I hear his footsteps behind me as we make our way across the store.
Before I have a chance to show him the invoice, his credit card is in front of me. I run it through the register and hand it back to him. “Don’t forget it this time.”
He scoops up the card and shoves it in his pocket. “It looks like I’m all set.”
I watch as he gingerly cradles the bouquet in his hand. For such a large man, I can tell he has a tender touch.
I dip my head down when I think of his hands on my skin.
I can’t let my thoughts go there. He’s a customer. His girlfriend just dumped him.
“Thanks again, Athena.”
I glance up to find him looking at me. “It’s my pleasure.”
“Take care,” he says in a low tone. “If I ever need flowers, I know just where to come.”
I hope he needs flowers tomorrow, or the day after that.
As he exits the shop, I laugh off my eagerness to see him again.
This city is full of gorgeous men. I meet at least a few every week. I never think about them when they walk out of my store, but I know this time will be different.
Liam Wolf won’t be as easy to forget.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Athena
This isa daily habit I could get used to.
I smile at the man who walked into my store as I was about to lock the door for the day.
It was another busy one thanks to Al’s brilliant marketing schemes. I had to bring in extra help today in the form of one of my weekend assistants. She’s still in college but had a block of time free this afternoon. I put her to work, prepping the flowers that Leanna and I needed for the arrangements we had to get out before Al arrived to deliver them.
My great day just got better.
“Athena Millett.” A smile tugs on the corners of Liam’s mouth as he says my name. “I owe you.”
I take in the sight of him as he strolls closer to where I’m standing in the middle of the store.
His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his dark blue pants. The light blue button-down shirt he’s wearing is open at the collar and rolled at the sleeves. Today he’s wearing brown oxfords on his feet.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
He rakes me from head-to-toe.
I tucked the front of my short-sleeved white sweater into black and white checkered pants. My low-heeled black boots are my most comfortable footwear, so they almost always make the cut when I’m getting dressed every morning.
As usual, I tied my hair up sometime around mid-morning when the mad rush started.
Pursing my lips, I ask the obvious question. “Why do you owe me?”
By the time the last word has left my mouth, he’s in front of me. He smells as good as he looks. The scent of his cologne draws me a step closer to him.
“You made my mom cry.”
I lift my chin to make eye contact with him. “The flowers made her cry? In a good way?”
