Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
brOCK STEELE
I t’s barely eight in the morning, and I’m already making a fool of myself.
The sunflowers feel ridiculous in my hand—bright yellow and completely out of place against my rough, calloused fingers. I blame Ethan. He was the one who convinced me that flowers were a good idea. “Women love that thoughtful stuff,” he’d said. The guy’s a smooth talker who hasn’t had a relationship last more than a few months, so I don’t know why I listened.
Still, when it comes to Willow, I’d do just about anything to make her smile.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since the moment I walked into Sweetly Yours last week. She looked up at me from behind the counter with those big brown eyes—warm and soft, like honey—and I was done for. She doesn’t even realize how beautiful she is. That’s the part that keeps me awake at night.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her round face, and I couldn’t stop staring. And her body... I don’t even have the words for it. Thick in all the right ways, curves that made my palms itch to touch her, and a confidence in how she carried herself—even if she didn’t realize it. She’s short, too, a good foot smaller than me, and I like that. I like that a lot. There’s something about her size that makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and never let go.
But it’s more than how she looks. It’s her laugh, the way her nose crinkles when she smiles, the sound of her voice when she said, “Anything else for you today?” I’ve been replaying that moment in my head like a damn movie reel.
The bell above the bakery door jingles as I step inside, and there she is, standing behind the counter with her hands busy piping frosting onto a tray of cinnamon rolls. She looks... perfect. Her hair’s pulled back again, and there’s a smudge of flour on her cheek. She’s so damn adorable it almost hurts to look at her.
I clear my throat, trying to act normal. “Good morning.”
She looks up, and for a second, I see surprise flicker in her eyes before she recovers with a smile. “Oh, hi. Good morning.”
My heart kicks up a notch. That smile? It’s lethal.
June is leaning on the counter with a coffee in hand, and she gives me a look that’s both amused and suspicious. I nod at her, trying to focus on the flowers in my hand instead of the fact that I can’t stop staring at Willow.
“These are for you,” I say, holding out the bouquet. My voice sounds steadier than I expected.
Willow’s hands freeze mid-pipe, and her eyes widen. “Oh. Wow. They’re beautiful.”
She takes the bouquet, her fingers brushing mine for just a second. The contact is barely anything, but it sends a spark through me.
“They reminded me of you,” I add, and the words slip out before I can think better of it.
Her cheeks turn pink, and she ducks her head, setting the flowers on the counter. “That’s really sweet of you. Thank you.”
I glance at June, who’s grinning like she knows every thought running through my head. Hell, she probably does. She mouths something I think is Don’t blow this.
I clear my throat. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about a custom order.”
“Oh?” she says, her brow lifting in curiosity.
“I’m hosting a launch party for my furniture business in a couple of weeks. I’d like to have some of your pastries there—cookies, cupcakes, whatever you think would work.”
Her eyes widen a little. “You’re hosting a launch party?”
I nod. “Yeah. I just opened a showroom for my business, Iron & Ash Designs. It’s a big deal for me, and I want it to feel special. Your baking would make it... perfect.”
She bites her lip, and I swear my chest tightens at the sight. “I’d be happy to help,” she says softly. “Do you have any specific flavors or designs in mind?”
“Anything you make is fine,” I say quickly, trying not to sound like an idiot. “I trust your judgment.”
Her smile softens, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“I’ll put together some ideas and let you know what I come up with,” she says.
“Perfect.” I hesitate, not wanting to leave just yet. My fingers twitch against the paper in my pocket. Before I can second-guess myself, I pull out a small card with my number on it and slide it across the counter.
“In case you need to go over the details,” I say, my voice lower now. “You can call me. Anytime.”
Her fingers linger on the card as she picks it up, and for a second, our eyes meet.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
I step back, nodding toward the cinnamon rolls. “I’ll take one of those to go.”
She smiles softly, grabbing a sheet of wax paper to wrap it up. When she hands it to me, our fingers brush again. Her touch is soft, delicate, and it makes me want to lean across the counter and tell her everything I’ve been thinking since I met her last week.
Like how I’ve wanted to come back every single day to make sure she’s okay. Or how I catch myself wondering if other men are sniffing around her, trying to steal what I already know is mine.
I clear my throat, pulling a five from my wallet. “How much?”
She shakes her head, waving me off with a little flick of her wrist. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
Her kindness just makes it harder to leave. I glance at her, then at the tip jar on the counter, and slide the five in with a deliberate motion.
She opens her mouth to argue but stops, her eyes meeting mine. There’s something in that gaze—warmth, curiosity, maybe even something more—that makes it hard to walk away.
I grip the bag tightly, forcing myself to step back. She doesn’t need to know how crazy I already am about her. Not yet.
“See you soon, Willow,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
As I step out into the crisp morning air, the scent of cinnamon follows me down the street, and all I can think is that I need her in my life. All of her. Forever.