When Athena placed the vase on the table, she tilted her head to the left and then the right. That sent her ponytail swinging.
I was spellbound as I watched her twist the vase one way a quarter of an inch until a satisfied smile set over her mouth.
Silently, I move into the kitchen and pour two tall glasses of chilled water.
I used to be a fridge full of beer kind of guy, but alcohol only works for me in moderation.
I reserve that indulgence for when I meet someone for a drink or when my brothers drop by with a case of the imported beer they think I love.
I don’t.
It’s out of my price range, so I let them believe what they will. I’m not going to turn down expensive beer if they’re offering.
When I stroll back into the main living area, Athena’s moved. She’s standing in front of the sofa, staring at it like it’s done her wrong.
A scowl mars her gorgeous face.
“Are you alright?” I ask because I know a pissed off look on a woman’s face when I see it.
Skirting a hand over her brow, she sighs. “One of my suppliers is being a pain in the ass.”
“Bastard.”
Smiling, she looks down at her phone. “That’s exactly what he is and he’s proud of it.”
“Something tells me you can handle him just fine.”
With a half-shrug, she changes the subject. “You have a nice apartment.”
I’ll take the compliment and the opportunity to brighten her mood. “The flowers make all the difference. Feel free to use that as a new slogan for your store.”
She chuckles. “I’ll pass.”
I push one of the glasses of water at her. “Do you have a slogan for your store?”
Taking a sip, she shakes her head. “I think the name speaks for itself.”
I agree. It’s what drew me inside when I ordered the bouquet for Wren.
I met my sister, Nikita, for a coffee that day and then set off on foot toward the nearest subway stop. I passed Athena’s store on my way, and the name etched on the glass sparked something inside of me. I thought about Wren as I pulled on the door handle of Wild Lilac before I walked inside.
Now, I can’t stop thinking about the woman standing in my apartment.
“Do you want to sit down?” I tug on the front of the gray T-shirt I’m wearing.
She looks at my shirt and faded jeans. My cock has been semi-hard since I opened the door and saw her. If she notices the bulge in my jeans, she’s doing a hell of a good job hiding her reaction.
She lowers herself to the sofa, sliding her ass against the leather until she’s teetering on the edge. I get that she’s nervous as fuck right now. I am too. It’s a first for me. I’ve had women here before, but this feels different.
I don’t want to screw this up, so I take a deep breath and plant myself on the sofa too with some distance between us because I can tell she needs it.
She’s got to wonder what the hell I’m doing ordering flowers and requesting that she deliver them.
“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?”
The question is so unexpected that I turn and stare at her. I catch her leaning forward, her gaze trailing over my arms.
“Fourteen,” I admit.