The gesture took her aback. “No, it’s very . . . sweet.” The petals were satin smooth, the stems and leaves clean and groomed. She wondered where he’d gotten them. And when; they’d been together most of the day. “Daisies are my favorite.”

“I know.”

Kate was sure she hadn’t mentioned it on their honeymoon. Even Bryan had always sent orchids for special occasions just because they were most expensive.

Lucas gestured toward the flowers. “You always have them on your desk at work.”

She stopped at Flowers on Chestnut for a fresh bouquet every Monday morning after getting her latte. Having fresh daisies perked up the office and inspired her. Strange that he’d noticed. She remembered the daisies he’d etched on the gazebo. She’d thought it a coincidence.

“Well, thank you,” she said. “I’ll set them on the kitchen table between the salt and pepper shakers.”

“I’ll do it.”

As he returned, Kate yawned. It was getting late, and there was no delaying bedtime. Besides, if she hoped to be asleep when Lucas retired, she needed an early start.

“I think I’ll turn in now,” she said.

Lucas sank into the recliner and flipped on the TV. Bo curled up at his feet. “’Night. Let me know if you need anything.”

Kate stood awkwardly for a moment, but it looked as if Lucas was engrossed in what he was watching. Well, okay then.

After completing her beauty regimen and brushing and flossing, Kate changed into her pajamas. She surveyed the bed and felt something cold wedge between her ribs.

I can do this. I can. No big deal. She snorted at the thought. Yeah, right. I’m about to climb into the bed of a man I barely know. And he’s going to climb in later.

Her eyes fell on a worn quilt crumpled between the bed and wall. She retrieved it, spread it across the bed, then rolled it like a giant burrito. Next, she laid it down the center of the bed as a barrier between the two sides. There, that should do it.

Kate clicked off Lucas’s lamp and rounded the bed, settling on her side. The sheets were soft and cool against her skin, the mattress giving slightly to her weight.

She turned her face into the pillow and immediately regretted it. It smelled faintly of Lucas, all musk and woodsy. Even here, she couldn’t escape him.

She thought of the daisies and chided herself for thinking ill of him. He was trying. It wasn’t his fault they were so different. Or even that they were stuck together for a year. In fact, he’d saved her life, and she should be grateful. He’d salvaged her book and her career.