This is why mortals are dangerous: One flower, and already I want to tell him the truth.
“Hayden.” Irene’s voice cuts through, and I jump, startled, nearly dropping both the flower and the card. My heart pounds as I look up to find her standing in my doorway, eyebrows raised.
“What?” My voice is sharper than intended.
She regards me evenly, her gaze shifting slowly from my face to the flower and the card held awkwardly between my fingers, then back up. Her expression remains unchanged, though I can practically hear her internal laughter.
“Your ten o’clock is here,” she says, slow. “To discuss the…casket delivery?”
We stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. She knows exactly what she’s just witnessed. Me, Hayden Harlow, completely unguarded, distracted. I clear my throat, trying to regain composure.
“Right,” I say firmly, as if authority can erase the last few seconds. “Tell them I’ll be a moment.”
Irene’s lips twitch. “Take your time,” she says and disappears down the hall.
I exhale and run a hand over my face before placing the lily on my windowsill. Levi Wilder, all sunlit smiles and relentless optimism, has effortlessly breached my barriers. Yet, I’m intrigued.
Hope is dangerous for gods.
Even former ones.
4
Levi
The Stonevale SmallBiz Happy Hour is speed dating for people who’ve already dated. Or, whose parents went to prom together. My parents used to call it “networking,” but with free wine, it’s the kind of charming disaster Stonevale does best.
Dominic and I wait at the bar. He orders something needlessly complicated, while I stick to a safe red. In this town, you take the predictable route. Like passing by Mrs. Hensley’s bakery for the comfortable whiff of croissants you risk being served stale.
Dominic leans in, eyeing the crowd like a hawk. He’s always one cocktail away from half-heartedly setting someone up. He’s been forcing me to attend these events for years, insisting I “meet people,” as if I don’t already know everyone in town.
“I’m just saying, Levi,” Dominic smirks, “your dating life has the spice level of oatmeal. Live a little. Find someone who at least makes you want to check your phone obsessively.”
I snort. “Right, because nothing screams ‘healthy adult relationship’ like having your cortisol levels tied to someone else’s typing bubbles.”
“At least it’s interesting.” He sips. “Proud of you for chasing after a little unpredictability.”
I sigh, glancing around the room. A blur of familiar faces. Everyone’s got a story, a reputation, and that’s part of the problem. My love life is starting to feel like reruns of a sitcom that got canceled for being too bland, then picked up again in syndication just to spite me.
“I’m not chasing unpredictability, Dom,” I say, tracing the rim of my glass. “I just want somethingreal.”
I wasn’t expecting to say that out loud. It feels like an admission, like I’m confessing something I’ve been too scared to fully accept. But lately, it’s the truth that keeps hitting me over and over. I’m tired of the one-night stands, the random hookups that leave me feeling empty at the end of the night. I want more.Morethan what I’ve been getting. But it’s hard to figure out where thatmoremight come from. Damn, listen to me. A florist praying for perennials and wondering why annuals keep wrecking my plans.
Dominic doesn’t miss a beat. “You don’t find a husband at a two-dollar-beer happy hour, Levi,” he says with a grimace, appalled. “You find a good time, cheap booze, and maybe a pretty face to help you forget anything and everything.”
“Is that so?”
He takes a sip of his cocktail. “…or to ride.”
I wince. “Someone’s feeling exceptionally helpful.”
He grins, like he’s just cracked the code to my entire existence. “You know I’m right. And would you look at that…speaking of pretty faces,” Dominic adds, leaning in a little too eagerly, “check out who’s making his way over here.”
I follow his gaze, already aware of Ezra walking over.
“Great,” I mutter.
Dominic raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got that look on your face. The ‘I’m about to do something terrible, but it’ll make great brunch gossip’ look.”
