His hand pauses. “What?”
I smile against his chest. “My next book. The hero. I want him to be a blacksmith.”
“You already wrote about a carpenter who’s secretly in love with a bookshop owner. People are going to notice a pattern.”
“Let them.” I smile. He laughs, low and warm. The vibration moves through me. “I’ll make her something other than a bookshop owner. Maybe a chocolatier.”
“A chocolatier in the desert?”
“I’ll make it work.”
“What would you write about me?” he asks. There’s genuine curiosity in his voice. Not ego. Not fishing for flattery or looking for ammunition.
“I’ll write a man who shows up,” I say quietly. “Every time, without being asked. Who makes coffee with honey because he pays attention, and calls someone his treasure for five years and means it every single time.” I trace a line down his chest with myfinger. “A man who stops a kiss because he wants the woman to be sure, even when it’s killing him.”
His arm tightens around me.
“That’s not a character,” he says, voice rough. “That’s just what you do when you love someone.”
“That’s exactly why it makes a good book.”
He tips my chin up and kisses me slowly. No urgency, no leading anywhere. Just a kiss that saysI’m here and I’m not letting you go.
When he pulls back, his thumb traces my jaw.
“Write whatever you want about me,tesoro. Just make sure the ending is happy.”
“It will be.” I settle back against his chest.
“Yeah?” His lips press against my temple. “How does it end?”
“The blacksmith and the chocolatier stop pretending they’re just friends. He tells her he’s been in love with her for five years. She tells him she’s an idiot for not seeing it sooner.” I pause. “And she stays. Not because she’s running from something, but because she finally found the place she was running to.”
I feel his chest rise and hold under my cheek.
“I like that ending,” he says quietly.
“Me too.”
We stay like that. Quiet. Still.
Tomorrow I’ll start planning the shop rebuild. Tomorrow I’ll call my insurance company, order new inventory, and figure out how to reopen Wildflower Books stronger than before.
Tomorrow I’ll check my sales numbers and start thinking more about book two.
But tonight, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I’m home.
Epilogue
One Month Later
The ribbon is red.
Isabel picked it out. She said it had to be red because “red is for passion, and romance is passion, and anyone who has a problem with that can fight me.”
Macy agreed.
