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  “I need to speak to Liam Wolf.”

  I hope that I can convince him to meet me back at Wild Lilac so I can give him the envelope and his credit card. The flowers technically belong to him, so the choice of what to do with them is in his hands.

  “Mr. Wolf is unavailable. May I take a message?”

  “I have something that belongs to him,” I explain to the woman on the other end of the call. “It’s imperative that I give it to him tonight.”

  “Do you know where our office is located?” she chirps back in a happy tone.

  Even though she can’t see me, I nod. “I do.”

  “If you’d like, you can swing by and drop off whatever it is,” she pauses. “I’ll be sure it gets to him before he leaves for the day.”

  This is an answer to my prayer.

  I won’t have to be the bearer of bad news. I can dump everything in the lap of the woman I’m talking to.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I say before ending the call.

  This delivery debacle is almost over. After a quick stop at Liam’s office, I’ll be home free.

  Chapter 3

  Athena

  “Oh, no.” Audrey, the woman sitting behind the reception desk at Dehaven Center, shakes her head. “Are you saying that you tried to give these to his girlfriend, and she refused them?”

  I nod. I explained the situation to her twice. The first time I could tell she wasn’t paying attention. Her focus was on the screen of the phone in her hands.

  When I plopped the enormous bouquet on her desk, she took notice, so I repeated my story word-for-word a second time.

  “I thought Wren was the woman of his dreams,” she mutters under her breath. “Why would she do this?”

  I shrug as if the question was directed at me even though I know she’s lost in thought.

  I shove a hand into the front pocket of my jeans and tug out Liam’s credit card. “He forgot this at my shop. Can you see to it that he gets this too?”

  Her gaze floats over the card before it lands back on the envelope. “You said that she wrote him a note?”

  I watch as she flips the envelope over. Her fingernail skims over the small piece of blue tape.

  I lean forward. “Her note is in there. It’s for his eyes only.”

  It’s not my place to say that, but I swear that this woman is about ready to pull back the tape and read the message.

  “Of course.” She pushes the envelope to the side. “Did she say anything about what she was feeling?”

  The compassion in her tone is unmistakable. Blonde curls bounce around her heart-shaped face. She’s dressed in a cream suit with a pink blouse underneath. Her entire look gives off an air of calmness and serenity.

  It makes sense since she’s the first person to greet anyone who walks through the double glass doors of the Dehaven Center.

  The reception area that I’m standing in is decorated in muted tones. There’s soft music playing and the gray chairs that line the wall face a coffee table that is covered in magazines and pamphlets.

  To the left is a corridor that’s home to a series of doors. All of them are open except one.

  I’m not about to offer her a replay of Wren’s words, so I go with the easy answer. “She asked me to give the note and the flowers to him.”

  Audrey trails a fingertip over one of the petals of a yellow daylily. “These are breathtaking. Mr. Wolf has great taste, doesn’t he?”

  I glance over my shoulder at the bank of elevators beyond the glass doors before I level my gaze back on her face. “I need to go.”

  “I introduced them,” she says, shoving to her feet. “Wren did my engagement photos and I’ve booked her for the wedding too.”

  She wiggles her left hand in the air, showing off a diamond and emerald ring.

  “This isn’t my first marriage, but who says you can’t have it all the second time around?”

  I’m not one to judge. If circumstances were different, I’d pitch my case to do the flowers for her wedding, but I’m only here to deliver bad news.

  As if she’s read my mind, she sighs. “Which florist do you work for? I’m looking for just the right person to handle the flowers for my special day.”

  My hand dives back into my tote. I yank out another business card. I haven’t given out two in one day before.

  “I own Wild Lilac.” I drop the card in front of her. “I’d be honored to work with you on creating the perfect floral designs for your wedding.”

  It’s a line I rehearsed over and over before I opened the shop. I don’t have the best track record at appearing casual when I’m jumping up and down with joy internally.

  Audrey gazes at my card before she slides it into one of the pockets of her suit jacket. “I’ll call you this week and we’ll set something up.”

  I’ve scored two new potential clients tonight. It’s a big win I didn’t see coming when I set out to deliver the bouquet to Wren.

  “I look forward to that.” I tap my fingers on her desk, knowing that I’ll call her in a week if see hasn’t reached out. “Thank you for taking care of the situation with Liam.”

  “Athena? What are you doing here?”

  The sound of Liam’s voice lures Audrey’s gaze to the left. Mine follows.

  Liam is standing next to an older man. It’s obvious by the tissue in the man’s hand and the redness of his eyes that he’s been crying.

  I look down not wanting to infringe on the man’s privacy.

  “I’ll see you next week?” The man’s voice is gentle and soft. “Same time?”

  “Absolutely,” Liam answers. “If you need to talk before then, call anytime.”

  Audrey lowers herself back into her chair as the man passes us both on his way out of the office and toward the elevators.

  I’d follow his lead, but I doubt he’d appreciate the company on the ride down to the lobby.

  “What’s all this?” Liam’s hand hovers over the flowers and his credit card. “You said you’d take care of the delivery tonight, Athena.”

