Coming Up Roses

I knew her. And in that moment, I realized she always would come back, and I always would be waiting.

Because the way I loved her would never fade. And as safe as she was in my arms, I was safe in hers.

“You, Tess Monroe, are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. Every little freckle, every little smile. Every hair on your head and curve of your body—especially this one.” I gave her ass a squeeze with my free hand, eliciting a chuckle. “You are perfect. And I’m irresponsible and unreliable.”

I wanted to kiss Tess Monroe.

I’d wanted to kiss her the second she walked into the shop yesterday, wearing overalls and a Cure T-shirt. I’d wanted to kiss her as I watched her scrub the wall with her little face wrinkled up in concentration. I’d wanted to kiss her when she fell off the ladder and into my arms. And all day today while we painted the shop, I only thought about one thing.

I wanted to kiss her. And I was accustomed to getting what I wanted.