“You destroyed me first,” Truman accused matter-of-factly, burying his face into Ash’s shoulder. Ash’s arm came around him and pulled him close. Truman kissed the skin in front of his mouth until Ash stroked his head.

“Damn. Okay.”

Ash sounded conclusive.

“What?”

“Well, just, I’d been wondering what it would be like. And it was so much better,” he said reluctantly.

“You’re a big nerd,” Truman murmured.

“Yeah.”

They lay entwined, and Ash’s warm palm stroking up and down his spine lulled Truman closer and closer to sleep.

“Maybe this is the solution to your fashion problem,” Ash muttered just as Truman was drifting off.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to wear any clothes. Maybe you’re just meant to be naked all the time.”

Truman grinned with delight. “Yeah, I think you solved it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ash congratulated himself sleepily. “Solved it.”

Then he gave Truman a pat on the ass and dragged him even closer.

Chapter 20

Truman

“I have an idea,” Truman said into Ash’s shoulder.

Still half-asleep, Ash made a sound of lustful assent and slid his hand down Truman’s spine.

“No, no, a business idea.”

Ash squeezed his ass.

“A flower shop business idea.”

Sleepy blue-gray eyes blinked open and focused on Truman.

“Hey,” Ash said.

Truman watched as delight, then surprise, then hope crossed Ash’s face. How had he never noticed how expressive Ash’s face was before?

“Hi.” Truman brushed Ash’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “So I have an idea,” he went on.

Ash schooled his features into a listening expression, but his fingers still explored Truman’s skin like he was convincing himself Truman was real.

“Okay, so, you know how everyone gets those ugly red plants for Christmas?”

“Poinsettias,” Ash said absently.

“Right. What if you gave them another option? What if you ran a special on red roses for Christmas—er, I’m assuming most people on the island celebrate Christmas? Just because…it’s very…homogenous.”

“Right,” Ash confirmed. “Greta’s family is Jewish, and the Pivens practice Buddhism, but they still come to all the Christmas things in town.”

“Okay, so, red roses with greenery—still red and green—and we could find some kind of Christmassy name to call the bouquets, and then you put a big picture of one in the window with a sign that says, like, ‘Tired of having the same poinsettias every year? This Christmas, try roses!’ Or something like that.”

Ash’s brow was furrowed but he was nodding. “I’d need to start small, because I don’t have the cash for a big outlay right away.”

“Yeah, start with a few people, then you imagine they’ll tell their friends.”

“The thing about poinsettias is they last all month. Roses only last four days. Five at most.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I like the idea, Truman. Really.”

Ash stroked his cheek.