Ellie
“Mrs. Winchester,” I groaned, arms crossed tightly over my chest as I stood before the cooler packed full of flowers, watching her examine each bouquet.
Every single one I picked wasn’t good enough.
To be honest, my patience was wearing thin, and I was making absolutely no effort to hide it.
“None of these are speaking to me, sweetheart,” she said, waving a perfectly manicured hand at the floral arrangements in front of her like they were peasant offerings.
“Well, us standing here isn’t going to magically make one of them start whispering,” I muttered, my tone sharper than usual, laced with a bite I didn’t bother sweetening.
She shot me a look of pure offense, her jaw slack and her hand instantly covering her mouth.
I sucked in a deep breath, pressing my lips together. After a beat, I forced a saccharine smile and batted my lashes.
“What if I check the back? Maybe there’s something from the new shipment that might be more your style.”
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, that would be amazing,” she gushed, her fiery red hair bouncing as she clapped her hands with excitement.
Without another word, I turned on my heels and headed straight to the back—where, for the record, there was no new shipment. I’d made that up because if I spent another thirty seconds trying to please Mrs. Winchester, I was going to lose it and throw a tulip at her head.
“Sandy!” I called, storming into her office and collapsing dramatically onto the small, worn couch pressed against the wall.
She looked up from her ancient desktop, glasses halfway down her nose, her expression soft and familiar—equal parts amusement and concern.
“Mrs. Winchester again?” she asked knowingly.
I nodded, letting my head fall back with a groan.
“I don’t have one more damn bouquet of tulips to show her. And I definitely don’t have anything else that fits her ever-changing definition of the right vibe.” I made air quotes with my fingers as I spoke.
Sandy pushed back from her desk and rolled across the concrete floor in her squeaky chair. She tapped my arm gently, like only someone with true grandma energy could.
“I’ll take care of her,” she said with a little wink. “I’ve got just the thing in mind. Why don’t you step outside for a minute and get some fresh air?”
I stood and bent to hug her, grateful for the excuse. Her arms wrapped around me in that warm, grounding way that made everything feel just a little less heavy.
“If you need to head home early, you let me know, dear.”
I shook my head and waved her off. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”
I pushed through the back of the shop and stepped into the alley, the warm late-afternoon air instantly hitting my skin, loosening some of the tension.
And then I froze.
To my left a few feet down the alley, Miles stood casually like he’d been waiting.
Waiting—for me.
Just like that, the moment of peace vanished, replaced by a different kind of pressure entirely.
I hadn’t spoken to him since the night at the bar. It’d been two days, and I’d kept entirely to myself.
Everyone had seen what happened. I thanked the stars that Boone had been in the bathroom when it went down—if he had seen any of it, I wasn’t sure Miles would still be around to tell the story.
The way Miles reacted that night shook me. And when I paired it with what he’d done in the limo, things started looking a whole lot different. I’d tried to be generous, to chalk it up to him trying too hard—nerves, maybe—but now? I wasn’t so confident in that excuse.
“Ellie,” he called.
Footsteps approached fast and heavy, echoing down the pavement until Miles stood directly in front of me.
I would’ve rather dealt with Mrs. Winchester and her endless tulip complaints than this.
I turned to go, but his voice stopped me again—quieter this time, softer.
“Ellie, please. Wait.”
I froze. Exhaled. Then turned slowly, compelled to face him and hear him out. I believed in a fair chance and as much as I wanted to shut him out, that wasn’t who I was.
“What, Miles?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and to his credit, the regret in his voice felt real. His brows were furrowed, eyes shadowed with something that almost looked like shame. He looked like a wounded puppy seeking answers. Guilt pinched in my chest.
I shifted my weight, crossing my arms. “Okay.”
“I’ve been trying to catch you,” he continued, “to talk to you face-to-face about what happened. That wasn’t me. It was completely out of character.”
He took a half step forward and then stopped. “I don’t really drink—and that’s why. I lose all my filters when I do.”
“You say that like it’s an excuse,” I replied, voice flat.
Miles winced, then reached out to place his hands gently on my arms, but I stepped back, and he let them fall to his sides.
“It’s not,” he said quickly. “It’s not an excuse. There’s no way to explain how I acted that doesn’t sound awful, but… I got jealous.”
Jealous.
The word hit like a pinprick—and brought with it a flash of Logan leaning against the wall, cowboy hat casting his eyes in shadow, beer bottle to his lips, gaze fixed on me. That attention had set something ablaze inside me—a quiet, slow burn I still felt now just thinking about it.
Miles was still talking.
“I just really like you. A lot,” he said. “And seeing other guys watching you… I panicked. I thought I was going to lose my shot.”
The way he said it—the way he framed it—like I was a thing to be lost, a possession to be claimed.
I got the ick.
Jealousy could be hot—when it came from a place of longing, of quiet wanting. But this? This had felt like control. Like ownership. Like a warning.
Miles shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck like the guilt was a physical weight dragging him down. His gaze darted to mine again, hopeful but cautious.
“Can I just… have one more chance to prove I’m not that guy?” he asked, voice softer now, almost uncertain. “Let me show you that night wasn’t who I really am.”
I looked at him for a long moment. He was waiting for a yes—maybe even expecting one.
“I need to make something clear,” I said, my voice sure despite the swirl in my chest. “What you did? Grabbing me like that? Talking to me the way you did? That’s not okay.
Not then. Not ever. I don’t care how jealous or drunk or off your game you were.
You don’t get to put your hands on me like that. ”
He nodded, eyes wide. “I know. I swear to you, I know.”
“I’m not someone who’s going to shrink herself to make a man comfortable,” I continued. “I won’t apologize for dancing or laughing or being happy, especially not to someone I’m just getting to know.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.
“I was the one out of line. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling like he was trying to force out all the mistakes he’d made.
“I like you. That hasn’t changed. And I hate that the first time I got to be around the people who matter to you, I messed it up. ”
I didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched between us, thick with tension.
Finally, he spoke again, a small smile creeping onto his face, boyish and hopeful. “Come over tonight,” he said. “Let me cook for you. No pressure. Just… a meal. One I promise you’ll never forget.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “You think food can fix this?”
“I think food can be the start of something better,” he said. “You give me an hour, I’ll give you the best meal you’ve ever had.”
I hesitated. This wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t trust. But it was a crack in the door—a way to see if the man standing in front of me had something real to offer beyond apologies and charm.
“One chance,” I said firmly. “This doesn’t mean we’re good. This means I’m willing to see if you mean what you’re saying.”
He lit up, the tension in his shoulders melting just slightly. “You won’t regret it.”
“I better not,” I replied, already mentally kicking myself just a little.
He took a slow step back. “Eight o’clock?”
“Text me the address.”
As he turned and walked away, I leaned against the brick wall, pressing my hands to my face.
What the hell was I doing?
I’d been warned by Logan about Miles, and yet here I was, agreeing to give him a second chance. I felt guilty for not taking his advice, but I also needed to trust myself and make decisions on my own. If this blew up in my face, I knew I’d have to pick up the pieces.