Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Juliet
It was just a kiss.
That’s what I told myself while I unlocked the shop the next morning, while I flipped on the lights and tied my apron and started the coffee maker in the back. Just a kiss. Brief. Controlled. No promises. No declarations.
Just a kiss.
The problem was that my mouth still remembered it.
I tried to shake the thought away and focused on the work in front of me.
Valentine’s week didn’t care about my internal spirals.
Orders still need to be filled. Stems still needed trimming.
Brides and boyfriends and frantic last-minute romantics still needed reassurance that flowers could fix whatever mess they’d made.
And I now also had fifty motorcycles I needed to deck out with flowers.
By ten a.m., the shop was humming.
Jenna and Jackie moved like they always did during crunch time, efficient, sharp, finishing each other’s sentences and reading my expressions without me having to say a word. If they noticed I was quieter than usual, they didn’t comment.
I appreciated that.
The bell chimed just after noon.
I didn’t look up right away, assuming it was another pickup or delivery question. I was mid-assembly on a dozen red roses when a familiar presence settled into the room like gravity.
I knew before I saw him.
Asher stood near the counter, jacket off this time, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms that were very unfair to my concentration.
“Morning,” he said.
I lifted my gaze, heart doing that annoying little skip I was determined to ignore. “You’re here.” Duh, obviously.
“Got an update.”
Of course he did.
I gestured toward the side counter where the mock-ups were laid out. “What kind of update?”
“Numbers changed.”
I sighed. “They always do.”
“More bikes,” he added.
I looked at him sharply. “How many more?”
“Ten.”
“That’s sixty now,” I said, already reaching for my clipboard.
“I know.”
He didn’t apologize. He didn’t soften it. He just stated it like a fact, which somehow made it easier to accept.
I adjusted my notes, recalculating stem counts and materials. “That affects things, but I can make it work.” This afternoon the bulk of my order for the charity ride would be here, and I had thankfully ordered extra just in case. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
“I figured you could handle it.”
I glanced up at him. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised me. Not because it was cocky, but because it was simple. It was nice to know that he had that much faith in me. I nodded once. “Okay. I’ll adjust.”
He stayed while I worked, leaning against the counter like he wasn’t in a hurry. Not hovering. Just… present.
I kept telling myself the kiss hadn’t changed anything.
Except it had.
Not in the obvious ways. Not in the heat or the flirting or the charged looks. It had changed the way the air felt when he was nearby. He wasn’t a stranger anymore. He wasn’t just a client.
He was a man I’d kissed.
And somehow, that made everything quieter and louder at the same time.
Jackie and Jenna had taken over the front counter, and we moved to the prep table in the back. The large order for the ride arrived, and it was time for me to get to work.
We talked while I worked. Not about anything deep at first. Logistics. Weather forecasts. Traffic patterns. He told me which intersections tended to clog and which stretches of road stayed smooth during rides.
Eventually, the conversation drifted.
“Why flowers?” I asked, fingers busy tying a leather strap.
He considered the question longer than I expected. “Because people expect noise. And engines. And leather.”
“And flowers disrupt that,” I finished.
“Yes.”
I smiled despite myself. “My mom would’ve loved that.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. “Tell me about her.”
I hesitated. Then, “She started this place with one cooler and a borrowed van. Said flowers made people slow down long enough to feel something.”
“That tracks.”
I laughed softly. “She’d like you.”
He snorted. “Doubtful.”
“No,” I said. “She respected men who showed up.”
That quieted him.
The afternoon light shifted across the shop as I worked, the hum of the cooler a steady backdrop. At some point, I realized I wasn’t tense anymore. I wasn’t bracing for him to overstep or push.
Six o’clock came, and Jackie and Jenna closed up the shop. They both gave me knowing glances as they hurried out the door and locked it behind them.
I was reaching up to grab a bundle of ribbon from the shelf when I felt him behind me. Close, not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of him through my shirt.
“Careful,” he murmured.
I turned too quickly, surprised that he was so close, and my elbow crashed into his chest. His hands came up automatically, and his palms grabbed my waist.
We froze.
The space between us crackled, thick and undeniable.
It would’ve been so easy to lean in. To let the line completely blur. To tell myself we’d already crossed it once, so what was once more?
But I didn’t.
I stepped back instead, heart racing, and forced a breath into my lungs. “We should… keep this professional.”
He dropped his hands immediately, like the words were a command he couldn’t ignore, his expression going blank in a way that felt practiced. “I agree.”
That was the worst part.
The fact that he didn’t argue. That he didn’t look disappointed or irritated. Just calm. Controlled. Like this was the right call, and he’d already accepted it.
I nodded, turning back to my work with shaking hands, pretending my pulse wasn’t still crashing through me.
I heard his footsteps.
One. Two.
Then they stopped.
The air shifted before he even spoke, and I felt it. That instinctive awareness, the kind that had nothing to do with professionalism and everything to do with him.
“Juliet,” he said quietly.
I turned before I could stop myself.
He was already moving. No hesitation this time. No careful distance. His jaw was tight, eyes dark, like something inside him had finally snapped. “Fuck being professional,” he muttered.
Then he was in front of me, one hand coming up to my waist like he’d done it a thousand times before, like it belonged there. His other hand framed my face, thumb brushing my cheek with a tenderness that didn’t match the fire in his eyes.
He didn’t ask.
He kissed me.
His mouth covered mine with purpose, heat flooding through me as he pulled me closer, like he was done pretending this didn’t matter.
I made a soft sound I didn’t recognize, fingers curling into his shirt as the kiss deepened, slower but stronger, like he was pouring everything he hadn’t said into it.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“That was…” I trailed off, breathless, my thoughts scattering just as badly as my pulse.
A slow, crooked smile spread across his lips. “Fucking good?” he chuckled.
Heat rushed to my cheeks so fast it was impossible to hide. I nodded. “Yes.”
He stepped back slowly, deliberately, like he was forcing himself to create space even though every part of him wanted the opposite. His hands dropped to his sides, and the loss of his closeness hit me harder than I expected.
I cleared my throat and smoothed my hands down the front of my shirt. I needed something familiar. Something normal. “I should… I need to get back to work.”
“Yeah,” he said easily, even though his eyes never left my face. “You should.”
I turned back toward the counter, focusing on putting distance between us. My movements felt careful, overly controlled, like I was holding myself together with sheer will. I reached for a stack of papers and straightened them even though they were already neat. Anything to keep my hands busy.
I could feel him still there.
Watching.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, my fingers betraying me with the slightest tremble. I forced a steady breath into my lungs before lifting my chin, pretending the room wasn’t still charged with everything we’d just done.
“You don’t have to stand there,” I said after a moment, keeping my eyes on all of the flowers in front of me.
“I know,” he replied.
He didn’t move.
I could practically feel his attention on me as I worked, like he was memorizing the way I existed in this moment.
And maybe he was.