“…yet,” Blaze finished carefully.
Now she smiled. “That’s better.”
Sheraton Beach truly was too damn small.
He climbed the stairs and stopped outside Johanna’s apartment door. For one brief moment, he stood completely still.
Not because he didn’t know what to say.
But because this mattered.
He’d walked her home after football games, kissed her beneath boardwalk lights, and held her hand on quiet beaches beneath summer stars while believing loving Johanna Bennettwould always be the easiest thing he'd ever do.
Then life happened. He made mistakes, chased the wrong things, and convinced himself there would always be time to fix what was broken. By the time he realized otherwise, he'd already lost her.
Blaze closed his eyes briefly before knocking. A few seconds passed. Then the door opened. And every coherent thought disappeared from his head.
Johanna stood there in a crimson-red wrap dress that skimmed every curve he already remembered too well. The warm color deepened the richness of her brown skin while the fitted waist and slit along one thigh nearly knocked the breath straight out of him.
Her curls were pinned loosely to one side, exposing the elegant line of her neck and small gold hoops brushing against her jaw every time she moved.
And her lips…
Jesus.
That soft berry gloss looked dangerous.
“Damn.”
The word escaped before he could stop it. No charm or game. Just the truth.
Johanna’s eyebrows lifted. “Was that your opening line?”
Blaze let his gaze travel over her without apology.
“I had one planned.”
“What happened to it?”
“You opened the door.”
Color warmed her cheeks before she looked away.
There it was. That soft flush he used to love causing when they were younger. Satisfaction settled low in Blaze’s chest.
He held out the bouquet.
Johanna looked down at the flowers and something in her expression softened before she could hide it.
Not roses.
He knew better than to buy her roses.
The bouquet held sunflowers, white daisies, and lavender tied with cream ribbon.
Her favorites.
Or at least they used to be.
