Chapter 7
Athena
This is a daily habit I could get used to.
I smile at the man who walked into my store as I was about to lock the door for the day.
It was another busy one thanks to Al’s brilliant marketing schemes. I had to bring in extra help today in the form of one of my weekend assistants. She’s still in college but had a block of time free this afternoon. I put her to work, prepping the flowers that Leanna and I needed for the arrangements we had to get out before Al arrived to deliver them.
My great day just got better.
“Athena Millett.” A smile tugs on the corners of Liam’s mouth as he says my name. “I owe you.”
I take in the sight of him as he strolls closer to where I’m standing in the middle of the store.
His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his dark blue pants. The light blue button-down shirt he’s wearing is open at the collar and rolled at the sleeves. Today he’s wearing brown oxfords on his feet.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
He rakes me from head-to-toe.
I tucked the front of my short-sleeved white sweater into black and white checkered pants. My low-heeled black boots are my most comfortable footwear, so they almost always make the cut when I’m getting dressed every morning.
As usual, I tied my hair up sometime around mid-morning when the mad rush started.
Pursing my lips, I ask the obvious question. “Why do you owe me?”
By the time the last word has left my mouth, he’s in front of me. He smells as good as he looks. The scent of his cologne draws me a step closer to him.
“You made my mom cry.”
I lift my chin to make eye contact with him. “The flowers made her cry? In a good way?”
Nodding, he looks around the store. “In the best way. Are you almost done here?”
“I’m never done here,” I joke. “I was about to lock the door and call it a day.”
“Have you had dinner yet?”
I blurt out the honest answer before I think it through “Not yet.”
“Me either.” He locks eyes with me. “Let me buy you dinner to repay you for making my mom happy.”
“You made her happy by ordering the flowers,” I point out. “I just arranged them in a bouquet. It’s the thought that counts and that came from you.”
“This wasn’t the first time I gave her flowers.” Stepping closer to me, he drops his tone. “She’s never cried before.”
I feel a twisted sense of pride in that. Not everyone has a visceral reaction to a bouquet, even if I hope they do. A lot of people only see flowers as a bright spot on a lousy day or a reminder of a birthday or an anniversary.
“Never?” I question with a tilt of my head.
“Never,” he repeats. “So it stands to reason that I owe you. Dinner is on me if you’re up to it.”
I’m up to anything that keeps me this close to him for as long as possible.
He may have a broken heart beating inside that massively broad chest of his, but eating dinner with him can’t hurt.
It’s not a date. It’s a