Too bad for him, I had bite.
I was Boone’s sister. My mother’s daughter. I came from a long line of people who loved hard, stood tall, and treated others with kindness until they no longer deserved it.
“Well, I don’t particularly care what you want,” I said, turning back to the arrangement in front of me. “So if you could leave, I’ve got orders to fill.”
Miles let out a long breath, dragging a hand over his head, then down his face like he was already tired of trying.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “What happened that night, it wasn’t me. I’ve been under a lot of stress with the remodel and?—”
I held up a hand, shaking my head.
I didn’t want to hear it. Not excuses. Not from him. The anxiety still simmered under my skin, but I kept myself steady—drawing on every ounce of strength I could summon.
“I understand stress,” I said, my voice low but firm. “But it doesn’t excuse what you did. Or how you handled it. You should never put your hands on anyone, let alone a woman. It had nothing to do with the fact you were stressed but everything to do with me rejecting you.”
He flinched, only slightly, before narrowing his eyes. “You may not be ready to hear me out now, but you will.”
And just like that, I pulled a page from Mac’s playbook. I crossed my arms and stared, silent. Letting my glare speak for me.
We stood there in a tense standoff until the black swinging doors burst open behind me.
Sandy charged into the room, her floral perfume curling through the air as she stepped up beside me like a shield.
“I’m pretty sure I heard her tell you to leave,” she said, calm but firm. “This is my shop. Which means my rules. And I think you need to get out.”
Miles didn’t stand a chance.
With Sandy at my side without even knowing the full story, my throat grew tight. Tears threatened to rise, but I pushed them down, inhaling hard, forcing the dam to hold. Not now. Not here.
Miles curled his lip in frustration, gave a half-hearted wave in our direction, then turned on his heel. The front door slammed behind him as he stormed out of Petal Pusher.
Only once he disappeared down the sidewalk and into his own shop did I let go.
The tension drained from my limbs, shoulders sagging under the weight of the confidence I’d forced myself to wear.
A quiet beat passed. The only sound was the low twang of country music humming from the shop’s speakers.
Sandy’s hand brushed gently against my forearm.
“Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”
I shook my head.
“Not right now.”
Sandy nodded, her voice soft. “It’s almost closing time. What if you left early? I can finish up here.”
“I’m okay,” I told her. “Logan said he was coming by soon anyway. I’ll wait for him.”
She gave me a tight-lipped smile and a small nod before turning and disappearing through the swinging doors.
My heart nearlyjolted out of my chest at the sound of the bell above the door. But the second I looked up and saw Logan, and not someone unwanted, my body began to relax. I could finally breathe again.
Relief rushed in, warm and grounding, and for the first time in over an hour, a smile tugged at my lips.
Just seeing him slowed the world down.
“Close your eyes, Ace,” he said, grinning with something hidden behind his back.
