Page 3 of Accidentally in Bloom

His storm-green eyes pierced her from where he stood, and his square jaw was dotted with a shadow of stubble. Strands of his dark hair caught in the breeze, and she stupidly envied it for being able to run its fingers through his hair.

Had he walked off an Armani photoshoot, hopped on a vintage bike, and decided to come rescue her?

“Hi? Do you need help?” The smiling hot rider spoke loudly and waved at her, trying to get her attention.

Oh my god. I’ve been internal monologuing this whole time.

“Yes, sorry. I was…distracted.” And probably drooling.

He hopped off the bike and removed a backpack. As he swung it around, Rose realized there was a dog in his backpack. A small, floppy-eared hound mix sat patiently in the bag with goggles on.

A hot man on a bike.

With a dog.

Wearing goggles.

Rose wiped at her eyes to double-check she wasn’t hallucinating.

The rider set the bag down, and the dog hopped out. “No, don’t bother the cows. Go over there,” he muttered to the dog.

Hot Biker Dog Dad grabbed the goggles from the dog’s head and pointed at the opposite field.

Rose watched the dog hop the ditch. “Was he...was he wearing goggles?”

“Doggles, actually.” The rider walked toward her. Delicate line tattoos ran the length of his hands and disappeared into the cuffs of his leather jacket.

She rolled her lips together and tried to stay focused.

He stopped in front of her and peered up with a charming smile. “That’s a funny way to drive a car. What seems to be the problem?”

You’re probably married?

“The car started smoking, so I pulled over. I couldn’t get a cell signal to call for help.”

He chuckled, and his eyes danced with laughter. She wanted to permanently take up residence in the moment where he looked at her like that.

“That totally explains why you’re on the roof, then. Here.” He raised his arms, his hands on either side of her knees.

“What are you doing?”

“You gonna drive your car from the roof?” He dropped his arms and cocked his hip to one side, smiling at her. Rose felt her cheeks flush and goose bumps slide along the back of her neck at his smile.

“I can get down on my own, thank you.”

Probably.

He bit his lower lip, and she swore she saw the faint glimmer of a laugh as his eyebrows raised.

Rose doubled down and shoved at her hair. “I can. I’m very strong; never miss a Pilates class.” She was babbling, she knew, but she had to maintain control of the situation.

“Sit-ups or no sit-ups, four-inch spikes,” he gestured to her heels, “and windshields don’t mix. But please, show me how wrong I am.” He crossed his arms and watched her with a smile.

She ran her tongue across her teeth and considered the dust-covered roof.

These are new jeans, damn.

Rose huffed out annoyance and bent down so her bottom hovered over the roof.

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