And not one thing had changed.

2

Poison Ivy

TESS

Everyone hates parts of their job.

Maybe it’s the paperwork. Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.

But not me. I loved every corner of that store, every flower, every petal, every stem. I loved the greenhouse. I loved Mrs. Bennet. I loved creating, and I loved making something beautiful.

I didn’t hate anything at all.

Except for Luke Fucking Bennet.

There were many adjectives to describe how I felt in that moment. Furious was paramount, followed closely by defensive and bewildered, touched with a hint of unease and a healthy helping of attraction, which was a noun, but also an undeniable fact between Luke and me.

He lit up like a lighthouse when he saw his mother, pulling her into a hug with arms like tree trunks. She squealed like a girl when he picked her up and spun her around wildly.

Wild. That was perhaps the best adjective to describe him. His hair, dark as sin, disheveled and untamed. His eyes, crisp and bright, a shade of blue so electric, so luminescent, it defied logic. Golden skin, kissed by the California sun that had shone on him the last five years. His smile told a tale of lust, loose and easy, given without thought or care. And though he didn’t have the discipline of a predator, his body moved with the ease and grace of a great black cat.

His lips said he’d come home to help save the shop, but his history said otherwise. I’d believe he ran out of money. Or that he was running from Wendy Westham, their marriage come unraveled, just like we’d all known it would. I’d believe just about anything beyond altruism.

Luke Bennet had come home to wreck everything he touched, just like he always did. And the saddest thing? He didn’t even have a clue. Not one.

He was feral, a thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. He went where he wanted, did what he chose. Never, not in a million years, would he be called responsible or dependable. And he hadn’t changed a bit in five years, but for the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

Should have worn sunscreen. Irresponsible asshole.

My teeth ground together with a squeak, and my eyes followed my hands as I snip, snip, snipped stems, imagining they were Luke’s neck.

I realized I sounded like the insufferable one, like he’d said. But ten years of being ignored by Luke Bennet would do that to a girl.

Maybe ignored was the wrong word. Forgotten. Rejected. Disregarded.

Because Luke didn’t ignore anybody. In fact, he had a knack for making every person he came across feel special and important to him. As such, every girl in a thirty-block radius—including yours truly—had, at some point, had a massive crush on the handsome, cavalier charmer. Regardless of the fact that he systematically snakebit every woman he came across and exploited every little crush to the fullest extent.