  “She tried,” Audrey interjects before I can say anything.

  Liam’s gaze finds mine. His brows pinch together. “Was there a problem?”

  I motion toward the envelope near Audrey’s hand. “Wren wrote you a note and asked me to get it to you along with the flowers. You forgot your credit card at my shop, so I thought I’d stop by here and drop everything off.”

  “That was my idea,” Audrey pipes up. “I told Athena to come by when she called asking to speak with you. I knew you’d want to deal with this tonight.”

  I have no problem letting her take credit for this hot mess.

  After sliding the credit card into his pocket, Liam scoops up the envelope. Ripping it open, he flips the paper over twice before he scans what’s written in red ink.

  “What the hell?” he bites out under his breath.

  Audrey cranes her neck to try and read anything that’s in her view.

  I drop my gaze because looking at the floor seems like the safest bet at the moment. That note is personal. I’m already too involved in this.

  My timing may be off, but I need to get the hell out of here. I consider my next move. Do I offer my condolences? Is it better to leave without a word?

  I don’t know the protocol for walking out on a customer who just got dumped.

  Audrey unwittingly jumps into the role of my savior. “I assume you’d like some time alone, so Athena and I will leave you be. You’ll lock up?”

  I toss her a look of gratefulness, but her gaze is pinned on Liam’s face.

  “Yes,” he says curtly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Audrey.”

  I’m not offered anything but a quick glance from him.

  I’ll take it.

  Anything is better than having to answer questions about Wren’s demeanor or what she said before she sent me packing.

  Audrey shoulders a dark blue purse and rounds her desk headed toward the double glass doors that lea
d to the bank of elevators. Silently following her, I steal one last look at Liam.

  Our eyes lock for the briefest of moments before he turns and starts back down the corridor, leaving the note and the flowers behind.

  Chapter 4

  Athena

  An unexpected loud rap on the locked door of my floral shop sends the glass vase in my hand crashing to the ground.

  “Dammit,” I whisper under my breath even though I’m the only one here.

  I’m alone inside the store every morning until I unlock the doors at nine a.m. sharp. That’s when Leanna Pearsall arrives with two piping hot teas in her hands.

  She’s a wizard when it comes to floral arranging.

  Years of her life have been spent inside this shop. Leanna worked for the previous owner. Part of the sale agreement was that I’d employ Leanna for six hours a day, five days a week. Her husband, Al, handles all of the store’s deliveries when he pops by to pick up Leanna after her shift.

  The rest of his day is spent being an Uber driver.

  They balance their time so at least one of them is home when their three kids aren’t in school.

  A quick glance at the clock on the wall keeps me in place.

  There’s a sign posted on the door that clearly states when Wild Lilac is open for business. I use the precious early morning hours to work on orders and accept a daily delivery from my floral supplier.

  That’s already happened, so the person still banging their hand against the door has to be an overly eager customer.

  Just as I reach down to grab one of the large shards of glass, the phone sitting on the checkout counter starts ringing.

  It jars me enough that I turn toward the sound quickly, too quickly.

  A jagged corner of the piece of glass in my hand tears across my finger.

  A single drop of blood falls on the white tile by my feet.

  Pressing my finger into the palm of my other hand, I head for the checkout counter and the box of tissues that are always there.

  Leanna was the one who suggested we have tissues available to customers. Ordering flowers can be an emotional experience for some people, especially those who are looking for a bouquet to send to a person who lost a loved one.

  By the time I open my hand to grab a tissue, blood has pooled in my palm.

  I outgrew my fear of blood somewhere around the time one of my younger brothers cracked his chin against the sidewalk in front of our townhouse.

  I stepped up to the plate, dragging him back inside even though he was already five inches taller than me.

  I cleaned the wound, bandaged it up, and took him to the hospital in a taxi.

  He needed four stitches.

  I deserved a medal for overcoming my fear of blood.

  My seventeen-year-old self was proud that I’d played the part of a responsible adult.

  Today, six years later, I’m still trying to master that role.

  Some days are easier than others.

  I glance down at a drop of blood that has soaked into the thigh of my dark wash jeans.

  I can trade them out for the extra pair of jeans I have stored in my locker in the back room.

  My wardrobe planning is interrupted by the persistent blare of a car alarm. I look toward the door of my shop. Whoever was knocking is gone, but I catch a glimpse of someone darting past on the sidewalk.

  Dawn hasn’t settled over Manhattan yet, but there are always people milling about. I start my daily walk here just after six. My first stop is to share a brief conversation with a bodega owner who is always sweeping the sidewalk outside his shop. In the dead of winter, when snow blankets the city, he trades the broom for a shovel, but he never fails to have a smile on his face regardless of the weather.

  My last stop is at a bakery a block from here.

  It doesn’t open until seven, so I stand in front of the shuttered windows and breathe in the scent of freshly baked bread.

  For such a large, crowded city, those moments offer a small-town feel that I once knew and still sometimes wish for.

