Tristan went to such pains to tell me that Otley dresses for the occasion, I have to wonder what he’s here for.
Please, please, please don’t let it be to serve me with legal papers.
“Tristan said you had a staff shortage.” He looks around, and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking since he’s swapped out his wire-framed glasses for mirrored ones. “What can I do to help?”
I’m sure thatmyfeelings are written all over my face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. James.”
“Otley,” he corrects me, a hint of sourness in his black cherry scent. “There has to be something I can do. It’s clear you’re soon going to have more demand than you can supply.”
Of coursehe has to wave his business acumen in my tired and sweaty face. Most customers are too busy cooing over the pretty flowers to think of the process behind getting them into their buckets. Like I told Tristan, it’s hard, grueling work. But this operation is small potatoes to a guy who has two fortune 500 companies, and trades businesses like they’re playing cards.
Calling his bluff, I lift my chin and try to ignore my flushed reflection in his shades. “What's your hourly rate, then?”
“For you?” He tilts his head, and I can feel his gaze taking me in, even though I still can’t see his damned eyes. “How about I offer the family and friends rate?”
Is hetryingto get a bucket to the side of his head?
“Well, I guess that’s better than suggesting a mate’s rate.” The snarky comment has barely left my lips before I’m kickingmyself for making it. I’m supposed to be convincing Otley that this is all business, not waving my bruised heart around like a red flag.
