Chapter One
Debt and Desire
Lilly
“Don’t get used to this, Sunny.”
My goldendoodle’s ears perked up as I tore the tag off a squeaky plush bone I’d pulled from the display shelf. “Inventory is not meant for freeloaders, even the four-legged kind.”
Sunny tilted her head, ears perked, eyes bright with the kind of anticipation that made resistance impossible. With a dramatic sigh, I tossed the toy across the shop floor. She scrambled forward, nails clicking against the wood before grabbing it, tail wagging like I’d just handed her the crown jewels.
“At least one of us gets a freebie,” I muttered, giving my apron a sharp tug.
The place reeked of roses and eucalyptus—sweet on the surface, suffocating if you stood in it too long. The cooler hummed like it owned the room, and every shelf gleamed with picture-perfect displays designed to screambuy me.
Too bad I couldn’t polish the numbers underneath. They were ugly enough to wilt the flowers on sight.
My phone was tucked between my ear and shoulder, the voice of Martin—my increasingly testy supplier—crackling through the line.
“Martin, I told you I’d review my books this week,” I said, straightening a display of fresh bouquets. “I’m aware my payments are late, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sound quite so gleeful about it.”
Sunny lifted her head from the rug behind the coutner, the toy dangling from her mouth. Her golden eyes followed me as though she knew my frustration wasn’t just about invoices.
“Yes, I understand you have other clients,” I went on, pinching a brow with my free hand. “I’ll get back to you. I promise.”
It was the same line I’d been giving him for almost a month now. And every time I said it, it tasted more like sawdust.
I set a vase onto the counter harder than I should’ve, water sloshing dangerously close to the edge. In my head, my parents’ voices played on repeat—don’t worry about us, honey, the pension stretches far enough, the Lord always provides.
Yeah, sure. Fine enough that my brother had to wire them cash for a new water heater a few months ago. Fine enough that I’d sat at their kitchen table in Arizona, stared at their thinning hair and tired smiles, and written a check I couldn’t afford just so they could fix their air conditioner.
That check was the reason Martin’s invoices were stacked on my desk like a paper army, his clipped voice in my ear sharper by the day.
Their pride didn’t pay suppliers, and my attempt at being the “good daughter” had just about sunk me.Bloom & Vinehad been my dream once. Now it felt like a battlefield lined with bills, and the only thing charging me was debt.
The movement caught me in the shop’s front mirror. A man’s reflection filled the glass, broad shoulders stretching a camo western shirt, jaw shadowed in stubble, presence impossible to ignore. My stomach tightened before my mind even finished his name.
Sawyer James.
Two weeks had passed since Callie and Rhett’s Hawaii honeymoon cruise. Two weeks since I stopped waiting for him to make a move and decided to do it myself. Reckless? Definitely. Worth it? I still couldn’t tell. But then he was there, walking into my shop as if he hadn’t been haunting my dreams every night since.
“Do you have any ideas for Colt and Tessa’s twins’ first birthday?” he asked, voice low and steady, rumbling through me like distant thunder. Casual on the surface, but underneath…something off. Something restless.
The phone receiver nearly slipped from my hand. I pressed the mic tight against my chest, pulse hammering, forcing my mouth to move. “Take a look over there,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the corner stocked with baby baskets, toys, and picture frames.
I spun back around, slipping into the role of “professional florist” like it was a costume I hadn’t quite grown into. My voice caught as I forced myself into conversation with Martin.
“Of course, I’m aware of your policy,” I murmured, though my eyes betrayed me, flicking to the mirror.
Sawyer didn’t hurry. He prowled the aisle like a bull dropped into a dollhouse, his broad frame swallowing up space meant for pastel receiving blankets and stuffed bunnies. He didn’t touch a thing—just stared at the shelves like they were written in code he couldn’t crack. Then, with a slow drag of his hand through his hair, he resettled that damn cowboy hat, the motion so familiar it punched the air out of me.
My chest pulled tight.
Martin droned on in my ear about invoice numbers, but all I heard was the sound of Sawyer’s palm grasping my waist, the press of his mouth in that cramped ship’s cabin. I’d sworn it was a one-time mistake, a lapse I’d bury deep. But staring at him in the glass, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to forget—or if I even could.
“Right, I’ll…review my books tonight,” I told Martin, forcing my voice steady before I hung up.
From my office door, I glimpsed Sawyer’s shoulders shift like he might turn, might catch me staring, and I ducked inside before he noticed. Cowardly, maybe, but the alternative was saying something I couldn’t take back.
