Page 32 of Manhattan Bossholes

But not this time.

I let my thoughts run free, savoring every detail of her. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the faint rise and fall of her chest, even the tiny scar on her knee. I wanted to map every inch of her.

“I’m picking up this beautiful, clean scent. Fresh and green. But I think the roses are the strongest aroma.” Piper pointed at the display of pink, red, and peach roses.

“I agree. What else?”

She laughed. “Is this a test? Should I have studied up on my flowers?”

“I can teach you everything you need to know, don’t you worry,” I said. “My mom’s a world-class gardener, and my dad ran Summit for decades before retiring—I’ve learned from the very best.”

Piper’s mouth twisted up in an adorable grin. “You know what? I think that’s really amazing. You look like this big tough guy, yet you know all about flowers. I like the contradiction.”

“It’s good to keep people guessing,” I replied. “Now let’s talk roses.” I pulled a pink one from the bucket. “Tell me what this scent makes you think of.”

Piper held my gaze as she walked closer and touched her nose to the bloom. “Honestly? It’s beautiful, but roses always remind me of…”

“Grandmothers,” we said in unison.

She giggled. “So we agree! Honestly, I love the flower and the scent, but as a perfume? No thank you.”

Rose scent would always hold a special place in my heart since it was Nana Dee’s go-to fragrance, but Piper was right; it skewed older. It was the reason Summit only had one top note rose fragrance—Nostalgia—and why we rarely even included the scent in our primary ingredient line.

“If you had to choose one flower from all of these as your favorite scent, which would it be?” I asked, genuinely interested. The types of scents people gravitated toward revealed a great deal about them.

Piper strolled deeper into the stall and surveyed her options from the explosion of color.

“Gardenias smell amazing,” she pointed to the white flowers. “And lily of the valley are so sweet and delicate. They remind me of a fairy flower.” Piper stopped in front of a bucket packed with purple flowers. “But for me, it’ll always be lilacs. I just love the fragrance.”

I joined her and leaned down to inhale the sweetness.

“Excellent choice,” I said. “They’re sturdy early bloomers that last a long time when cut. Every different flower has a special meaning. The Victorians believed lilacs were the symbol of the first stirrings of love.”

It wasn’t like to me say something without considering the subtext first, but here I was talking about love with a woman I couldn’t stop staring at.

“Oh really?” Piper’s eyes went round. “Huh, that’s, uh…interesting.”

What was “interesting” was that we both seemed to be feeling something even if neither one of us would ever admit it. We were alone in the booth, surrounded by walls of blooms. The moment felt cinematic, like it wouldn’t be out of character for me to sweep her into my arms, bend her backward, and kiss her. And the way she was looking up at me felt strangely like the last time we were toe to toe, frozen in a moment and desperate to see what would happen next.

Wondering if one of us would be brave enough to do the thing we both wanted.

But what if I was misreading the situation? We had too much on the line right now to potentially throw everything away for a quick romance—and that was the extent of what I had to offer.

I knew what I had to do, as much as it pained me.

“So how about those croissants?” I asked, taking a step backward to break the spell.

“Yes, croissants!” Piper sounded relieved. “This way.”

She expertly threaded through the crowd, and I followed behind her. I wasn’t shocked at how many heads she turned as she made her way to the bakery stand.

Piper was stunning, even bare-faced and in couch clothes.

“Okay,” she said with a flourish as she stopped in front of a booth. “Croissants of every flavor. Don’t even think of buying just one because you’ll regret it the moment you eat the last bite.”

“I’m not a big sweets guy, but the Nutella version looks dangerous.”

“It is. You can just do a few dozen extra pushups and sit-ups as penance,” she poked me in the stomach.