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As I step into the bar, I’m greeted with a fresh fragrance filling the air and dry floors beneath my black ankle boots. I chose this footwear because I’ve worn them for years through brutal snowstorms and unrelenting downpours. I knew I’d risk nothing if they came in contact with water, although I had faith that Draven, William, and the men called in to help would have it all taken care of.

“I’ll put these roses in the vase with the others,” William says as he brushes past me so he’s right in my view again. What a view it is.

All six feet plus of him is a sight to behold. Add the tailored gray suit and oxfords on his feet to that, and he’s the epitome of what many women in this city are looking for.

Good looking, successful, and great in bed.

I scrub a hand over my forehead. It does nothing to ease the ongoing anxiety I’m feeling. The internal debate within me hasn’t quieted at all since I slept with William. I want him desperately, but I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified of what will happen if I let my emotions dive into the fray.

Who am I kidding?

I’m already feeling things for him that reach beyond admiration for his ability to get me off. I like him as a person.

Once he’s done arranging the white roses with the violet ones still left from the last bouquet, I suck in a deep breath. “Thank you, William. They’re beautiful.”

He nods as he studies me. “I’d tell you that they pale in comparison to you, but that sounds trite or insufficient. You’re fucking magnificent, Opal. Every time I see you, I think you’ve never looked lovelier, and then you show up like this, and I think,Christ, she’s breathtaking.”

My gaze jumps from his face to the cup of tea and the flowers before it lands on the floors. It’s all too much. He’s too much. If only I had met him years ago before my life was ripped to shreds.

I suddenly feel a sense of loss over what might have been if we had crossed paths at a different time. Tears well in my eyes, so I tilt my head back to try and recover. I can’t cry in front of him. Being this vulnerable has never ended well for me.

“Opal.” My name is wrapped in a growl as it leaves him. “You’re crying. Shit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I don’t stop him when he sprints toward me, and as he wraps his strong arms around me, I let myself fall into his chest. I cling to his vest, taking deep breaths to stop the tears. “It’s you.”

“I’m a bastard,” he snaps.

It comes out so harsh that I can’t help but smile. I know he can’t see it, so I lean back a touch. “You’re not a bastard.”

“I made you cry,” he says, running his thumb over my cheek to catch a single tear. “Whatever the fuck I did, I’m sorry. Tell me what it is so I never repeat it.”

I wish it were that easy, but this is impossible to explain, and doing so would only leave me feeling more exposed, so I go for the easy answer, “I appreciate all of this so much. You brought me flowers and tea. You stayed to help clean up the water. I’m touched by everything you’ve done.”

His expression softens as he stares into my eyes. “I’d do anything for you, Opal.I mean that. If you want me to wear a sandwich board with Turquoise Crown printed on it to spread the word about your bar, I’ll do it. I’ll even hold a big red arrow and dance on the sidewalk out front on the day you open to drive the customers in.”

The mental image of that sends me into a fit of laughter.

“Do you think I’m kidding?” He feigns surprise by widening his eyes. “I’m not fucking kidding, Opal. I know I could get a lot of attention if I stood outside the bar.”

My laughter fades. “I know you could. You always do, and you don’t need a sandwich board or a big red arrow to draw attention to yourself.”

His right brow cocks. “Are you saying I’m cute?”

The word is far too tame to describe him, but I nod. “Something like that.”

He brushes a hand over his shoulder. “I’ll take it. I like it, and in case you haven’t noticed, I like you.”

I can’t tell if it’s a good idea or not, but I confess what I’m feeling with a caveat attached, “I like you too, William, but I need something from you.”

“Name it,” he blurts out as though he’d do anything I asked.

The reality that he might is almost too much for me to comprehend.

“I need this to be casual,” I say, trying desperately to keep my tone even. “I like what we have now. It’s fun, and…”

“And you’re on the cusp of opening up a business,” he assumes that’s what I was about to say. “So, casual is all you have time for.”

That’s not why I need to keep my emotional distance from him, but I nod. He doesn’t need to know that I was shattered by a man I loved, and since then, I haven’t allowed myself more than the occasional one-night stand.