I’m still locked onto the scent when Juliette turns and smiles in my direction. There’s a pang right in my gut as she does,because I can see that this smile is a new one. It’s genuine, like she is actually happy to see me. “Hey, Sawyer.”
“Hey,” I say back, still trying to remember how breathing works.
“Ready to shoot a video?”
“As ready as I can be.” Which is my truth.
She gestures toward the back counter. “I’ve got everything set up. Snake plant, fresh soil, clean pot. We can film back here.”
“Perfect,” I say, following her past the register. The bell over the door jingles as we pass, and I clock Charlie near the front—apron on, glasses perched low, humming softly while he tends to a tray of seedlings—and I wave.
The counter in the back is neat and ready, camera tripod already positioned. Juliette moves with easy confidence, sleeves rolled up, hands steady as she adjusts the angle.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. You really do have it all set up and ready.”
“I told you I like to be prepared. I’m organized, remember?”
“Noted.” Our eyes meet for a second.
“Okay,” she says, breaking the moment and bringing me back into the store. “Whenever you’re ready, Plant Daddy.”
She laughs, and it does something unsettling to my chest. Warm. Unexpected. Like it’s settling somewhere it plans to stay.
I’m just reaching for the plant when the bell over the door rings again. This time, I don’t miss it. The way Juliette’s shoulders draw in. The way her smile goes careful around the edges. It’s subtle, barely there, but it’s enough. Her protection, and I see it.
A woman steps inside, phone already in hand. “Sawyer Stockton?” she asks brightly. “Do you have a quick second?”
My instincts kick in fast and I step forward without thinking. “You’ll need to go through Dominion PR for anything official,” I say evenly. “Or speak to the owner of the store.”
Juliette’s hand lands on my shoulder. Gentle. Grounding and warm. And that delicious scent that lingers.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “They called earlier and asked.”
I glance at her. “They did?”
She nods once, calm and unflinching. “I don’t like being surprised, but if I get to have a choice in the matter, then my nervous system is inherently calmer. I told them if someone stopped by today, I’d allow a quick quote, but quick. No hanging out.”
The reporter smiles, relieved. “Just a few questions for a social roundup. Nothing big.”
I look back at Juliette. “You’re doing a video,andletting a reporter in?”
“I am.” She meets my gaze. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult here, I just need to protect what I have. Okay?”
Something settles in me at that. Not relief. Understanding.
“Okay,” I say, turning back once I’m satisfied Juliette is truly okay. “You’ve got one minute.”
The reporter asks about community outreach. About learning plant care. About what it’s been like spending time at a local shop. I keep my answers light, supportive, careful not to pull focus where it doesn’t belong.
“Leaf & Letter has a way of pulling people in, and that’s not an accident,” I say, easing us toward the end. “Juliette’s built something special and full of heart here.”
Juliette glances at me, surprised. Just for a second, and I pretend not to notice.
The reporter thanks us and heads out, the bell chiming softly behind her and allowing the quiet to rush back in.
Juliette exhales. “Thank you.”
I blink. “For what?”