  The phone on the counter starts ringing again.

  “What?” I ask in exasperation. “Who has a floral emergency at six-thirty in the morning?”

  Swiping up the blood with a tissue, I reach for the phone. “Good morning. Wild Lilac. This is Athena speaking.”

  “Hey.” A toe-curling male voice greets me. “Do you have a minute to talk to me?”

  I’ll give him as many minutes as he wants. Whoever he is, he’s got a voice that I could listen to all day.

  “Sure,” I say. “What can I help you with?”

  The low rumble of a chuckle flows out of him. “You can start by unlocking the door.”

  I look back at the door and the man peering into the shop with a hand perched over his forehead and a phone tucked against his ear.

  I didn’t think I’d see Liam Wolf again, yet here he is in the flesh waiting for me to open the door and let him in.

  Chapter 5

  Liam

  Athena’s gaze glides over my gray T-shirt and the faded jeans I put on after I showered an hour ago.

  On any other weekday morning, I’d be prepping for a full day at the office, but my first appointment isn’t until eleven.

  Locking the door behind me, she twists in a circle sending her long hair flowing down her back.

  “We don’t open until nine,” she says. “Why are you here?”

  I glance down at her hand and the crumpled tissue she’s holding. Tilting my head to get a better look, I spot a red stain. “Are you bleeding?”

  “It’s nothing.” Her right hand darts behind her back. “I cut myself on a piece of glass.”

  “Let me see.” I curl a finger in the air. “It looks bad.”

  Shaking her head, she points at an antique rectangular table set up next to a row of coolers with glass doors that house buckets filled with flowers. “I dropped a vase. It’s a hazard of the job.”

  I look over at the shards of glass littering the floor. “That’s a hazard of the job?”

  The pink sweater she’s wearing slides down her left shoulder to reveal bare skin. She doesn’t make a move to readjust it.

  “Your hand,” I say, pointing a finger at her. “Let me see.”

  Reluctantly, she swings her arm forward. When she opens her hand, she bunches the tissue in her other fist. “See? I told you. It’s nothing.”

  Her hand is small. It’s delicate. A thin gold band circles her thumb.

  A single drop of blood seeps out of the cut on her index finger.

  “How deep is that?” I ask, reaching for her.

  Her breath catches when I take her hand in mine, cradling it gently. “It’s not deep enough for stitches.”

  I lean down to get a closer look.

  She’s right. It’s shallow. My eye wanders over her palm, stopping at a half-inch scar that taints the perfect skin.

  I circle the area with my fingertips. “This one was deeper. What happened here?”

  Dabbing the tissue on the fresh cut, she laughs. “That’s a carrot’s fault.”

  I hold back a smile. “A carrot?”

  Her eyes lock on mine. Nodding, she sighs. “I had a pet rabbit when I was a kid. I grabbed a carrot and a knife to make dinner for it. The knife ended up in my hand.”

  I wince. “That must have hurt like hell.”

  She shrugs, sending the sweater another half-inch down her shoulder. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Her head bows, a smiling playing on her full lips. “I passed out.”

  I cock a brow.

  “The sight of blood used to make me lightheaded,” she goes on. “When the knife pierced my skin, I hit the floor.”

  I look her over from head-to-toe. “It looks like you’ve worked through that. You’re steady on your feet.”

  “It’s all smoke and mirrors. I’m going to grab a bandage and wrap this up.”

  I step aside when she brushe
s past me headed back toward her work area.

  I follow behind her, easily keeping up with her hurried pace.

  Popping open a plastic container on a bench near the table, she yanks out a bandage. She unwraps it and has it around her finger in an instant.

  Tossing the tissue and the bandage wrapper in the trash, she finally turns her full attention back to me. “How can I help you, Liam?”

  I wish to fuck I knew. I left my apartment this morning in search of fresh air and I ended up in this neighborhood. I never expected to find Athena at work this early. She got stuck in the middle of a shitty situation last night because of me and I want to make that right.

  I didn’t anticipate that Wren would pull the plug on our relationship. We had our issues, but we were working through them. I thought we were headed toward better times, not a breakup.

  Waiting for me to answer, Athena rounds the table, being mindful not to step on any pieces of the broken vase.

  I do the same. I follow her lead when she crouches to pick up the glass.

  The heels on her black boots are less than an inch. By my estimate, she’s no more than five foot two or three. I’ve got more than a foot in height and a hundred pounds on her, but down here, face-to-face, we’re on a level playing field.

  “You don’t have to clean up my mess for me,” she says.

  Reaching for a large piece of glass, I huff out a laugh. “It’s the least I can do after wasting hours of your life last night.”

  Her hand lands on my wrist, stilling my movements. “You didn’t waste my time.”

  I lock eyes with her. I know kindness when I see it. “I put you in a bad position last night. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Not bad,” she corrects me with a lift of her brow. “Awkward. It was awkward, but there was a bright side to it.”

  Curiosity draws my brows up too. “I don’t see a bright side.”

  “For me.” She taps a finger to her chest. “Not you.”