He Loves Me Not (Bunch-A-Blooms 1)

“I’m not too sure about that,” she whispered.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s gotten into you?”

Smirking, he shook his head. “Pretty sure I’m the one who got into you last night.”

“Mason Alexander Patten,” she scolded.

He laughed. “What? I was.”

“If you want to be again, you’ll zip it until I have some caffeine in my system.”

He clamped his mouth shut and enjoyed the sleepy-eyed version of her in front of him as he drank from his own mug.

She set her mug down. “Better?” he asked.

“Very.”

“Tub time.”

“Why are you so sweet to me?”

“I’m treating you how you deserve to be treated. How you should always be cared for.” He set the tray aside and held out his hand, refusing to meet her probing gaze. Inside the bathroom, they stripped out of their clothing, and he helped her sink into the warm water.

“Oh my God, this is what I needed,” she whispered.

“I thought you might. Scoot up.”

“Y-you’re getting in, too?”

“You need someone to wash your back, don’t you?” He winked and slipped in before she could protest or retreat.

“Hmph. Since you’re the cause of this aching, it seems only fair.”

He pulled her back between his legs and leaned against the back of the claw-footed tub. “How long had it been?”

“Almost two years. Doing this with you has opened my eyes to how much I’ve been in a bubble. The shop, my grandpar

ents, my father, my sisters, and their business getting off the ground, have all consumed nearly every moment.”

“Not anymore,” he promised.

Grinning, she glanced up at him. “No, not anymore.”

Unable to resist her, he bent down and kissed her sweetly. The confusion on her face passed swiftly. She’ll get used to it. We can naturally transition into this. They cleaned each other with hushed voices, gentle hands, and sweet kisses. It was the closest thing to perfect he’d ever experienced. When the water cooled, and they stepped out of the tub, he mourned the loss of simplicity as he wrapped her in a fluffy, peach-colored towel and patted her dry.

“How do you want to handle the move?” she asked.

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less about half the things in my place, and your house is huge. I’ll keep what I want, and sell the condo fully furnished. You don’t have to worry about anything other than breaking the news.” He grabbed a towel for himself and dried off.

“Or you could just sort of make the transition and let them figure it out?” she asked hopefully.

He laughed. “We both know it doesn’t work that way.”

“I know. It’s exhausting all these stages.”

“I know. Almost done, then we can settle into a routine, okay?”