Page 25 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

A beat passed.

Then she reached for my hand.

Her fingers were cold, calloused, familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

We slipped into the back room, where the music was quieter and the chaos didn’t reach.

She leaned against the prep table and took a breath.

“I don’t need rescuing,” she said, voice low and steady. “I’ve never wanted someone to fix my messes for me.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“But,” she added, “thank you for not making me face it alone.”

I stepped closer.

Close enough to smell the faintest trace of her shampoo, to see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, to watch her mouth as it curved around the word thank you.

“You never have to be alone again,” I said. “Not if you don’t want to be.”

Her breath caught. Her lips parted like she might say something—or maybe kiss me.

Then Hazel shouted from the front of the store, “Someone just donated thirty orchids! They’re stunning and completely unplanned!”

Ruby let out a breath that was half laugh, half sigh. The spell broke, but not completely.

We both stood still, suspended in a moment that wasn’t quite finished.

She looked at me, voice barely above a whisper. “What are we doing, Damien?”

I reached for her hand again, curling her fingers into mine.

“Something I don’t want to undo.”

Chapter seven

Ruby

Sunlight spilled across the front counter of Ruby Bloom, warming the floorboards and setting the display window aglow like it had missed the spotlight.

The shop still smelled faintly of plaster dust and lemon oil, but the flowers were back in place—fresh, vibrant, stubbornly blooming like they had something to prove.

Kind of like me.

I stood in the center of the nearly restored space, brushing my fingers along the edge of a bouquet I hadn’t planned but couldn’t resist arranging: creamy white peonies nestled beside wild thistle and soft sprigs of eucalyptus. It wasn’t flashy. Just... sincere.

The same kind Damien had helped me design when he wasn't barking orders like a bossy field general with a clipboard.

I smiled, but it slipped as fast as it came.

My fingers lingered on a petal.

“Why did he have to be so...” I whispered, shaking my head, “good at fixing things?”

“Still talking about flower arrangements?” Hazel’s voice floated in from behind.

I jumped slightly as she walked through the front door holding two coffees and a bag that suspiciously smelled like cinnamon rolls.

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