Chapter 2

When I pushed open the shop door, the wind chime rang out with a clear sound.

Blake was already waiting at the entrance, holding a small bouquet of white lisianthus, simply wrapped. Though it was nothing aggressive like roses, it was still impossible to ignore.

“Morning, Eleanor.” His voice was a little tight as he handed me the flowers. “I saw them on the way here… thought they suited you.”

His shy expression overlapped with Carter’s face from my dream.

Maybe he could be a good choice.

“Thank you.”

I took the flowers, deliberately letting my nails brush lightly across his slightly damp palm. Then I turned and placed them into a glass vase on the counter, keeping my movements as natural as possible.

“Here’s the sage. Fresh, they just arrived yesterday.” I took the bundle from the cabinet and held it out to him.

He didn’t move. I heard him take a deep breath.

“Eleanor.”

His hand closed around mine, the one holding the sage. I looked up and met his eyes. In his brown gaze was a rare determination, though the trembling beneath it was easy to see.

“I know… this is sudden.” He spoke quickly, as if afraid his courage might run out at any moment. “But I wanted to ask if we could take our relationship… beyond just friends?”

He took a small step closer, his hands unconsciously gripping me.

The shop was very quiet. Only the ticking of the old clock remained, and the faint scent of lisianthus drifted through the air.

My fingers traced from his shoulder down to his chest as I leaned in and asked softly by his ear, “And how do you want to go further?”

Blake looked at me, then carefully leaned in.

I closed my eyes and accepted his kiss.

He lifted me onto the narrow corner of the counter. One hand lingered at my waist, while the other lifted my skirt, sliding silently along the soft inner curve of my thigh, slipping beneath the fabric.

The unfamiliar warmth inside me sparked like a flame, igniting my body that had been empty for far too long.

The sudden rough friction, along with the relentless pressure and movement, threw my breathing out of rhythm.

My vision blurred. I thought I saw Carter.

“It feels like a dream.”

“Carter” held me tightly, breathing hard with excitement. “I thought you’d turn me down.”

How could I?

How could I ever turn you down?

One finger, then three, slid in without warning. As his knuckles bent, more warmth spilled out.

I clung tightly to “Carter”. The buttons at my collar came undone, heat blooming vividly across my chest, trembling with the rhythm of his movements.

“Carter” pressed me down against the counter. The cold glass made me cling to him instinctively. My skirt was pulled away, and a massive source of heat pressed in from behind.

“Carter, I love you,” I murmured hazily, half-dreaming.

“Who’s Carter?”

The fog cleared.

I met Blake’s shocked and wounded face.