“I know. I’m slick undercover like that.” That earned me a laugh, and I reached for the Maker’s, holding it up in display. “Care for a drink?”

With a nod, she smiled, lips together and corners curled. “It’s that first night all over again.”

“Except this time, I’m not drunk and I brought better whiskey. I want a do-over, Tess. You deserve one,” I added as I scooped ice and poured us drinks. “I told you I’d make it up to you. What better way than the closest thing to a time machine I could come up with?”

I handed her a drink, which she took with that small, sweet smile on her face. “To time machines.”

She held her glass out, and I tapped it with a clink.

“And second chances.”

Something flashed behind her eyes—a touch of worry, a hint of indecision. Appreciation, understanding.

We drank without clarifying what it meant.

I knew what I meant.

This—whatever this was—was different. I liked her. And not in that I was interested in a distant way like I normally was, with that detached admiration I typically felt for women.

I liked Tess. I liked her, not the idea of her, not as one admires art or a bouquet. But in how I craved her company. How I wanted to impress her. How I wanted to prove her wrong about me. It wouldn’t be easy. But I had a feeling it’d be the most satisfying thing I’d ever done, if I could pull it off.

The last time I’d felt this way, I’d ended up married. A shot of fear rushed through my chest at the thought. Because that had been a trainwreck.

But it was the closest thing I could compare it to. Tess had gotten my attention. And now, I couldn’t look away.

“You did good today, Tess,” I started, stretching my legs. “How many bouquets did you make?”

“Feels like a trillion,” she said on a laugh. “Pretty sure I’m going to have anxiety dreams about marigolds tonight.”

“Mom cried through half of dinner. I swear, I think she’s going to erect a statue of you in the middle of the shop as tribute.”

Tess blushed prettily. “I can’t believe that many people were lured in by window installations.”

“People shop with their eyes, right? And you gave them a visual feast. That window display is perfect. It helped that it was gorgeous out.”

“And that there was an event in Washington Square.”

“I was thinking we should always do the new displays on Sunday mornings, get the weekend crowd. Maybe we could even join forces with a couple of local places, like Blanche’s. Have a little coffee bar and pastries for the unveiling.”

She brightened. “I love that. Think we can get Blanche’s to partner up?”

“Oh, old Blanche can’t say no to me,” I said with a sidelong smile. “She’d sneak me donuts when I was little, made me swear I wouldn’t tell Mom. Officially, she’s known at my house by the name Meal Ruiner.”