No lie—posting pictures of a hot guy with pretty flowers made for a whole lotta Instagram love.

When girls started coming into the shop looking for him, I tried to tell myself I didn’t want to drown them all in the farmhouse sink. Judy had placed an order a day for weeks, and Luke would send Jett every time. But that had nothing to do with me other than the fact that we were busy with work. Luke wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my anything.

Oh, the lies I told myself.

That night, we’d just locked up the shop, waving at passersby who had stopped to stare in the window with a gesture to the sign—New installment, 8a. Blanche’s donuts and coffee! And then we drew the elegant curtains we’d hung last week and started hauling supplies from the back.

Luke moved the last frames off the flat cart and stretched his back, arms over his head. His shirt crept up, showing a sliver of his abs. I knew every ridge of those abs so well, I could draw a map of them in the dark. My bottom lip made its way into my mouth as I watched him openly and without a stitch of shame. And why should I feel ashamed when Luke took every opportunity to grope, squeeze, caress, or put his lips on me?

Seriously, I had no idea how we hadn’t been found out yet. Not officially at least. I had a feeling all the Bennets knew—with the exception of the matriarch—though no one had uttered a word. Well, except Ivy, who waddled out with her hand on the small of her back.

She had plenty to say on the subject of my fling that was feeling less and less like a fling by the day.

“I’ll go grab the last load, if you want to get started breaking the installment down,” he said, watching me watch him with a sideways smile on his handsome face.

“All right,” I answered with a flush of my cheeks.

Ivy watched us a little too closely. “See ya tomorrow, Luke.”

“Don’t pop yet, Ivy. We’ve got too much work to do to lose you.”

She snorted a laugh. “It’ll be like the old days—I’ll just have the baby out in the greenhouse and finish picking flowers for the day.”

His face wrinkled up. “Please don’t do that either.”

Ivy laughed, shaking her head. “Bye, Luke,” she said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He put his hands up and headed back into the shop.

The second he was out of earshot, she made a wicked face at me. “Have fun with your boyfriend tonight.”

I scoffed. “God, you are the worst, you know that? He’s not made out of boyfriend material, Ivy. He’s made out of charm and impulsivity.”

She shrugged. “He’s had girls coming in here for weeks to throw themselves at him, and he hasn’t taken a single one out.”

“How do you know?” I deflected against the ache in my chest that he might have done just that without my knowledge. “Maybe he goes out after he leaves here.”