Her brown eyes widen when she sees me. “Romeo?”
My fist tightens around the flowers. “Hi.”
“You weren’t kidding. One hour on the dot.”
Oh shit. I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other. Does it make me look too eager? Gia never told me to be late. She never told me to be early either, and she insisted that I bring flowers. I didn’t think to ask how these things work.
“I can go away and come back.”
Her eyes soften as she walks toward me. She smiles. “It’s okay. I just thought maybe I could go home and change first.”
No fucking way. “You look beautiful.”
Sara studies me for several beats, tilting her head. “You mean that, don’t you?”
I frown. “Of course I do.”
“Huh.” She looks at the flowers and gets that funny, soft look in her eyes again. “Are these for me?”
I hold them out for her to take. “Yes.” Maybe I should’ve got some tips from Gia about what to say. She knows Sara from school. She’s a woman. I bet she never loses the ability to speak on a first date.
Gently, Sara takes the flowers and holds them to her nose. “How did you know I loved daisies?”
“I didn’t. They reminded me of you.”
She hesitates. “That’s… really sweet, Romeo.”
My heart beams like someone stuck the sun inside my chest and poked holes in it to let the light out. I can smell her perfume, sweet and faintly floral, not like she doused herself in it before she left the salon, but like it’s unique to her.
“You put them through the ringer though.”
She gestures at the stems, and I notice for the first time that I somehow managed to mangle them in my fist.Fuck.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. I’ve always been too clumsy, too strong for my own good. Ham-fisted, my mom called it. Bull in a china shop.
I’m not good for delicate, pretty things.
I’m not good forher.
“Sorry,” I grunt. “I can replace them.”
God, this is already going badly. Maybe I should just cut my losses and run even though Gia will give me hell for it. I turn to go, but Sara’s gentle hand on my wrist stops me.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll trim the ends and get these into some water. They needed to be cut down anyway to stay fresh. You just helped the process along.” She gives me a small smile.
I watch her go into the shop. My heart slams against my chest. Every minute she’s gone is torture. What if she’s asking her coworkers to make an excuse for her? Did I scare her away? Is she terrified of someone who looks like me, someone big enough to crush her like a handful of leaves? Maybe she’s waiting for me to leave before she comes back out.
I promised Gia that I wouldn’t, but I fucked up.
An eternity later, when my head is reeling with theshould I go or should I staydebate, she comes back. She puts her handbag over her shoulder and grins. “Okay. Sorbet?”
I still have no idea what the fuck sorbet is, but I’m assuming ice cream places have it for people with a similar condition. “Follow me,” I say.
She takes a step and holds out her hand.
I wrap my fingers around hers, and when I do, electricity travels along my arm, down my spine, and settles in my loins. Fuck. Double fuck when I feel the bulge growing inside my pants. She’ll think I’m some kind of pervert. She’ll take one look and run for her life, and who could blame her?
I focus on her hand in mine, tiny, fragile as a bird, and every instinct in me forgets what’s going on inside my pants, and instead, wants to protect her with my life. This is the kind of feeling I understand. I can keep her safe. I can fight for her if I have to. I can destroy any fucker who tries to make her life anything less than perfect.
