Fueled By Desire (14 Days of Love and Lust Bikers & Mobsters)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Juliet

The bell above the door of What In Carnation chimed for the third time in under a minute, and I didn’t even look up.

“If that’s another guy asking if red roses mean love or lust, tell him they mean he waited too damn long,” I said, snipping the stems of a bundle of white ranunculus and dropping them into the bucket at my feet.

“I already told him love,” Jenna called from the front counter. “But he looked disappointed, so I added lusty peonies for an extra twenty.”

Jackie laughed from behind the register. “You’re going to get us sued.”

“Worth it,” Jenna said. “Valentine’s Day brings out the weirdest people. Yesterday a man asked if we sold apology bouquets.”

I finally glanced up. “We do. They’re called roses. And regret.”

Jackie grinned. “God, I love this week.”

I didn’t.

I loved the shop. I loved the smell of fresh greenery and clean water, the quiet hum of the cooler in the back, the way sunlight filtered through the front windows and caught on glass vases like tiny prisms. I loved my employees.

Both of them fiercely competent, slightly feral, and capable of handling a rush without melting down.

But Valentine’s week?

Valentine’s week was war.

Orders were taped to every surface. Clipboards hung from hooks. Pink and red ribbon spilled out of drawers like party streamers after a parade. My hands were nicked from thorns and sticky with sap, and it was barely noon.

“Juliet,” Jenna said, lowering her voice as she leaned over the counter. “You haven’t eaten.”

“I had coffee.”

“That’s not food.”

“And a bagel with cream cheese. I have actually eaten.” I was on the ball today.

Jackie wagged her finger at me. “You better keep eating or I swear I’ll tell people you’re secretly anti-love.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “If I were anti-love, I wouldn’t be drowning in heart-shaped nonsense right now.”

“Blasphemy,” Jenna said. “This nonsense pays our rent.”

“And destroys sanity,” I muttered.

The bell chimed again.

This time, the sound was… different.

Not louder or sharper. Just heavier. Like the air shifted with it.

I looked up.

And immediately understood why Jenna went quiet.

He filled the doorway in a way that didn’t make sense. Tall. Broad shoulders. Leather cut worn soft at the seams, like it had been broken in by years instead of fashion. Dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. Boots that had seen real roads, not sidewalks.

He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either.

He just stood there, eyes scanning the shop like he was cataloging exits and threats instead of vases and bouquets.

Well. That was new.

“Hi,” Jackie said brightly, because Jackie had never met a human being she couldn’t charm. “Welcome to What In Carnation. How can we—”

“I’m here about flowers,” he said. His voice was low. Calm. Not rushed. Not apologetic. Definitely not flirty.

“Um, Juliet?” Jackie called.

My spine straightened before I told it to. “For Valentine’s Day?” I asked, setting my clippers down and wiping my hands on my apron as I stepped forward. “If you’re looking to place an order, I’ll warn you now, we’re booking fast.”

His eyes shifted to me.

Not hungry. Not appreciative.

Assessing.

“For a ride,” he said. “Charity event. Valentine’s Day morning.”

That got my attention, whether I liked it or not. “A ride?”

“Motorcycles.”

Of course. My mind had briefly went to him riding… me. Down, girl. I kept my expression neutral, because professionalism mattered. “All right. What kind of flowers are you thinking?”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering the answer even though he already knew it. “Ones to go on the bikes.”

I blinked. “On the… bikes.”

“Handlebars,” he clarified. “Front frames. Nothing loose. Nothing that’ll tangle or fly off.”

Behind me, Jenna made a small choking sound. I shot her a look without turning my head. “You want floral arrangements,” I said carefully, “attached to motorcycles.”

“Yes.”

During Valentine’s week. The busiest week of the year. Wowzers.

I exhaled slowly. “I appreciate the creativity and you coming in here, but I don’t think—”

“I’m not asking for centerpieces,” he interrupted, still calm. “I want something clean. Simple. Red and white, maybe. Something that looks intentional.”

