She was already trying to establish boundaries. Already putting up walls.
*Wouldn't dream of anything else.*
He added a winking emoji because he knew it would annoy her.
Then he pocketed his phone and headed for the door, already thinking about their next meeting.
The next morning he headed into town, whistling cheerfully. Bloom & Vine occupied an old two-story brick building on Main Street that had been empty for nearly a decade before Marigold arrived. The previous owner had run a small hardware store there until his death, and his heirs had let the lease lapse while arguing about the estate.
Now the window displays held an explosion of color that stopped pedestrians in their tracks.
He paused across the street to appreciate it. Whoever had designed this arrangement knew exactly what they were doing. Tall spikes of blue delphinium anchored the composition, softened by clouds of white baby's breath and punctuated by bursts of coral peonies. Trailing ivy spilled over the edges of vintage copper vessels, and the whole thing was arranged to catch the morning light like stained glass.
*She's good,*he thought.*Really good.*
The shop door jingled as he pushed it open, releasing a wave of scent that washed over him—roses and eucalyptus, herbs and something darker, earthier. His satyr senses, always more acute than a human's, parsed the individual notes: the sweetness of sweet peas from that basket near the door, the sharp green of freshly cut stems, the faint undertone of rich soil.
Marigold stood at the counter with her back to him, arms elbow-deep in flowers and wire and what appeared to be organized chaos. She was wearing a practical canvas apron over a soft green blouse, her dark brown braid trailing down her spine, a pencil tucked behind her ear.
"Be right with you," she said without turning. "If you're here for the Hendricks arrangement, it's almost?—"
"I'm not here for an arrangement."
Her spine stiffened. She turned, and there it was again—that flicker of wariness in her green eyes, the slight tightening of her jaw.
"Thallos."
"Good morning to you too, little flower." He grinned, deliberately easy, letting his hooves click softly against the floorboards as he moved toward the counter. "Sleep well?"
"Fine. Thank you." She set down the wire cutters she'd been holding, squared her shoulders, and faced him like someone preparing for battle. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly." He glanced pointedly at the refrigerated display case to his left, where ranks of prepared arrangements sat waiting for pickup. "I could come back if you'd rather?—"
"No. I mean—" She pressed her lips together, visibly annoyed at her own flustered response. "You didn't say you were coming by."
"Didn't I?" He pulled out his phone, made a show of scrolling through their brief text exchange. "You're right. How terribly rude of me."
"I don't think you're actually sorry."
"I'm not." He pocketed the phone and smiled at her. "But I figured you'd dodge a scheduled meeting. This way you can't pretend to have a conflict."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and oh, that was a good look on her. The color spread from her cheekbones down her neck, and he couldn't help wondering how far down that tide of pink had traveled. Her fingers twitched toward the wire cutters like she was considering using them as a weapon.
"I would not have dodged?—"
"No?"
"I'm a professional." She lifted her chin. "If we have festival business to discuss, we should discuss it. I was simply expecting some warning."
"Consider this warning for next time." He leaned against the counter, deliberately casual, deliberately close. Close enough to catch a hint of her scent beneath the overwhelming perfume of the flowers—something warm and a little sweet, like vanilla and spring rain. "Do you want to show me around the rest of your shop?"
She blinked. "What?"
"The shop." He gestured at the space around them. "I want to see it. If we're going to be working together, I should know what you're capable of."
That got a reaction. Her eyes narrowed, some of her wariness transforming into something sharper.
"What I'm capable of?"
