Page 19 of Say My Name

Good luck with that, but here’s his number all the same. And don’t think you’re getting out of sharing the specific details with me. I know you glossed. Let’s get lunch tomorrow!

Instead of replying—and staving off that interrogation—I open a new text chat.

Any chance you’d forget about what you just saw?

It takes a few minutes for a response to come through, but when it does, I’m grinning my head off.

Not a chance. It’s ingrained in my memory forever now.

Are you sure? I could make a pretty tempting offer to help your memory slip a little bit.

How tempting are we talking?

I make some really good chocolate chip cookies if you’re interested.

A dozen and I’ll consider it.

Done.

I dance all the way to my bathroom to shower.

I’ve got some cookies to make in the morning.

CHAPTER 7

Warrick

Sundays tend to be hit or miss at the nursery. We’re either so busy we’re running around like chickens with our heads cut off, or we’re so bored our social media feeds get a thorough scrolling.

Today’s the latter. My checklist for the spring growing season is complete, and I’ve already done enough housekeeping around the greenhouses that my team is trying to shove me out the door.

The only thing for me to do is doomscroll TikTok or overthink about the date with Chip last night, and TikTok isn’t doing anything for me today.

Watching Chip dance in her living room after the door closed behind her was cute as hell, and the kiss that I didn’t expect about blew my scalp right off the top of my head.

I knew there was some chemistry there, but I had no idea that a kiss could be that good.

Stacks of paper, more dust than is safe for a closed room, and an industrial-sized trash can wait for me in the office. I wanted to wait for Chip to arrive to get started, but I don’t know what time she was planning on swinging by, and there’s no time like the present to try to bring some order to my life.

“Hey, War. There’s a lady at the front for you.”

I turn right back around, abandoning all hope where the office from hell is concerned and head toward the checkout area of the main house.

Her flaming hair is tied back in a messy bun, leaving the line of her throat exposed. A cozy sweater that looks soft as fuck leaves a shoulder bare, and every inch of her curves are on display in a tight pair of yoga pants.

“Hey, Imp,” I say when I muster up enough spit in my mouth to speak.

“Hey, War.” She holds out a bakery-style box, and I walk forward to take it from her. The smell of sugar and chocolate wafts up to my nose, and the bottom of the box holds a lingering warmth.

“Are these fresh out of the oven?”

She nods and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Pulled ’em out, boxed ’em, and figured I could get over here to get started.”

“Sounds good. Follow me.” I turn around and skirt back through the house to the room of doom.

“How do you want to do this?” I ask once we’re both standing in front of the open door.

“The first thing we need to do is purge. Which means going through all of the documents and filing or shredding them. After that, we can figure out a method for the rest of it.”

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