She doesn’t belong in my shop.
Too polished. Too stubborn. Too damn tempting to be tossing ribbon around like she’s not standing six feet from an orc with a violent past and hands built to break things — until she gave them something worth holding.
She fights me over shelf space. Petal choices. Lease terms.
Says she hates the way I reorganize her flowers.
Then blushes when I look at her like I’m about to ruin her and the bouquet she’s holding.
I should’ve stayed quiet. Should’ve stayed away.
Instead, I’m carving her name into benches. Brewing teas she never drinks.
And watching her laugh like it doesn’t undo something deep in my chest.
I was built for battle. But she’s the war I lose on purpose.
She thinks I’ll let her go when the festival ends.
She doesn’t realize I’ve already made her permanent.
She thought we were going to share a shop.
She didn’t realize it would escalate to a bed.
Read on for flower feuds, forced proximity, filthy bench-building, and one possessive orc who never learned how to share. HEA Guaranteed!