Page 63 of Where the Roses Bloom

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m humiliated,” she mumbled.

“You’re radiant,” I corrected. “And I was real close to makin’ you see God, so I’m a little pissed, honestly.”

She laughed—full and bright—and I turned to take her into my arms again. The kitchen felt warm now, ours again. I could still taste her on my tongue, still feel the magic humming low between us.

We stood like that for a beat. Letting the quiet settle. Letting the house breathe with us.

“Now…I was thinking we’d get back to breakfast, then maybe see if I can finally finish what I started?—”

A breeze pushed through the window screen, sharp with the scent of ozone, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

Willow stiffened.

“What is it?” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared out the window, like she was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

And then we heard it too—the low crunch of gravel.

A car. Still distant, the long driveway giving us time to feel it coming. The house seemed to go still.

“I swear to God, if they’re comin’ back just to fuck with us…” I started, but stopped when I saw her face.

She wasn’t annoyed. She was pale. Focused.

The engine drew closer, the sound wrong. Not Beau. Not Whit. Not anybody from here.

“You know who that is?” I asked, my voice low now.

Willow’s hand tightened on mine.

“I think so,” she said, almost like it wasn’t her own voice. Like it was the house answering through her.

“Who?”

She swallowed, jaw tight. “Carter.”

The name landed heavy.

The ex. The one who let her go. The one who didn’t deserve to find his way up my drive.

“The hell’s he doin’ here?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and now her eyes sparked with something fierce. “But he’s not staying long.”

CHAPTER 22

Willow

I’d knownit was him from the moment his tires crunched in the driveway: Carter. My ex. The guy who’d treated me like garbage foryears.

And I knew one other thing: there was no way in hell I was going to let him disturb the life I’d built here.

The screen door creaked behind me as I stepped out onto the porch, Rhett on my heels, the hem of his shirt brushing the tops of my bare thighs. My legs were still sticky with arousal, hair wild, but my heart?

My heart was calm, pulse steady.