Page 47 of Wallflower in Bloom

“You sure?” He glanced down with worry. “Cobblestones are probably a nightmare in those shoes.”

Fair enough. She held his arm as they walked to the back door. She wasn’t great in heels since she practically lived in her old Converse sneakers. She hated how eyes were drawn to her when she wobbled in heels, but today she had on armor. She was with a cute guy, wearing an outfit that looked amazing. The pins had held up surprisingly well from Shay’s work earlier.

He opened the back door for her. “I was thinking Vichetti’s?”

“That’s as fancy as Fairwick Falls gets.” She grinned back at him through her nerves, eager to get today over with. She grabbed the shell-shaped clutch Shay had picked out for her.

And just then, she realized she needed to pee.

Badly.

She looked down at her skirt and realized she should have stopped drinking liquids hours ago. Getting her tight pencil skirt pinned back the right way would be impossible.

She chewed on her lips. So embarrassing.

“What’s wrong?”

It’s not like they were really dating, right? She could just be herself. “I have to pee, but these pins have me trapped.”

“I’m excellent at undoing ladies’ skirts.” He winked. “May I?” He leaned down to look at the back of her skirt with four safety pins locking the waist in place.

“Sure,” Violet said, trying for nonchalance.

This was totally normal, having a hot British man dig in the back of your skirt. He dipped his hands inside the back to unhook the hidden pins.

“Make sure to remember where they started,” she said. “I want to get it exactly right. Shay worked so hard on this.”

“Fear we might be here for the rest of the evening,” he mumbled, wrestling with the pins. “I’m trying to undo them but not have them fly everywhere. Can’t have my fake girlfriend arrive scratched and bloodied.”

The brush of his knuckles along her lower back and waist sent a shiver down her spine, and Violet found herself holding her breath.

Maybe if she made herself as small as possible, it would help. She sucked in her stomach. The skirt was tight, which made it harder to get under the pins.

“What are you doing?” He stood, grasping her skirt with one hand as his other rested on her waist. The heat of his hand was all she could think about. “You can breathe,” he said, voice low in her ear.

“I wanted to give you more room.”

“Violet,” he said in a demanding tone.

Oh no, another voice to add to the fantasy list. Violet squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing how much more she could handle of his sexiness.

“You are allowed to take up space. Go on. Let it out.”

She let out the breath she definitely knew she’d been holding.

She let her stomach muscles relax, and her belly pooch let go and filled out her skirt.

“Better,” he rumbled.

She wasn’t even sure what to say. Yes, she felt more comfortable, but it wasn’t familiar.

“All right, last little bastard is undone.” He unzipped the top of her skirt and rolled down the waistband so the pins wouldn’t scratch her skin.

He smoothed the fabric down, and his thumb lingered on her lower back, caressing it with a swipe that made her breath hitch again.

He had to notice that.

He gave her waist a friendly double tap, stepped back, and cleared his throat.

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