Now, as he studied her storefront from the quiet sidewalk that would soon bustle with tourists, he could only hope he wasn’t too late.

At nine o’clock on the dot, Abby appeared at the front door and turned the Closed sign to Open.

Watching her, Grant stood up a little straighter and waited for her to notice him there. But she turned away and went back into the store, leaving him standing there like a lovesick fool hoping the girl he favored would grace him with a glance.

He’d have to go in. For some reason, that frightened him. He’d pictured this playing out differently. She’d see him out there on the sidewalk, her eyes would widen, and she’d burst through the door to throw herself into his arms.

“It’s not a movie, you asshole,” he muttered to himself. For a guy who fancied himself rather good with words, he had no idea what he planned to say to her. All he knew was he had to say something to stop her from marrying the wrong man.

Steeling himself for whatever reaction she might have to his sudden reappearance, he cleared his throat, ran unsteady fingers through his hair and pushed open the door. Jingling bells announced his presence.

“Be right with you,” she called from the back room.

Grant was hit right away with her favorite scents—lavender and sage and a hint of vanilla—and a memory of their years in LA when he arrived home each night to one of her favorite scents coming from the candle of the day. God, why hadn’t he married her when he’d had the chance? When she’d been living in his house, their two lives entirely entwined? He’d made the mistake then of assuming nothing could ever come between them. He’d made the monumental mistake of putting his ambition ahead of her.

The store was cluttered and cozy and practical, just like the woman who owned it. As he waited for her, Grant’s heart hammered in his chest, and his palms were suddenly damp.

“Hi there,” Abby said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Grant looked up and their eyes met.

Her big brown eyes got even bigger, and she sucked in a sharp deep breath when she saw him. “Grant.”

“Hi, Abs.” Her shiny dark hair had gotten long in the year since he’d last seen her, and as he contemplated the mouth that had fueled his fantasies for as long as he could remember, Grant realized he’d played this all wrong. He never should’ve given her a year to ponder life without him, and he feared he’d regret that for the rest of his days if he couldn’t convince her to give him one more chance.