Page 12 of Only Ever His

She nodded slowly, offering a faint, grateful smile.

Still, I could still see the tension in her eyes, a guardedness that told me she wasn’t ready to let anyone in yet—not even me.

And that was fine; I respected that.

“It’s… flattering, you know,” she said after a pause, her eyes searching mine. “That you’re here, I mean.”

She looked down, fidgeting with her napkin again, her voice barely audible as she continued, “But I’m… not sure if I’m ready for anything beyond a professional relationship right now.”

The words hit like a cold splash of water, but I nodded, forcing myself to stay composed.

I knew this wasn’t about me—it was about the pain she carried. If it took time, I’d wait. She was worth it.

“I understand,” I replied, my voice steady, reassuring. “We can keep things professional. No pressure, no expectations. Just… two people sharing lunch.”

She gave me a skeptical look, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sure, Mr. Professional,” she said.

We both laughed, but I could sense her wariness behind it, a hesitation that told me how deeply guarded she still was.

And it only made me want to protect her more, to show her that with me, she could feel safe.

“So tell me, Tori,” I said, changing the subject as I leaned forward, my hand brushing lightly across hers as I reached for my drink, “what’s your favorite part about owning a boutique?”

She looked down at our hands, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she pulled her hand back.

“It’s a dream come true, honestly,” she admitted, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “I love curating everything, helping people find something that makes them feel special. It’s… personal. A piece of me in every item I choose for the store.”

Her passion was infectious, and I found myself captivated by the way she spoke about her work.

The way her eyes sparkled as she described the little things that brought her joy.

I listened intently, nodding along.

When she spoke of her store, it was as if the walls around her heart crumbled, even if only a little.

Time slipped away, and by the end of the lunch, I realized I was hooked, even more than I’d thought.

Tori was smart, resilient, and so much more than the shadows in her past.

I wanted her to feel that, to know she could let herself feel again.

As we walked back to her boutique, I felt an urge to reach out, to brush a hand down her arm, to let her know I was here.

But I held back, knowing she needed space.

When we reached the door, she hesitated, turning to look at me with a soft, unreadable expression.

“Thank you for lunch,” she said quietly. “It was… nice.”

Her words were simple, but I could sense the layers of meaning in them.

She was grateful, yes, but there was something deeper, a note of hope laced with hesitation.

“The pleasure was all mine,” I replied, smiling down at her. “Whenever you’re ready for round three, you know where to find me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

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