Chapter 2: Building Tension
The afternoon sun spilled through the lace curtains of Florence’s cottage, casting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards. The scent of chamomile tea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint, earthy aroma of old books and the lingering sweetness of the sugar cookies she had baked earlier. Chad sat on the worn-in sofa, his fingers tracing the edge of a well-loved picture book left open on the coffee table. His pulse thrummed in his throat, a steady, insistent rhythm that matched the way his thoughts kept circling back to the way Florence’s lips had felt against his.