Page 51 of Wallflower in Bloom

She needed more of him and pressed herself into the kiss. Just to sell the relationship. She grabbed at the thick, taut muscles of his chest, trying to get closer and closer.

He angled his head as he gripped her tighter, the kiss turning hungrier. Primal. His teeth scraped against her lips with bruising need, and she licked his lip hungrily.

His forehead met hers as he pulled his mouth away, breathing heavily. He released her and took one more kiss, gently nipping her bottom lip as he cradled her chin. He pulled back, his wolfish smile in place.

Violet was thrumming with need. Holy hell, he knew how to kiss.

“I’m going to run in, and get our dinner to go.” He pushed her hair back from her shoulders, setting her to rights. “You sit in the car, and we’ll go home, yeah?”

“Okay,” she whispered, trying to keep her wits about her. “Oh, wait.” She tugged him back and wiped her lipstick off his lips. He placed a quick kiss on the inside of her wrist.

Gosh, he was good with this fake dating stuff.

Moments later, Jack came out of the restaurant, bags in hand, and he stopped to take a selfie with a fan, giving them a kind word before he hustled to the car.

Violet was mortified. She’d had one job: to appear in public with him as a doting girlfriend, and she’d messed it all up.

Maybe it was time to think about being a forest witch; find a cottage somewhere, cultivate mushrooms, befriend squirrels, and ensure no one had to look at her.

They rode home in silence, and Violet slowly trudged up to unlock her cottage door.

He’d figure out she wasn’t the right partner for this.

He’d leave, and she’d miss him terribly. In the short time he’d been there, she’d already settled into being his roommate, having someone kind and warm to talk with over tea.

She just wanted to forget the day and start over in the morning. Time to cuddle up in bed.

Jack got out their to-go containers in the kitchen, and his eyes followed her to the staircase. “You don’t want any?”

“I’m gonna go to bed.”

“It’s only”—he peered at the clock—“eight o’clock.”

“Early day tomorrow,” she lied, not meeting his eyes. Violet started up the stairs, feeling like she’d failed everyone. Rose, Lily, Jack. Heck, even Shay.

She threw herself a fantastic pity party as she took off her new clothes.

Some Cinderella she turned out to be. She’d ruined the ball and made Prince Charming look like a dummy.

“I bet no one called Cinderella’s butt a piece of cheese,” she muttered to Wishbone, her small aloe plant on the bathroom counter, as she brushed her teeth.

She snuggled into her comfiest pajamas and finally, in the dark, let herself silently cry all the tears she’d yet to spill. Five minutes, twenty minutes, and an hour passed, and still, the tears came. Her lip never stopped trembling after a day of having everything she’d ever wanted and letting it slip through her fingers.

She tried to sleep, but as soon as she’d settle down, a flash from earlier would pop up, and she’d start crying again.

After her third nose blow, a soft knock sounded at her door.

“Violet, are you all right?” Jack asked.

Oh, shoot. She’d learned as a kid not to make a sound when she cried. Crying upset her dad so much that she’d learned to be silent. She’d gotten rusty after living alone for so long.

“No,” she said through a stopped-up nose. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“What did I tell you about that word?” he said with mock irritation behind the door. “Can I come in?” His melodious accent made any question sound like the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

“Sure.” She shoved her hair and sat up, embarrassed.

Jack opened the door and tentatively poked his upper body through, holding a teacup and saucer.

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