Page 39 of Wallflower in Bloom

Violet is sensitive and sweet. Don’t bully her.

PR Goddess

God, you really must be dating.

Don’t worry. I’ll be her doting Fairy Shay-mother.

He put his phone on the counter. “Shay can’t wait.”

Violet was quiet and nodded in thought. “I should have asked before you texted her.” Her brows were drawn together nervously.

His stomach dropped. Fuck, he was so close to having everything he wanted. A way to mend his reputation with the network and an excuse to touch Violet. But he wouldn’t do anything if she was uncomfortable. “I can text her if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I—” She paused. “What can I do to make it believable?”

Believable? He smiled through his confusion. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a date before?”

Violet looked like a cartoon baby owl staring at him through her wide lashes. He had a crazy urge to pull her into his arms and keep her safe.

“I want people to believe you’d be….” She cleared her throat, looking anywhere but right at him. She spoke into her teacup, “...with someone like me.”

She gulped her tea and set the teacup and saucer down harder than expected, her hands shaking.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His hands came to her arms, wanting to steady her. Something was deeply bothering her. “What do you mean someone like you? A redhead?”

“I mean, someone…you know what I mean,” she whispered, her lip trembling. “Someone like me—you wouldn’t be seen with me. I’m not your type.”

His hands fell, realizing a more meaningful, serious conversation was needed. “What do you mean ‘not my type?’”

“Jack, look at me.”

“Yeah, I have. I saw a lot of you earlier.” There was that pretty pink blush back on her cheeks.

“I’m not a Hollywood model.”

Ah. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about that, given his rabid attraction to her. “Let me be clear.” He leaned forward over her, his hand falling on the oven hood and neatly boxing her into the kitchen corner. “I have dated women of all sizes and find them all equally sexy in their own way.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Her brow was still wrinkled with anxiety, nervous she wasn’t good enough.

Frustration furrowed his brow.

She had to know. Had to know how much he’d want someone like her.

“I can prove it,” he rumbled.

Her mouth fell into a tiny ‘O’ shape. He shoved his hand in his pocket to keep it from tracing her full lower lip.

Her eyes held his, those large emerald gems he wanted to sink into, and her voice was barely a whisper. “How would you prove it?”

Not so innocent after all.

Fuck all his promises of good behavior. He wanted her. Wanted to show her how wrong she was.

There was a reason he’d gotten a playboy reputation.

He’d earned it.

He stepped into her space, leaning down to her ear. His voice was barely a whisper with serious urgency. “Because, Violet, I have a locked folder on my phone with all my deepest, darkest fantasies, and a lot of them look

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