I didn’t know what I expected when I rounded the corner into the workspace. Luke maybe. Jett perhaps. But not Kash Bennet, sitting at a worktable, stuffing buds into plastic water tubes. They were so small, so delicate and feminine in his massive hands, and he handled them with gentle care and attention, as if they were precious. Considering he’d grown them from seeds, I supposed they were precious to him in a way they weren’t to anyone else.

Kash glanced up with a crooked smile that immediately faded upon seeing the state I was in. His brows snapped together, and he was on his feet in a flash of motion.

“Lila? What happened?” He moved for a rack stacked with supplies, whipping a white towel and a flannel blanket off a nearby shelf before striding toward me.

“This is just the day I’m having,” I said lightly, hands up in display, smart smile on my lips so I didn’t cry.

He handed me the towel, tossed the flannel on the table, and stepped behind me. “Here, let’s get you out of this.” First, he took my bag, which he placed on the table as I dried my hair. Then, his hands closed over my lapels and slid them over the curve of my shoulders.

I stilled but for the tremors of cold, tossing the towel onto the table. Down my arms the coat slid. Instantly, I felt the heat of him behind me and resisted the urge to lean back into him, desperately craving that warmth from the depths of my icy bones. When he stepped away, cold overtook me, my clothes damp and cool to the touch as I curled my shoulders and folded my arms, cupping them to retain as much warmth as possible.

Teeth clicking, I dropped onto a stool and tried to regain composure. I forced myself to sit up straight, dropping my hands to my lap. My eyes found Kash hanging my coat, spreading it over two hooks and shaking it open as best he could so it could dry. When he turned, he looked even more concerned.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the flannel. “You’re freezing.”

He unfurled it as he walked toward me and wrapped the blanket around me.

“Th-thank you,” I said once the flannel was in my grip.

As his hands retreated, they lingered on my shoulders, testing the curve with his palm, then the span of my upper arms before falling away.

“I’m sorry your day was shitty.”

“That’s just status quo these days.” I clutched the flannel, grateful for it.

“You need a win.”

I huffed a laugh. “I need a win so bad, Kash.”

“You drink tea?” he asked, his eyes dark as he looked me over.