I watch one land on her cheek and melt. Watch her smile—a real one, not the polished professional version she wears like armor. For just a second, she looks young. Happy. Like she’s forgotten about the venue contracts and the bachelor lineup and everything else weighing on her.
She’s beautiful like this. She’s always beautiful, but right now, with snow in her hair and wonder on her face, she takes my breath away.
I could watch her like this forever. Standing in the middle of Main Street, face tilted up to the sky, catching snowflakes like a kid.
“We should keep moving,” I say. “Before it picks up.”
She nods, but she’s still smiling as we walk the rest of the way. And when her shoulder brushes mine, she doesn’t pull away.
When we reach her building, she stops at the door and turns to face me.
The January wind picks up, blowing a strand of hair across her face. She reaches up to push it back, but I’m already there—tucking it behind her ear before I can think better of it.
My fingers brush her cheek. Just barely. Just for a second.
She goes still. Her breath catches.
I drop my hand, shove it in my pocket. My heart is pounding.
What the hell was that, Smith?
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For lunch. And for the vases. They really are beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.”
She hesitates, like she wants to say something else. But then she just nods.
“I’ll see you at the auction.”
“See you then.”
Then she’s gone, disappearing through the door, and I’m left standing on the sidewalk with the cold wind biting at my face and her scent fading from my jacket.
The driveback to my workshop is quiet.
I keep the radio off, let the silence wrap around me. My head is full of her—her scent, her smile in the snow, the way she looked at me when I saidbecause it’s you.
The house is dark when I pull up. Empty, like always.
But for the first time in a long time, I don’t mind the quiet so much. I’m too busy replaying every moment. The way she softened when she ate. The way her shoulder brushed mine and she didn’t pull away. The way her breath caught when I touched her cheek.
Her scent went sweet and warm today. Because of me. Because of something I said.
That meant something. Right?
I head inside, flick on the lights.
Maybe by then I’ll figure out what to do with this feeling in my chest. This hope I can’t quite shake.
Or maybe I’ll just keep making things and hoping she notices.
It’s worked so far.
Chapter 7
Tessa
My phone buzzes for the fourteenth time since I got in the car.
