There’s a photo taped to the mirror. Me at seventeen, arm around my baby sister Cassie. She had pigtails and no front teeth. I was shipping out to boot camp the next day.
Cassie’s got her own life now. Found her peace in our hometown, Jackson Ridge. Married Reaper. Had a baby.
She told me to find something of my own. Said even haunted men deserve light.
I told her I wasn’t built for softness.
Then a woman with flower petals in her hair leaned against me like I was her safe place.
And I stayed still.
Because maybe I wanted to be. Just once.
Chapter 3
Nya
"Youhadamanand you didn’t tell me? The biker kissing you at the festival?"
Murphy’s gravelly voice rumbles beside me as he flips pancakes on the griddle, just steps from my open shop door.
The scent of bacon and onions drifts through the alley, mixing with the floral sweetness fromWild Petals.
"Ssshhh. Keep your voice down," I hiss. "It was nothing."
Nothing but a moment I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
He’s all rugged danger. Tall. Built like a soldier. Jaw sharp enough to slice through steel, silver streaking through dark hair. The kind of man women stare at twice. The kind of man who belongs on the cover of a dark romance novel or at the center of a bar fight.
And me? I’m soft where other girls are sleek. Curvy in a way that’s never felt glamorous, just hard to dress. I wear aprons, not eyeliner. My hair’s always in a messy bun, and my idea of a wild night is making stuffed toys while binge-watching baking shows.
I don’t turn heads. I arrange flowers for a living and hide behind them when I can.
So no. Whatever happened between us wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
Murphy’s white brows waggle. He’s in his sixties, with gnarled hands, a crooked nose from too many bar fights, and a heart bigger than his truck.
He’s been like a father to me ever since he caught me crying behind the dumpster at sixteen, the day Jessica shattered my grandmother’s teapot.
"Looked like something to me. I know him. Ghost’s a good man, for a savage. Keeps to himself. Takes care of business. And he’s got a sweet tooth. Buys my cinnamon rolls three times a week."
I cross to his side and help him set cupcakes in the display case, ignoring the flip in my belly.
"It was just a kiss," I mumble. "He was being polite. Didn’t want to embarrass me in front of everyone."
"Polite?" Murphy cackles. "He about swallowed your face when he kissed you."
My cheeks heat.
"He also threatened Jess," Murphy adds, voice turning gruff. "Never seen anyone do that. You be careful, girl. Your sister might pour sugar on for your parents, but she’s acid underneath. You humiliated her. She’ll come for you twice as hard now."
I know.
Jessica stormed into my apartment last night, mascara streaked and rage pulsing in every word.
"He’s not going to stay," she snapped. "He’ll see how dull you are and leave. Like they all do. Then you’ll come crying to me again, begging me to fix your life."
"I never begged you to fix my life. You’re delusional," I’d said, voice shaking but steady. "And I’m not crying now. You can leave."