I folded my arms. “I’m fully booked.” That wasn’t a brush-off. It was a fact. I gestured vaguely at the chaos behind me. “Two weddings. Standing orders. Valentine’s deliveries. I can’t take on new projects this close to the holiday. Valentine’s is only in five days.”

He didn’t argue.

That alone threw me.

Most men, especially those who looked like him, pushed. Negotiated. Tried to charm or intimidate their way into a yes.

He just nodded once. “Fair,” he said.

Then he turned like he was going to leave.

Something in my chest loosened and tightened at the same time. “Wait,” I said before I could stop myself. “How many bikes?”

He paused, glanced back over his shoulder. “At least fifty.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not.” The man was insane to walk in here five days before Valentine’s Day and want me to make enough arrangements to put on fifty motorcycles.

A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Think about it,” he said, and then he was gone, the bell chiming softly behind him.

The shop felt louder after that.

“Well,” Jenna said after a beat. “That was… something.”

Jackie leaned toward me, eyes bright. “Please tell me you saw his arms.”

“I saw the clock,” I said, though my pulse was still doing something inconvenient. “And the order list. And the fact that I don’t have time to play florist to a motorcycle gang.”

“Motorcycle club,” Jenna corrected. “The patch on his jacket said Ruthless Vultures.”

I froze. “It did?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Very intimidating bird,” she giggled.

I shook my head, turning back to my work. “It’s not happening.” There was no way I could do it on top of everything else this week.

The bell chimed again twenty minutes later.

I didn’t look up right away.

“I swear,” Jenna muttered, “if that’s him again—”

“It’s me again,” the man said.

I sighed and turned.

He stood just inside the door this time, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, gaze locked on me like he’d never left.

“I told you I’m busy,” I said.

“I know.”

“And I’m not taking new projects.”

“I know that too.”

I raised a brow. “Then what are you doing here?”

He stepped closer to the counter, lowering his voice, not secretive, just intentional. “I’ll pay you triple,” he said. “And I want you personally handling it.”

The shop went dead silent.

Jenna’s mouth dropped open. Jackie’s eyes went wide.

I felt heat climb up my neck, not from the money, but from the way he said it. Like he wanted me for more than arrangements for his motorcycle ride thing.

“I don’t sell my time just because someone waves cash.”

“Good,” he said.

That threw me harder than the offer. He should have been offended and mad that I was telling him no. Instead, he seemed… glad about it.

“I’m not buying convenience,” he continued. “I’m buying your eye. Your hands. Your creativity.”

I stared at him. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you didn’t flinch when I said bikes,” he said. “I know you shut me down without being rude. And I know you’re running this place like it matters.”

I swallowed.

“That doesn’t mean I am going to drop everything to help you,” I said.

“I didn’t say it did.” He straightened, taking a step back like he was deliberately giving me space. “Think about it. If it’s no, it’s no.” Then he added, quieter, “But I don’t overpay unless it matters.”

He left again.

This time, the bell sounded like a challenge.

Jenna rounded on me the second the door closed. “Juliet.”

“No.”

“Triple.”

“No.”

“TRIPLE.”

I leaned my hands on the counter, heart thudding harder than I wanted to admit. “I need to think.”

“I’m thinking about the way that man looked at you like he was two seconds away from kissing you,” Jackie drawled.

“He was not!” I gasped.

Jenna glanced at Jackie and nodded.

“Yeah, he was,” they said in unison.

“He wants me to do some flowers for him, not do–.”

“Him,” Jackie laughed. “That man wants you to do his flowers and then do him.”

“In that order,” Jenna cackled.

I tossed a junk piece of stem at Jenna. “You two need to get back to work and stop talking,” I scolded.

“Yes, boss,” Jackie laughed.

I turned back to the prep table and took a deep breath.

I was not doing the flowers for the motorcycle ride. At least, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to.