“Well … I had this dream to publish my own book on floristry. A sort of how-to, basics on flower design, that kind of thing. I’ve been making notes and outlines for years.”

“Why not pursue it?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. What if I fail?”

“You? Fail? Impossible.”

A chuckle. “I’ll do it someday.”

“Promise?”

She bumped me with her arm. “Promise.” She licked her ice cream. “Have you ever thought about contracting? You’ve been so good with our renovations, and you seem to really enjoy it.”

I paused, considering it. “I do. It’s the same as working in a shop in that every job is different. I would have kept helping out my buddy in California if something better hadn’t come along.”

We made it to the park, the arch proud and tall, the fountain bubbling. We stopped a ways off, taking in the sight.

“Do you always move on when something better comes along?” she asked quietly.

“Not always. When I commit, I go all in, Tess.”

Tess looked up at me, her eyes soft and heart open. “All in?”

I slipped my free hand around her waist, pulling her into me. “All fucking in.”

She reached for my face, and I granted her request, bending to press a kiss to her lips.

All in, all the way into my heart she found her way.

And I let her in without thinking twice.

Without thinking at all.

18

Fixer

TESS

There were few greater joys in life than watching Luke Bennet use power tools.

I’d walked out of my room to grab him and drag him to the shop for the meeting with the magazine editor. But watching him, all my plans—as well as my concept of time—fell out of my head like apples tumbling out of a sack.

He was up on a ladder, installing crown molding, his back rippling and sweating and dotted with sawdust. A pencil rested in the crook of his ear, his big, square hands holding a nail gun. His body jolted with every pop and hiss of the machine, his muscles flexing in sync as he braced for each nail.

A swooning sigh slid out of me, and for a second, I just stood there like a fool, watching him nail a board to a wall even though we were about to be late.

He reached for the corner, displaying his impressive wingspan, and popped the last nail into place before turning to climb down the ladder. He spotted me, smirking when he caught me gawking.

“I’d make a gun-show joke, but it feels too easy,” he said, hopping off the last step with a crinkle of the plastic tarp he’d laid out.

“You should have gone for it,” I said, smiling up at him as he approached. “Woulda worked on two levels.”

He stole a quick kiss. “Time to go?”

I nodded, my smile fading. “I don’t want to be late.”

“The shop’s ready. Everything’s going to be perfect—don’t worry.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”