Chapter Two
Holden
I was making a delivery. That's all.
The arrangement had been sitting in the cooler since I put it together this morning, and it needed to go out before the ranunculus started to droop. Professional obligation. Nothing more.
The fact that I'd wrapped it three times before I was satisfied with the ribbon, that I'd adjusted the eucalyptus twice, repositioned the focal bloom until the light caught it just right. That meant nothing. I was particular about my work. Everyone knew that.
The words on the card had been harder than they should have been. Fella basically told me what to say, and it was my job to give the customer what he wanted.
I didn't usually hand-deliver, especially since Lynda left, but the coworking space was only two blocks away, and the morning was cold enough to keep the flowers fresh.
I needed to stretch my legs anyway. Right.
Lies. All of it. I knew exactly why I was walking down Main Street with an arrangement I'd spent too long perfecting, and the knowing sat like a stone in my chest.
Jamie Redford had been in my shop for fifteen minutes, two days ago. He'd walked in with his ridiculous dogs, ordered flowers for himself, and then walked out before I could figure out what to say.
I'd thought about him every day since.
The way he'd looked up and met my eyes. The flush across his cheekbones when he'd blurted out that I was tall. The warmth in his voice when he'd talked about his father bringing his mother flowers.
The mention of an ex-boyfriend.
I didn't do this. Didn't think about customers after they left. Didn't rearrange my morning to maybe cross paths with someone I barely knew.
And yet here I was, arrangement in hand, closing up the shop while I made a delivery.
Maybe I'd grab some lunch on the way back. Mags made a mean club sandwich, and that sounded good today.
The small park across from the Copper Kettle came into view first, just a strip of brown grass and a few benches, nothing special, but it had a clear sightline to the mountains.
I'd sat there sometimes, in the early days after my grandmother died, when the shop felt too quiet and the apartment above it felt quieter.
I saw the dogs before I saw him, straining at their leashes near the bench. Then Jamie, in a navy sweater that kept slipping off his shoulder, not nearly thick enough for January. He was talking to someone.
Landon Fucking Hawkins.
I’d heard Landon was back in town, tail between his legs after getting losing his big-city job.
I stopped walking.
They stood facing each other near the park entrance. Landon had his back to me, but I recognized him by the posture, the expensive jacket, the way he took up space like he was owed it. Jamie was holding both leash handles, and even from thirty feet away I could see the tension in his shoulders.
Landon's voice carried across the cold air.
“—don't know why you even moved here, Jamie. Unless you wanted to keep tabs on me.” A laugh, polished and cruel. “It's a little pathetic, honestly. Following your ex to his hometown? People are going to think you're stalking me.”
I froze.
Jamie must've responded, but it was low, and I couldn't hear it.
I did hear Landon's ugly reply.
“Right. The dogs.” Landon's tone dripped condescension. “Just don't call me when you get lonely, okay? I'm not going to drop everything because you can't handle being on your own.”
Something hot flared in my chest. This was him. The ex Jamie had mentioned, the one who thought buying yourself flowers was ridiculous, who thought Jamie was too much. I'd wondered what kind of person could look at someone like Jamie and see anything but warmth.
Now I knew.
The same Landon Hawkins who'd made half our high school class feel stupid and poor. Fifteen years, and the prick hadn't changed at all.
Jamie's spine curved inward. His chin dropped and he visibly shrunk as he stood there, as all the brightness I'd seen in the shop three days ago dim like someone had turned down a dial.
The dogs sensed it too. Bubblegum pressed against Jamie's ankle. Marceline had stopped straining at her leash and was watching Landon with her ears flat.
I should walk away. This wasn't my business. I barely knew Jamie Redford, and getting involved in whatever this was would be complicated and messy and everything I'd spent years avoiding.
But Landon was still talking, voice low enough now that I couldn't make out the words, and Jamie was still shrinking, eyes blinking fast, and something in me fucking snapped.
I don't remember crossing the street.
My boots were loud on the frozen ground. Landon heard me coming and turned, his expression shifting from surprise to something harder when he registered who I was.
“Holden Hutchinson.” He said my name like it tasted sour. “Didn't expect to see you emerge from your little shop.”
