Page 80 of Knot in Bloom
The restraint he’s showing, the way he’s putting my reputation before his desire—it makes my chest tight with appreciation alongside the frustration.
“That was...” I start, then realize I don’t have words.
“Perfect.” His voice is still rough.
The walkback to my shop passes in a haze of awareness and anticipation. Every step brings us closer to whatever comes next, and by the time we reach my door, I can barely think straight.
“I should probably let you get back to work,” Reid says, but he makes no move to leave. Instead, he steps closer, backing me gently against my shop door.
“Probably.” Then I pull him down for another soft kiss that proves neither of us has any intention of being sensible.
When we finally separate, the sun is starting to sink toward the mountains, painting everything in golden light that makes his eyes look like jewels.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” His voice is rough with want.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He presses one last soft kiss to my forehead. “Good night, Sadie.”
As I watch him walk away, his expensive clothes and confident stride somehow perfectly at home on our small-town street, I realize how much my life has changed in the past three weeks.
Chapter 22
Reid
Monday afternoon, and my hotel room looks like a florist’s fever dream.
Two weeks of official Tuesday arrangements sit accusingly on the nightstand—week one’s roses reduced to skeletal stems, last Tuesday’s chrysanthemums hanging their heads in defeat. But that’s not all. Scattered across every other surface are the flowers I couldn’t resist buying on random visits.
A small bouquet of sunflowers from when I needed “something cheerful for a client presentation,” white lilies I claimed were for “a sympathy arrangement,” purple irises I said were “a thank you to a client.” All of them wilting now, all of them purchased for imaginary reasons because I couldn’t admit I just wanted to keep talking to her.
I’ve spent thousands of dollars on flowers I don’t need for business meetings that don’t exist, all because I couldn’t figure out how to tell Sadie Quinn that I was falling in love with her.
The knock at my door interrupts my self-recrimination. When I open it, Caleb and Levi stand in the hallway, both looking like men with serious business to discuss.
“We need to talk,” Caleb says.
I step aside to let them in, acutely aware of the floral disaster surrounding us. To their credit, neither man comments immediately on the fact that my hotel room looks like a botanical garden that’s seen better days.
“Coffee?” I offer, though what I really want is something stronger.
“I’m good,” Levi says, settling into the room’s single armchair. His eyes take in the dying arrangements with careful curiosity. “Interesting decorating choices.”
The innocent observation makes heat creep up my neck. “Work requirements.”
“Right.” Caleb’s tone suggests he finds my explanation about as convincing as I do. “Look, we’re not here to interrogate your interior design. We’re here because we all want the same thing.”
“Sadie,” I say simply.
“Sadie,” he confirms. “And a life with her that actually makes sense. Which means we need to start making decisions like the pack we’re becoming instead of three guys stumbling around trying not to step on each other. About the house. About us. About what happens next.”
“What house?”
“The cottage on Willow Creek Road,” Caleb explains. “I took Sadie to see it last week. She fell in love with it—talked about all of us living there together, the garden space, the built-in nesting room upstairs.”
My chest tightens with something that might be hope. “She could see all of us there?”
“She could see all of us there,” Levi confirms. “Said it could be perfect.”
