At five thirty, he nodded to Miles, his second shift supervisor and called good-byes to the remaining customers before slinging his black leather jacket on and pushing out the door into the February cold.
He could still see the lights on inThree Blossom, illuminating the sidewalk to his left, so he made the short walk over to their windows and peered inside. The door was locked, their sign flipped toclosed,but through the doorway in the back he could see Val hunched over her laptop. She reached out and took a drink of likely stone-cold coffee out of a disposable cup before she scrubbed her other hand over her face wearily.
He jogged back toward the coffee shop, pulling the door open and striding inside. Theo sat at one of the black leather sofas and tilted his head slightly at the sight of him back already, but didn’t say anything. Beau rounded the counter and poured a fresh cup of coffee—decaf, this time—and added a dash of French vanilla, then topped it with whipped cream before lidding it. He waved another quick farewell and pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket.
He made it back to the glass door of the flower shop when she answered.
“Are you bailing on me already, Collins?” she drawled, and he watched her glance at the clock.
“Come open the door,” he rumbled, his voice thick. When her eyes snapped toward the door and saw him standing there on the other side of it, he raised the coffee cup in his right hand. “Come on. That coffee you’re sipping on has to be stone cold. I have a fresh one for you. Not that you need any more fucking caffeine today.”
He watched her roll her eyes, but she stood from the little stool she was perched on and came toward the door. She hung up the call and he slid his phone back in his pocket as shereached the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to let him inside.
“You’re my hero, on more than one account, today,” she teased lightly, closing her hands around the disposable cup, her fingers grazing his. “Thank you, Beau.”
He notched his head toward the back room. “Is there anything else you need to do tonight? Let your mind rest a little. Go on upstairs and take a hot shower, unwind from the day. I’m still picking you up at seven.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You make it sound like you’re traveling halfway across the city instead of across the hallway,” she teased again, lifting the coffee to her lips. “Although a hot shower does sound heavenly right now. Two am came early this morning.”
He plucked the coffee out of her hands, setting it aside, and then turned her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Go get your stuff. I’ll walk you up.”
“Such a gentleman,” she muttered, but smiled over her shoulder at him. He listened from the front as she gathered her things, closed her laptop, and then joined him back in the main lobby several minutes later.
She was sliding her arms into her coat, pulling her short, dark hair out of the collar when she looked up at him, her eyes suddenly sad. Without hesitating, he held his arms open, and she stepped forward. Sliding her arms beneath the folds of his leather jacket, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He felt her shoulders and back expand with the deep breath she dragged in. His hands strummed through her shoulder length hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He didn’t loosen his hold until he felt her sigh, some of the tension leaving her body.
“Better?” he asked as she stepped back. She had told him once, after her dad had passed, that hugs were most beneficial if held for longer than sixty seconds. Now, whenever she hugged him,he made sure to not let go until she was ready, no matter how long it lasted. She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go, Man Hater.”
She laughed, shaking her head as they exited the shop after turning off all the lights. She locked the door behind them, and they shuffled back down the sidewalk, pastBeau’s, to a solid wood door hidden in an alcove in the brick siding.
He unlocked it quickly and then held the door open, letting her in before him. They climbed the steep, creaky staircase that took them aboveBeau’sbelow. They split at the top of the stairs, her going right, himself to the left to identical heavy wooden doors. He glanced at his watch. “Do you need extra time since you were late getting out of work?” he asked.
“No, I can be ready in an hour,” she said, her hand on the doorknob of her apartment. “You really don’t have to take me out tonight, Beau.”
He raised his brows in annoyance, and she rolled her eyes again. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he said gruffly, before she disappeared into her apartment.
He showered quickly, then dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans and a black button-down shirt that he left untucked. He left the first several buttons at his throat unbuttoned, then rolled the sleeves up his forearms. The cleanest pair of black boots he owned came next, then his leather jacket again.
The dozen blush pink, peach, and yellow roses wrapped in greenery, and a small box of chocolate covered strawberries had been delivered upstairs in secret by Willow, and he picked them up as he headed out his door. He’d called in a favor to his buddy Grant Price, who owned one of the city’s top-tier restaurants that overlooked the bay. He’d been able to snag a last-minute table in exchange for free coffee for the next year. Grant was also unapologetically curious about this date.
At seven o’clock he knocked on her door and he heard her call through it “Just a second!” then the door swung open, and he forgot how to breathe.
Well fuck me, he thought absently as his eyes traveled over her. The dress was simple, but dramatic. Black. A corset style bodice that cinched her waist and pushed her small breasts up. Thick straps that were tied into sweet bows at the top of each shoulder, the long ribbons hanging down her arms, fluttering with each move she made. The skirt was knee length and made entirely of layers upon layers of some kind of soft tulle like fabric, floating around her knees.
She turned away from him, and he became partially aware that she was speaking to him, but his brain was officially malfunctioning and couldn’t process a single syllable. She had twisted her short hair up into some kind of sleek knot at the back of her head, a large black bow secured above the knot. Loose tendrils framed her face, andChrist… he nearly groaned out loud when his eyes roved over her face. Her lips had been painted a deep red. The rest of her makeup was subtle, but her eyelashes were thick and long as they framed her hazel eyes.
She picked up a pair of red stiletto heels from the entryway table and turned back toward him. She bent forward slightly, one hand bracing herself on the edge of the table as she slid the heel on the first foot, then repeated it with the other. The way she was bent forward… he was afforded a generous view of her cleavage. Something he’d never noticed before now.
Or at least, hadn’tlethimself notice, before now.
She straightened, giving him a nervous smile, wrinkling her nose as she did a slow twirl. “Well? What do you think? Knock his socks off material?”
“Yeah,” he answered gruffly, then cleared his throat. “Definitely knock his socks off.”
He just wasn’t sure if he was talking about Ryan-The-Idiot… or himself.
Because she wasstunning. And he was in so much fucking trouble.
CHAPTER 5
