I made a face. Tess looked like someone had a rifle pointed at her.

“The, ah, rake broke. Just needed to grab a new one.”

Tess swallowed hard and put the most ridiculous smile on her face I’d ever seen. “Thanks, Mr. B!” she said with an awkward wave before bolting past him and into the greenhouse.

He and I shared a look.

“I don’t think she’s ever called me that before. Any idea what she thanked me for?”

“Not a clue,” I answered with a triumphant smirk. “But a word of advice: when it comes to Tess, take what you can get.”

12

Curiosity Kills

TESS

The bell over the door did not stop ringing all day.

Ivy and I were slammed in the back. We had run out of our prepared bouquets within an hour. Twelve orders for bouquet deliveries had hit us before lunch. Jett had been called in to run the counter. Kash had been tasked with cutting flowers and carting them up to us. And Luke had been in and out with deliveries nonstop.

Seeing him sent a simultaneous thrill and worry through me. Today had not gone as planned—not only had I not clarified last night’s intentions, but I’d kissed him and agreed to see him tonight.

His lips were apparently the antidote to my willpower. And they were as convincing as a politician on the campaign trail. He’d asked me point-blank if I wanted to see him again, and the honest answer was yes, even though I shouldn’t want to.

I’d tell him tonight. I’d meet him and tell him that was it. Simple, so long as I could avoid kissing him again.

Kash set two massive buckets—one of cosmos in shades of purple, pink, burgundy, white. The other was full of roses—delicate peach eglantines, buttery crown princess, vibrant colettes.

“Can you grab us some more snapdragons?” I asked, not looking up from my hands as I tied another bouquet bundle.

“Madame butterfly or chantilly?”

“Chantilly. Oh, and some celosia. Yellow, red, and pink, please.”

“You got it,” he said amiably before heading back to the greenhouse.

The brown paper crinkled as I wrapped the bouquet and gathered up the dozen I’d made, three sets of monochromatic bouquets in four colors—peach, yellow, white, and cotton-candy pink. I giggled over the top of them at Ivy.

“Ridiculous!” she said on a laugh, her hands flying over the arrangement she was working on for delivery.

I hurried to the front. The storefront was busier than I’d ever seen it, even in its heyday. Mrs. Bennet saw me coming and excused herself from the customer she was talking to.

“Here, let me help you, Tess. My, these are just beautiful,” she said, her voice sweet and touched with awe. “You are an artist, my dear.”

“I learned everything I know from you.”

She blushed, tittering. “The bunny tails in these bouquets! I never would have thought.”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” I deflected. “They just happened to be what was in reach. We might clean out the greenhouse today.”