“You? A bank teller?”
“It was a little death, Tess. I could feel the years ticking off my life with every second on that big, ugly clock. They put it right in front of you—I assume so you can keep tabs on your mortality.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Listen, Ace—I’m pretty sure you could do anything you wanted to, what with being good at literally everything.”
“I just said I was a terrible bank teller.”
“I doubt you were bad at your job, just bad at staying at your job.”
“I think the Santa Monica Bank and Trust would disagree. How about you?” I asked. “Do you want to work at the shop forever?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’ve always wanted to be a permanent fixture at the shop, but …”
“But …” I prompted when she didn’t continue.
“Well … I had this dream to publish my own book on floristry. A sort of how-to, basics on flower design, that kind of thing. I’ve been making notes and outlines for years.”
“Why not pursue it?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. What if I fail?”
“You? Fail? Impossible.”
A chuckle. “I’ll do it someday.”
“Promise?”
She bumped me with her arm. “Promise.” She licked her ice cream. “Have you ever thought about contracting? You’ve been so good with our renovations, and you seem to really enjoy it.”
I paused, considering it. “I do. It’s the same as working in a shop in that every job is different. I would have kept helping out my buddy in California if something better hadn’t come along.”
We made it to the park, the arch proud and tall, the fountain bubbling. We stopped a ways off, taking in the sight.
“Do you always move on when something better comes along?” she asked quietly.
“Not always. When I commit, I go all in, Tess.”
Tess looked up at me, her eyes soft and heart open. “All in?”
I slipped my free hand around her waist, pulling her into me. “All fucking in.”
She reached for my face, and I granted her request, bending to press a kiss to her lips.
All in, all the way into my heart she found her way.
And I let her in without thinking twice.
Without thinking at all.
18
Fixer
TESS
There were few greater joys in life than watching Luke Bennet use power tools.
I’d walked out of my room to grab him and drag him to the shop for the meeting with the magazine editor. But watching him, all my plans—as well as my concept of time—fell out of my head like apples tumbling out of a sack.
He was up on a ladder, installing crown molding, his back rippling and sweating and dotted with sawdust. A pencil rested in the crook of his ear, his big, square hands holding a nail gun. His body jolted with every pop and hiss of the machine, his muscles flexing in sync as he braced for each nail.
A swooning sigh slid out of me, and for a second, I just stood there like a fool, watching him nail a board to a wall even though we were about to be late.
He reached for the corner, displaying his impressive wingspan, and popped the last nail into place before turning to climb down the ladder. He spotted me, smirking when he caught me gawking.
“I’d make a gun-show joke, but it feels too easy,” he said, hopping off the last step with a crinkle of the plastic tarp he’d laid out.
“You should have gone for it,” I said, smiling up at him as he approached. “Woulda worked on two levels.”
He stole a quick kiss. “Time to go?”
I nodded, my smile fading. “I don’t want to be late.”
“The shop’s ready. Everything’s going to be perfect—don’t worry.”
“It’s like you don’t even know me.”
“Or I do, and that’s why it’s my job to reassure you it’s gonna be fine.”
I gave him a look, fond and teasing, as I changed the subject. “Are you going to shower or show up shirtless and musky?”
He hooked my neck and brought my nose into his sweaty chest, my squealing and wiggling doing absolutely nothing to ease his grip. It was like trying to fight my way out of a giant’s fist.
“You like my musky shirtlessness.”
I swatted at him blindly, giggling. “I do, but not for a business meeting.”
He kissed the top of my head and let me go. “I’ll swing by the house and shower.” He met my mighty frown with a sideways smile. “Seriously, don’t worry. Give me ten minutes—I’ll be ready to roll and musk-free, on time and as promised.”
I eyed him. “A ten-minute shower?”
“No, a four-minute shower and six minutes to pick out my outfit.”
I followed him toward the door, calling my goodbye at Dad over my shoulder.
When we stepped out, I asked, “How do you take a shower in under five minutes?”
He shrugged, stuffing the hem of his shirt into his back pocket rather than putting it on. “Any longer than that, and you’re just masturbating.”
A laugh burst past my lips.
We trotted down the stairs, leaving the little elevator for old Mrs. Reynolds upstairs and Dad.
“You nervous?” he asked as we stepped out into the heat.
“Are you kidding? I had a nightmare last night that all the flowers died overnight, and the editor laughed us out of town.”
He chuckled. “She’s just coming to look around. Don’t worry, Tess.”
“You keep saying that like it’s actually going to make me stop worrying.”
Luke grabbed my hand, looking down at me with that smile of his, the one that made it seem like nothing could ever go wrong, nothing in the whole world.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
I sighed. “I do.”
“Then let me worry for the both of us.”
He squeezed my hand, which was lost somewhere inside of his. And for a second, I did.
We kissed goodbye at his front stoop, and he darted up the stairs and disappeared inside. As for me, well, I headed into the shop and immediately started worrying again. I worried over the installation. I worried over the front display table. I worried over the arrangement I’d started with the full intent of finishing it only once I had an audience. Ivy watched me, teased me a little, but let me fuss.
It just made me feel better. Idle hands and all that.
Twelve minutes later, Luke was downstairs, his black hair damp and rutted from his fingers. When he kissed me, he smelled like soap and tasted like mint, and the combination made me wish he were shirtless again.
But alas, the bell over the door rang. And when we turned, it was to find a woman who seemed only a little older than us, looking smart in a pencil skirt and tailored shirt, assistant at her side.
I followed Luke out into the shop, the two of us giddy and smiling.
She stuck out her hand, smiling broadly back at us. “Good to see you, Luke.”
“Natalie. Thanks for coming. This is Tess Monroe, our head of design and production and the mastermind behind the window installations.”