Chapter 1: Behind the Counter
The air in Petal & Suds was thick with the scent of dried lavender and cedarwood shavings. Rose smoothed the front of her sundress—one Liam had badgered her into buying, claiming the pale green made her eyes look like moss after a rain—and focused on the pyramid of oatmeal-honey bars. The daylight was fading to a deep, bruised purple outside the big front window, casting long shadows across the worn pine floorboards.
She’d sold the last of the cedarwood-sage this afternoon. To him, of course. He always bought it. The man had a standing order, but he still came in every week, filling the small shop with his presence, buying a single bar like it was a ritual.
The bell above the door hadn’t chimed. She hadn’t heard boots on the floor.
But she felt him. A shift in the air, a slight drop in pressure. Then his calloused hand slid up the back of her thigh, beneath the hem of her skirt. The touch was shockingly warm, deliberate.
“You kept this soap behind the counter for months, Rosebud.”
His voice was a low murmur right against her ear, his breath stirring the fine hairs at her temple. His other hand came around her, pinning both her wrists gently but firmly to the shelf in front of her, the rough cedar edge biting into her skin. The entire hard, hot line of his body pressed against her back.
“Just like you’ve been keeping how bad you want me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t fear. It was a lightning strike of pure, undiluted want, so sharp it made her knees weak. She’d spent years building walls, smoothing her edges into something quiet and safe. Jake Cooper, with his sun-creased eyes and disarming dimples, didn’t knock them down. He simply stepped over them like they weren’t even there.
He nuzzled the sensitive spot below her ear. “You gonna deny it?”
Before she could form a word—a protest, a plea, anything—the shop door chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that shattered the tense, intimate silence.
“Rose? You still here? I brought tacos from—oh.”
Maggie’s voice cut off. Chloe’s gasp was audible from the doorway.
Rose froze, heat flooding her cheeks. She tried to pull her wrists free, but Bear’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, he turned his head, just slightly, acknowledging their audience with a lazy, unapologetic glance over his shoulder.
“Evening, ladies.”
He didn’t let her go.
His mouth found the curve of her neck, his lips hot and insistent. He sucked lightly, and a helpless, choked sound escaped her. He swallowed that, too, kissing her there until she felt the mark blooming on her skin. A claim. Her vision blurred at the edges, the rows of soaps turning into a haze of color and scent.
“Bear,” she finally managed, a strangled whisper.
“Maggie and I can… come back?” Chloe’s voice was a mixture of shock and unmistakable delight.
“Don’t rush on our account,” Bear said, his voice rough. He finally released Rose’s wrists but kept his arms caging her, his hand splayed possessively on her stomach, holding her against him. Rose trembled, her palms flat against the shelf.
“I think we rushed enough,” Maggie said, her tone dry but threaded with amusement. “You alright, Rosie?”
Rose could only nod, not trusting her voice. Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming.
“We’ll be in the back. With the tacos. Which are getting cold.” Maggie’s footsteps retreated, followed by Chloe’s quieter ones. The curtain to the stockroom swished closed.
The moment they were gone, the energy changed. The performance was over. What was left was just them, and the painful, thrilling truth of what had just happened.
Bear slowly turned her around. His face was serious now, the playful glint gone from his blue eyes. He searched her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone, drifting down to touch her bottom lip, which was still parted and breathless.
“You okay?” he asked, the question stark and simple.
She looked up at him, at the genuine concern in his gaze, and something tight in her chest unraveled. “You are unbelievable.”
A slow smile spread across his face, carving those deep dimples she secretly loved. “You set a bar behind the counter with my name on it for eight weeks. That’s a long time to wait, Rosebud. I’m a patient man, but I’m not a saint.” His hands slid to her hips. “You want me to stop?”
She didn’t. That was the terrifying, exhilarating part. The ghost of her past, the one that flinched at sudden movements and loud voices, was silent. This man, this overwhelming force of nature, felt like the only real, solid thing in the room. He’d seen her scars, the one hidden in her hairline, the ones she carried inside, and he hadn’t looked away. He’d just gotten closer.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”
The words hung between them. His eyes darkened.
The curtain rustled again. Liam’s head popped through, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline. “Oh, thank God. The sexual tension in this shop has been dehydrating my skin. Have we moved past the yearning glances phase? Is this the ravishing phase? Because Chloe picked a wedding color scheme and she needs to know if it’s sapphire or cornflower blue for the groomsmen.”
Bear laughed, a rich, rolling sound that filled the shop. He kept one arm around Rose’s shoulders, tucking her into his side. “Tell Chloe to cool her jets. I’m still in the persuasion phase.”
Liam grinned. “Persuasion looks good on you, cowboy. Rose, your lip gloss is smeared. Also, we need to talk about that sundress. It’s a success. Buy three more.” He disappeared again.
Alone once more, the quiet settled back, but it was softer now. The frantic energy had bled into something warmer, quieter. Bear looked down at her. “You hungry?”
“For tacos?” she asked.
“For tacos,” he confirmed, his smile gentle now. “Then, if you’re willing, maybe a drive. My place is quiet.We could talk. Or not talk.”
She studied the front of his shirt, the familiar plaid soft from washing. She traced a seam with her finger. “Just a drive?”
He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up. His eyes were incredibly clear, incredibly honest. “Whatever you want, Rose. Whatever you’re ready for. Tonight, tomorrow, next month. You set the pace.”
The kindness in his words, the stark contrast to the dominant way he’d held her against the shelf, undid her completely. He was a paradox she was desperately starting to love. She saw her own reflection in his eyes, small and safe and… wanted.
“A drive sounds good,” she said.
He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Then let’s go get some tacos before your sister and my sister-in-law eat them all.”
He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and led her toward the back room. The shop was dusky and serene, the soaps standing like silent sentinels. As they pushed through the curtain, the sound of Maggie and Chloe’s laughter spilled out, along with the smell of cilantro and lime.
Rose squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, a simple, steady pressure that felt like a promise. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something to be endured. It felt like something to be walked into, hand in hand, right now.