Page 120 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to Jo, who’s also been recruited. “I’m forty-two years old. I don’t need destiny thrown at me in the form of overpriced flowers.”
“Says the woman who sells romance novels for a living,” Jo shoots back with a grin. “Consider this research.”
Before I can form a proper comeback, Amber turns her back to the crowd, bouquet raised high. The flowers—a gorgeous cascade of white peonies and dusty miller—seem to hover in slow motion before gravity conspires against my desperate attempt to duck.
The bouquet lands squarely in my hands.
Every woman on the dance floor erupts in squeals and applause while I stand frozen, holding flowers like evidence of a crime I didn’t mean to commit. Heat floods my cheeks as cameras flash and people cheer, but it’s the sudden, intense sensation of being watched that makes my pulse stutter.
I look up to find Scott Avery staring at me from across the dance floor with an expression I can’t quite read. His usual polished confidence seems to have short-circuited, leaving behind raw hunger that makes my breath catch.
Our eyes lock across the crowded reception, and the noise around us fades to white static. Scott’s gaze travels from the bouquet in my hands to my face with slow intensity, the look of a man seeing the answer to a question he’s been afraid to ask.
My breath catches as heat that has nothing to do with July humidity spreads through my entire nervous system. This is Scott Avery—my landlord’s partner, polished professional, the kind of man who treats every conversation like a board meeting.
So why is he looking at me like I’m the solution to a problem he’s been trying to solve for months?
Later, fairy lights twinkle in gathering dusk while the last few guests linger over coffee and conversation. I’m helping stack cake plates when a familiar voice makes me nearly drop the entire load.
“Miss Wells.”
I turn to find Scott Avery hovering near the dessert table. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks unsettled.
“Mr. Avery.” The air between us crackles with unspoken tension. “How nice of you to notice I exist.”
“I make it a point to keep track of my tenants.” The words hit like ice water, but his voice has gone rough around the edges.
My chest tightens with fury and something far more dangerous. “Tell me, what do you think actually matters?”
“Places that serve real needs instead of selling pretty dreams.” His gaze drops to my mouth, lingers there with naked hunger before snapping back to my eyes.
I step closer, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne, close enough to see his pupils dilate. “How lucky that you’re here to teach me about reality.”
“Someone should.” His hands ball into fists. “Before you waste more time chasing fairy-tale endings.”
The crowd erupts in cheers as Grayson drops to one knee in front of Michelle across the lawn.
I gasp and turn to Scott. “Are you seeing this?” I cheer and clap when she says yes. “It’s about time, you two,” I call out.
Michelle and Grayson are embracing and kissing now, and I can’t help the uncomfortable feeling of loss that snakes through me unexpectedly. Loss for something I never had.
Scott’s breathing has turned ragged, the way his control is unraveling thread by thread.
“Don’t you dare dismiss their happiness,” I whisper, stepping back before I do something catastrophic, “just because you’ve decided love is worthless.”
For one electric moment, his mask slips completely. I see the man beneath the polish—hungry, conflicted, burning with the same impossible attraction that’s been driving me slowly insane.
Then his walls slam back into place. He straightens his tie with military precision. “Enjoy your flowers, Miss Wells.”
He vanishes into the crowd, leaving me breathless and buzzing with equal parts rage and desperate want.
“What was that all about?” Michelle appears at my elbow, glowing with engagement bliss. “You look like you want to either murder him or drag him behind the nearest garden shed.”
“That was my landlord explaining why my life’s work is a waste of time.”
“Honey, that man looked at you like you were the answer to a prayer he’s been too proud to pray.” Michelle grins. “Classic enemies-to-lovers setup. You’re going to drive each other absolutely insane.”
I clutch the bouquet tighter and watch Scott’s broad shoulders disappear into the crowd, wondering why every word from his mouth made me want to prove him wrong in the most spectacular way possible.
And why does my chest feel completely empty now?