Chapter Eleven
Juliet
The shop was quiet.
Everything was loaded into the van.
Every arrangement. Every handlebar wrap. Every carefully labeled crate stacked and secured like we knew what we were doing all along.
I stood alone in the middle of What In Carnation and just… looked.
The prep tables were wiped down. Buckets stacked neatly by the sink. Ribbon bins closed and shoved back into their places. Even the floor, usually littered with petals and stems during Valentine’s week, was mostly clean.
The front window was still boarded up, but that would be taken care of on Monday.
We’d made it through.
The chaos. The pressure. The fear that I’d miss something important or drop a ball I couldn’t afford to lose.
I pressed my hands to the counter and let myself breathe.
Just days ago, I’d been wound so tight I could barely think past the next order. My whole world had been survival to get through the week, keep the shop running, and don’t let grief or exhaustion catch up to me.
Then Asher had walked in.
He should’ve added stress. A biker vice president showing up during Valentine’s week, needing custom work, bringing logistics and complications, and attention I didn’t have time for.
Instead, somehow, even with the extra work, even with the danger, everything had felt… better.
I wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
The door opened behind me, the sound soft in the quiet shop.
I didn’t turn right away.
I didn’t have to.
I felt him before I saw him.
Asher walked in looking like his usual self. Leather cut, worn boots, presence filling the space without trying. He took in the room like he was cataloging it, then his gaze landed on me and stayed there.
I turned slowly, my heart doing that familiar, steady flip.
“You did it,” he said.
“We did,” I corrected softly.
He crossed the space between us without hurry and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest like it was instinct. Like it was already decided.
I melted into him without thinking.
His mouth found mine, the kiss slow and sure.
There was a promise in it.
Not about tomorrow, but about after.
About this not ending when the ride did.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “Ready to go home, doll?” he murmured.
I smiled against his chest. “Yeah,” I said. “Take me home, Asher.”