Armed with caffeine and pastry, I head to the florist where Christina greets me from behind the computer. Her expression’s neutral for all of half a second before it cracks into a smirk as I set a coffee and an éclair on the counter.
“A bribe?” she whispers.
“Insurance,” I whisper back.
I ease open the door to the back room.
Emma is sitting on the floor surrounded by buckets and stems, her messy bun hanging on by sheer determination. She looks up. For a moment her whole face brightens, soft and surprised, and something in my chest reacts far too enthusiastically.
I set the remaining pastries and coffee on the desk. “I was going to bring you breakfast,” I say. “Then I got called to a rescue. So this is more of an early lunch.”
“You didn’t have to,” she murmurs.
“Oh, I did. Mostly because I don’t have your number, which is frankly a crisis I couldn’t let stand. And because I wanted to see you.”
Her cheeks warm. She holds out her hand.
“Phone.”
I pass it over. She types quickly, and a vibration hums from the desk behind her.She definitely sent herself a message.When she hands my phone back, there’s a faint, satisfied tilt to her smile.
“Sorted.”
I tuck the phone into my pocket and offer her my hand again, palm up, asking without asking. She studies it for a second before sliding her fingers into mine. The contact is warm, tentative, a bit brave. I draw her gently to her feet. The movement brings her closer than expected and she steadies herself with a soft bump against my chest. Colour climbs her cheeks, but she stays exactly where she is.
“Belated good morning,” I murmur, brushing a thumb lightly across her cheek before kissing her.
It’s nothing like last night. Calm instead of frantic. Warm instead of breathless. A kiss that feels like finding your footing on uneven ground. She responds with a soft urgency that makes my cock pay attention. For a moment the whole day steadies itself around her.
The door swings open.
“Emma, do we have—” Christina stops dead, takes in the scene, and grins as though she’s just spotted a unicorn. “Sorry. Sunflowers. A customer wants ten.”
Emma jolts away from me like a startled cat, with a face so red it looks like she has a sunburn, and practically vaults into the walk-in fridge. Christina gives me a slow wink, utterly delighted with herself.
Emma returns clutching sunflowers, with her cheeks still pink and refusing to meet my eyes.
“Thank you. I’ll leave you two—” Christina doesn’t clarify what she thinks we will be doing but she giggles joyfully as she heads back to the front.
“Come here,” I gently guide Emma towards me, sliding an arm round her waist.
“When can I take you out again?” I ask.
“You don’t have to,” she whispers.
Her shoulders dip, the way they do whenever doubt sneaks up on her. It’s subtle, but it lands like a stone in my stomach. Someone in her past did a real number on her, and if I ever meet them, I will give them a piece of my mind.
“I want to take you out again,” I say gently. “If I could whisk you off right now, I would. But the rescue this morning’s pushed my whole day sideways.”
She gives a tiny nod, eyes dropping. “You could just… call me next week. Whenever you’re free. Or—”
“Emma.” I lean in and kiss her softly before she can finish that sentence. It’s a light kiss, but enough to pull her back from whatever bleak place she was heading.
When she looks up again, her eyes are a little wide.
“No chance I’m waiting a week,” I say. “How’s Friday night?”
She blinks, surprised. “Friday?”
