Page 53 of Wallflower in Bloom

He remembered how her mouth had tasted last night, how her curves had consumed him with wanting them outside the restaurant.

It took every ounce of willpower to keep from pulling her against him and kissing her right now. Kiss away any worries that she wasn’t good enough. That she needed to change.

But once he started, he wouldn’t want to stop at one kiss.

He had wanted to haul her against the nearest flat surface yesterday, and they’d been in public.

And she wasn’t a one-night stand to him.

They’d let themselves get carried away the night she fell in the pond. Since then, he’d come in his hand more times than he could count, picturing her breasts in her corset as her nipples pebbled.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in her bed. Only closed his eyes for a mere moment last night, but now here he was, warm and perfectly happy.

He could move, but where was the fun in that?

He so rarely had the opportunity to sleep next to someone. It was too hard to trust the never-ending list of women coming in and out of his life. But he trusted Violet, which was precisely why he needed to keep her at arm’s length.

For her own good.

So rather than ravaging her like he wanted, he closed his eyes and reveled in the lavender scent of her linens as he fell back asleep.

Hours later, the sun was up, and Jack woke up to Violet’s side of the bed neatly made.

Todd leapt up at that moment to let him know breakfast was approximately seven minutes late and, therefore, he should be beheaded immediately.

“I hear you. I hear you,” he muttered over the low meows.

God, what a day yesterday was. He’d been wiped from the unexpectedly hard manual labor on Gray’s farm in the morning and then gobsmacked by a vixen who haunted his thoughts the rest of the afternoon and evening.

And, on top of it all, dealt with the emotional quagmire of her conquering her fears with him in public.

This whole thing might have been a terrible idea.

He reached for his phone, willing his morning wood away. He’d had lucid dreams about what would have happened if he hadn’t been a gentleman last night. It all came crashing down when he saw Shay’s text.

PR Goddess

Luck is on your side, Grant. First photo posted today, and the internet is all abuzz and happy.

The first photos from their session had been posted to his social account, which Shay’s people managed. A clever non-apology apology had been issued, along with photos of him and Violet looking absolutely smitten with each other.

Shit. It was out to the world. He knew exactly who he needed to call next.

He punched in the familiar number as he walked downstairs, herded by Todd toward his breakfast bowl.

“Dad, hi,” he shouted. His father wouldn’t admit he was losing his hearing.

“Well, ’ello there, stranger,” his father exclaimed, breathless.

“Woah. Are you all right?” His father had developed health problems and had to retire early as a plumber, despite only being in his early 60s. He’d had a hard life, and Jack wanted to take care of him now so he could rest easy. Jack had tried to convince him to move to Vancouver, but they both knew Jack would ultimately go wherever the work was.

“Ach, I’m fine. You worry too much. Haulin’ some gravel to the garden, and you s’prised me.” The pitter-patter of his dad’s thick West Country accent felt like a hug he didn’t know he needed.

“Wut are you up to this afternoon?” his dad asked.

“I’m in America, visitin’ a friend.” He felt his own accent grow thicker in talking to him. “Da, I wanted to tell you about a thing you might see—”

“Oi, I saw all the hubbub, but tha’ fella was a right tosser. He ‘ad it coming.”

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