“Done.”
She nodded again, satisfied, and turned back to the table to make notes. I should have left then.
Deal sealed. Lines intact.
Instead, I stayed.
Watched her work some more.
Watched the way she bit her lip when she concentrated. The way she leaned back occasionally, assessing her progress with a critical eye. The way she didn’t rush, even knowing how slammed she was.
“You always this intense?” I asked.
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Only when I care.”
I shifted my weight, suddenly too aware of the small space, the quiet, and the fact that we were alone in a room filled with soft things that didn’t belong in my world.
“I should go,” I said, knowing it was the right call.
She nodded, but didn’t look relieved.
I stepped toward the door, then turned back to her. “Juliet.”
She turned. “Um, yes?”
I moved and stood close enough that the air between us hummed. I lifted a hand, stopping just short of her face to give her every chance to pull back.
She didn’t.
“I don’t know how to explain it, Juliet, but all I want to do right now is kiss you,” I confessed. There was no sense in being anything but straight to the point.
Her eyes searched my face. “Okay,” she breathed out.
That was all the permission I needed.
My mouth brushed hers once, twice. Testing, not taking. A soft question, barely there, like I was asking if she was still sure. Her breath hitched, warm against my lips, and her fingers curled into the front of my vest as if she’d decided for both of us.
The third time, I lingered.
Her lips were warm, softer than I expected, and when she tilted her head, just a fraction, something inside my chest gave way. I kissed her then, slow, unhurried, letting it deepen naturally instead of rushing it. She made a quiet sound, more felt than heard, and it sent a jolt straight through me.
I drew back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, our noses brushed. We were breathing the same air now, the space between us charged and fragile. Her eyes fluttered shut, and when she opened them again, they were darker, steadier.
So I kissed her again.
This time she met me fully, lips parting, trust written into every movement. My hand came up to her jaw, thumb brushing along her cheek. The kiss grew surer, warmer, less careful, but still slow, like neither of us wanted to be the first to break it.
When we finally pulled apart, it was only by inches. Her lips were pink, slightly swollen, and she was smiling as she felt it too.
Yeah, she definitely felt it too.
“I’ll see you later?” I asked.
She nodded and stepped back. “Um, yeah. I’ll be there. Here,” she stammered. “I will be here with the flowers. Later. Here.” Her cheeks flushed red, and I didn’t think it was possible, but she looked even more beautiful.
I left the shop with the scent of flowers clinging to my jacket and the certainty settling deep in my bones.
This was going to matter.
