They stood there for a moment, facing each other in the middle of her shop, the air between them thick with flower perfume and something charged and electric, like the space before a storm.
She broke first. She took two quick steps back, putting the counter between them, and reached for a clipboard that was clearly meant to serve as both prop and barrier.
"We should discuss the festival," she said, her voice firmly businesslike. "I've been reviewing the files Ellie sent over. The previous committee had some preliminary notes, but nothing concrete."
"Agreed."
"The event is scheduled for June 21st, which gives us less than six weeks to finalize vendors, entertainment, decorations, permits?—"
"Sounds about right."
"—and we'll need a venue." She flipped through the papers on her clipboard without actually looking at them. "The notes mention several possibilities, but nothing's been confirmed."
"Actually," he said calmly, "the venue's already settled."
Her head came up. "It is?"
"Has been for months." He leaned against her counter again, enjoying the way she tried not to look directly at him. "It's being held at the vineyard."
She went very still.
"Your vineyard."
"My vineyard." He couldn't quite keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Ellie didn't mention that?"
"No." The word came out flat. "She did not."
"Surprise."
He watched her absorb this information, realizing that it meant weeks of planning and meetings and the coordination that would inevitably have to take place on his home turf. Where he had the advantage. Where she would have to come to him.
"So," he continued, pushing off the counter and heading toward the door, "it appears you'll be visiting after all. Think of it as a professional necessity."
"That's… You can't just…"
"Can't just what?" He paused at the threshold, looked back over his shoulder. "Host a festival on my own property? I assure you, it's already been approved. Permits filed, insurance secured, the whole package."
Her jaw was so tight he could see the muscle jumping beneath her skin.
"You planned this."
"I planned to host the festival, yes. Ellie planned you, little flower." He flashed her a genuine smile. "Believe it or not, I'm just as surprised as you are."
"I don't believe you."
"Fair enough." He pushed the door open, letting the morning sunshine spill into the shop. "I'll send you my availability for our next meeting. Something tells me your calendar just freed up."
The door jingled behind him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, and he could have sworn he heard her make that almost-growl sound again.
*Definitely interesting,*he thought, walking toward his truck with a spring in his step he hadn't felt in months.
The florist with the hidden claws and the wary green eyes. Someone who might actually stick around.
CHAPTER 3
Marigold gripped the steering wheel of her ancient Honda Civic and stared through the windshield at row upon row of perfectly aligned vines, their leaves catching the late afternoon light like green flames. Beyond them, the land rolled gently upwards towards the surrounding mountains
*Beautiful,*some traitorous part of her brain whispered.*This is beautiful.*
