I knew she was in there, I thought as I thumbed her chin, raising it so I could kiss her. And I counted myself fortunate for having been able to see it.

I only hoped I’d have the opportunity to see that side of her again.

She sighed when I broke away, her eyes opening lazily. “When can I see you again?”

“Whenever you want.”

A slow smile brushed her lips. “Tomorrow?”

I pulled her a little closer. “Whenever you want,” I whispered again and kissed that smile off her lips.

Another sigh when I ended the kiss to gather her shirt off the ground and help her into it. I stepped in front of her again to button her up, mourning every sliver of skin as it disappeared. She let me fasten those buttons in a satisfying act of submission, her arms threading around my waist as I reached the top.

“I…I’ve never really done this before,” she said with endearing timidity.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m a pro.”

“Are there rules?”

“Not really. It’s whatever you need it to be, and people don’t really…talk to each other. They just fumble around it until something happens. Or doesn’t happen for long enough to bail.”

A pause. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” I said on a laugh.

“There are really no rules? Not even like…unspoken things everyone is supposed to know?”

“Would you feel better if there were?”

“Maybe,” she answered with a smile.

“All right. Let’s start with frequency.”

“How about…never more than two days in a row.”

“And on the third day, we rest.”

She chuckled.

“Spending the night, on or off limits?”

“Hmm. Off. I think? Keeps things more…casual?”

“Okay,” I agreed without wanting to. “Dates?”

“Probably not. Flings don’t go on dates, do they?”

I shrugged. “Not usually.”

“All right, then. No dates.”

“Done. Feel better?”

“Much. And I’m suddenly glad you’re delivering the flowers for the wedding tomorrow,” she said with a wicked smile.

“Why? Already planning your smoke breaks?”

“Maybe one or two. I’ll get us a room at the venue.”

“With those fancy sheets?”

She nodded, lips together in a smile. “And fancy pillows and an actual mattress.”

“Sorry I got you all dirty,” I said, fingering the collar of her white shirt where it was smudged with grime from its pile on the greenhouse floor.

“Please, get me dirty anytime you want.” She stretched up on her tiptoes to press a swift kiss to my lips, then turned, tucking in her shirt.

I watched, greedy for every detail, every movement as she flipped one heel with her foot and slipped into it, then the other, her legs elongating, calves engaged to keep her upright in those shoes. She twisted her hair self-consciously, looking away.

“God, I must look a mess. Do I have makeup all over my face?”