Page 70 of Love so Hot

"You brought me to the botanical gardens?"

"Alright, alright, enough teasing. Come on," I say, reaching for her hand, a gesture that feels surprisingly natural.

We walk through the wrought-iron gates, and I watch her, mesmerized by her reaction. She moves with that calm grace of hers, every so often stopping to touch a leaf or smell a flower, her green eyes wide as she takes in the vibrant tapestry of colors sprawling before us.

"Larry, I love this place," she says, her voice low. "How did you know?"

"Let's just say I pay attention," I reply with a shrug, though inside, my heart is pounding. Seeing her like this—happy, relaxed, in her element—stirs something within me that I didn't even know was there.

"Thank you," she whispers, turning to me with a smile that outshines even the most exotic of the flowers around us.

"Anytime," I say, smiling back. And I mean it. Anytime, for her.

We meander along a pebbled path lined with foxgloves and ferns, the air thick with the scent of jasmine. Willow's ahead, her hair catching flecks of sunlight that sneak through the leafy canopy above. She's pointing out a cluster of orchids, explaining their delicate symbiosis with specific insects.

"Isn't it incredible how they've evolved just to ensure those bugs pollinate them?" she says, her voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, nature's got some pretty slick tricks up its sleeve," I reply.

"Tricks?" She laughs, looking back at me, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'd call them evolutionary masterpieces."

"Right, masterpieces," I correct myself, earning another smile from her.

She leads me to a bed of wildflowers, and we crouch down together to watch a honeybee dance from bloom to bloom. It's quiet except for the distant hum of the nearby town. I should be there, in the middle of that chaos, but instead, I'm here with Willow, feeling an odd sense of peace.

"Hey, you're not checking your phone," she observes, sounding surprised.

I glance at my pocket where my phone is buzzing like a trapped wasp. "Nope, no need."

"Wow, Mr. Corporate Tycoon can survive without constant updates? Color me shocked."

"Turns out I can," I say. My mind momentarily whirs with the possible fallout from missing today's host of meetings. But then I see her, so vibrant and alive among the greenery, and I realize I don't care about the consequences.

"Come on," she says, standing and brushing dirt from her skirt. "There's a part of this garden that looks like something out of a fairytale."

"Lead the way," I tell her, switching off my phone without even a glance. The investors can wait. Whatever magic Willow wants to show me, I'm all in.

We're resting on a wooden bench, tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden. A canopy of intertwined branches above us filters the sunlight into gentle patterns on the ground. I take a deep breath, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders.

"So, what did you think of the guys yesterday?" I ask her.

"I met so many people, you'll have to be more specific," she says.

"Seb, Roman, Victor. They're not my brothers by blood, but they may as well be," I say. "We all grew up in the foster system." I lean back, tracing the grain of the wood with my finger. "We were all pretty tight."

"Sounds like you had your own little family," she says softly, her gaze lingering on a butterfly that flutters by.

"Sort of," I agree with a chuckle. "A band of misfits more like, but they're good people."

"Tell me about them," she prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, I know I met them, but sometimes people don't always show their true colors right away."

I nod. "I agree. Although, these guys are pretty 'what you see is what you get.' Roman's the wildcard, always jumping into things without thinking. You'd never be bored with him around." I shake my head at the memories. "Seb is always tinkering around with stuff, and his personality is a bit like that, too. And Victor, well, he's the steady one. Keeps us all grounded."

"Sounds like you depend on each other a lot."

"More than I realized," I admit. The admission feels strange, revealing parts of myself I usually keep locked away.

Willow nods, understanding flashing in her eyes. She opens her mouth as if to share something of her own, then hesitates. Instead, she picks at the hem of her skirt, looking away.

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