I didn't answer him. I walked straight past him, like I didn't see him, my eyes locked on Jamie, who stared back at me in surprise. I put my arm around Jamie's shoulders and pulled him tight against my side.
Jamie went rigid. His head tilted back, way back, the angle sharp, and his eyes were wide, confused, a little desperate.
Then I bent down and kissed him.
It was meant to be quick. Performative. Just enough to sell the lie I hadn't planned until thirty seconds ago.
But Jamie's mouth was soft, and he made a small sound of surprise against my lips.
The leashes went slack in his grip as he stopped resisting the dogs' pull, stopped resisting anything, and then his free hand came up and fisted in my collar.
He pulled me down, actually pulled, like he was the one in control despite the foot of height between us.
The kiss shifted into something else entirely.
Softer. Slower. His lips parted, and I forgot we had an audience.
Forgot we were standing in a public park in January.
When was the last time someone kissed me like this, sweet and hungry and perfect?
My hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the waves of hair at his nape, and he pressed closer, the leashes wrapped around his other wrist as he flattened his palm against my chest.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing harder than I wanted to admit.
Jamie's eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed. His hand was still twisted in my shirt.
“Hey,” I said. Rough. Stupid. The only word I could find.
“Hey yourself.” His voice was barely a whisper.
I straightened but kept my arm around him, pulling him into my side. Then I glanced over at Landon with what my grandma would've called my “mean mug.”
He was staring. The smugness had cracked, replaced by something I couldn't read. His jaw was tight, his posture stiff. He looked between us like he was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't make sense.
Turning back to Jamie, I said, “I brought you something.” I held the arrangement out to Jamie, keeping my voice casual. Like this was normal. Like I brought my boyfriend flowers all the time. “For the new place. Thought it could use some color.”
Jamie took the flowers, slightly crushed by our kiss. His hands were trembling, but he played along, tucking the arrangement against his chest like it was precious. “They're beautiful. Thank you.”
The card slipped.
The envelope slid free from the stems, caught the wind, and fluttered to the frozen ground. Landon was closer. He bent and scooped it up before either of us could react.
Landon turned it over. His thumb brushed the seal, and then he was pulling out the card, reading the words I'd written this morning.
You're more than enough. Remember that.
Landon's face went still. The the mask slipped, and underneath I saw a flicker of something that might have been guilt. Or recognition. When he looked up, his eyes landed on me.
“Didn't realize you two were together,” he said. Flat. Careful.
I held his gaze. “Now you do.”
Another beat of silence. Landon looked at Jamie, then at the flowers, then at the card still in his hand. I watched him recalculating, trying to fit this new information into whatever story he'd been telling himself about his ex.
He handed the card back. Not to Jamie, but to me. His fingers were stiff, and he didn't quite meet my eyes.
“Well then,” he said with a bitter laugh that didn't mask his shock. “I guess I'll leave you to your… whatever this is.” He held his hand out for the leashes. “Same time next week?”
Jamie thrust them toward Landon, then bent down to give each dog a gentle pet. “Same time.”
Landon took the leashes. Marceline and Bubblegum went excitedly as Landon led them toward the street, clearly happy to go for a ride. His Range Rover was parked at the curb, black, immaculate. He loaded the dogs into the back without looking at us, climbed into the driver's seat, and pulled away.
The engine faded. The street went quiet.
I realized my arm was still around Jamie's shoulders. I should move. Should step back, put some distance between us, figure out what the hell I'd just done.
I didn't move.
“Holden.” Jamie's voice was shaky. When had he learned my name? “What—why did you—”
“I heard what he said to you.” I finally made myself step back, let my arm fall. “The stalking comment. The guy's always been a giant prick.”
Jamie's face crumpled for half a second before he pulled it together. “You heard that.”
“Yeah.”
“And you just decided to kiss me in front of him?”
“I…” I shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He stared at me. Then, impossibly, he laughed. It was watery and a little wild, but it was real, and something in my chest unclenched at the sound.
“You're insane,” he said. “You know that, right? You just told my ex-boyfriend we're dating.”
“I know.”
“In front of witnesses.” He gestured vaguely at Main Street, at the Copper Kettle across the road where people were definitely watching through the windows. “In the middle of town.”
“I'm aware.”