Chapter Seven
Juliet
Saturday was coming.
Jenna had the order board pulled down from the wall, rewriting names and quantities in her tight, efficient handwriting.
Jackie was elbow-deep in ribbon bins, muttering to herself as she sorted shades of red that only she could apparently tell apart.
The coolers hummed steadily, packed tight with blooms that wouldn’t last long once the rush hit.
I stood at the prep table, sleeves rolled up, fingers sticky with sap as I stripped stems and lined them up by length.
Controlled chaos.
The best kind.
“If one more person asks if we do same-day custom heart arches,” Jackie said, popping up from behind the counter, “I’m going to fake my own death.”
“You can’t,” Jenna replied without looking up. “We’re understaffed.”
Jackie sighed dramatically. “Figures.”
I smiled faintly and kept working. Valentine’s week always crazy. It was exhausting, but it was familiar.
The bell over the door chimed, and I barely looked up at first.
“Be right with you,” Jenna called automatically.
The man who stepped inside didn’t look like our usual customer.
That registered slowly, like a pressure change. Heavy boots. Leather vest. A cut sat across his shoulders, patch bold and unmistakable even from a distance.
Chrome Warriors.
My hands stilled.
Jackie noticed first. Her posture stiffened slightly as she looked him over, eyes flicking briefly to me before she forced a bright smile and stepped forward.
“Hi there,” she said. “What can we help you with?”
The guy’s gaze swept the shop like he was assessing it for weak points instead of bouquets. He stopped at the cooler, then the counter, then Jackie herself.
“I need flowers,” he said. Flat. Impatient. He slapped some money in the counter.
Jackie nodded. “Okay! What kind of—” Her eyes dropped to his vest again, and something clicked behind them. Her mouth opened before her brain could catch up. “Do you—uh—do you know Asher?”
The air shifted instantly.
The guy’s head snapped toward her.
He hooked a thumb under the edge of his cut and tugged it forward, pointing at the patch like it was a weapon. “Does this,” he said slowly, “look like Ruthless Vultures to you?”
Jackie flushed crimson. “I—I didn’t mean—sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
He leaned closer to the counter. “How do you even know who the Ruthless Vultures are?”
Jackie hesitated. Her eyes flicked to me just for a second, but it was enough for the guy to notice.
The guy followed her gaze, eyes landing on me as he’d just found something interesting.
My stomach tightened.
Before either of them could say anything else, the bell chimed again.
Asher.
His name didn’t get said aloud, but I felt him the second he stepped inside. The room changed the way it always did when he entered. He made everything feel right.
He didn’t see the Chrome guy right away.
He came straight behind the counter like he belonged there, because he did, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to my cheek.
I turned my head at the last second. My eyes were locked on the man across the counter.
Asher felt it. He froze, just barely. “What—” he started, then followed my gaze. The second his eyes landed on the Chrome Warriors patch; his entire body went taut.
“Asher Jake,” the guy spat, like the name tasted bad in his mouth.
The shop went silent.
Jenna stopped writing. Jackie stopped breathing. Even the cooler seemed to run quite.
Asher didn’t raise his voice. “What the hell are you doing on this side of town?” he asked.
The Chrome guy sneered. “I go wherever I want.”
Asher took a half-step forward, not aggressive, just enough to make a point. “Not here.”
The guy’s gaze slid back to me, slow and ugly. “If I’d known you were screwing one of the flower chicks, I wouldn’t have stepped foot in this place.”
I felt Asher tense beside me. Sharp, contained, and dangerous in a way that made my skin prickle.
The guy slapped the small bundle of flowers he’d been holding onto the counter like it was trash. “Don’t want ’em.” He reached over, snatched the cash back from the counter, and shoved it into his pocket. “Fuck the Vultures,” he said, already turning toward the door.
Jackie found her voice just as he reached it. “We don’t want your business anyway!”
The bell chimed sharply as he left.
Asher exhaled slowly, like he was forcing something down. He turned to me immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think—”
Jenna snorted. “That dude was a total douche.”
Jackie nodded emphatically. “Seriously.”
Their normalcy cracked the tension just enough for me to breathe again.
I leaned back against the prep table with my heart racing. “What was that about?”
Asher didn’t dodge it. “There’s bad blood between the clubs,” he said. “Chrome’s always trying to push into our territory. They’re stupid but also trouble.”
I swallowed. “So… if we see any of them again?”
“Tell me,” he said immediately. “Any of you. Right away.”
Jenna and Jackie nodded without hesitation.
“Got it,” Jenna said. “No Chrome Warriors welcome here. Ever.”
The bell chimed again, this time bringing in a wave of regular customers like the universe was determined to reassert normalcy. A couple needing roses. A guy looking panicked and apologetic. Life moving on.
Jenna and Jackie jumped back into motion like pros, ushering people to the counter, voices bright and steady.
Asher stayed where he was.
Close.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, even though my hands were still shaking just a little. “Yeah. Just… startled. That guy was just… bad news.”
His placed his hand on my waist. “You don’t need to worry about that guy or the Chrome Warriors. You have nothing to do with our beef.”
I looked up at him then, really looked.
“I didn’t know your club had drama,” I said.
“We don’t,” he muttered. “It’s all the Chrome Warriors being idiots. But you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll handle it if they try to do anything to you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry, doll.”
I believed him and he didn’t need to be sorry. I could obviously see that guy was the problem and not Asher.
The rush swallowed us up after that, customers filling the shop, questions flying, hands moving constantly. But every time I glanced up, Asher was there, steady, watchful, and present without hovering.
When there was finally a lull, he leaned in again, slower this time, deliberate. “You good?” he murmured.
I smiled faintly. “With you here, I am.”
He kissed me then. Not rushed, not territorial. Just warm and reassuring, like a promise he didn’t need to say out loud.
And for the first time since the bell had chimed and the wrong man had walked into my shop, I felt safe again.