Elias' POV

After Clark orders something to eat, we continue to make small talk here and there.

I lean back in my seat and never stop watching him. The noise of clinking cutlery and chattering patrons of the restaurant fades into the background. There's something off about him today, and I wish I knew what it was.

The usual spark in his greenish-brown eyes looks dimmed, replaced by an emptiness that tugs at my heart. His movements are slow, as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders and it hurts him to do the bare minimum. All of this adds up to why I held off addressing our misunderstanding from the other day.

Evidently, on top of what other issues he's dealing with, he's taking it harder than I thought.

Should I say something now?

He reaches for his glass after finishing the last bite of his burger, takes a sip of water, and then sets it back down.

When our eyes meet again, he speaks softly, "I owe you an apology."

"I'm listening." I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table.

"My behavior the other day was unacceptable." He takes a deep breath, fingers fidgeting with a napkin. "The stress from work and things with Ava got to me. But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You're right, you shouldn't have." I keep my tone light, letting him know I'm over it. "I'm glad you came to your senses because I sure as hell wasn't gonna grovel for your attention when I did nothing wrong."

A flicker of a smile crosses his face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"I know. And I appreciate your patience with me. It won't happen again." He pauses, eyes dropping back to the table. "I was jealous," he admits quietly. "That's why I told you I'd overstepped. It's because I had no right to feel that way. I don't know what came over me."

Clark, jealous? Over Remy and me? My mind races at the implication, but I shove that thought away before I lose myself. It's dangerous ground we're treading, and we both know it. The terms of our arrangement don't allow for... whatever the hell this is between us.

I force a playful grin. "The great Clark Ashford, jealous? Never thought I'd see the day."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I slipped out of character. Won't happen again, I promise."

"We'll see." Eager to change the subject before we get ourselves in trouble, I ask, "So, do you come here for lunch every day?"

"Every other day, if it's not too busy." His posture relaxes as we veer off the emotionally charged topic. "What are you doing back here?"

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink. "I've kind of turned into an addict since you brought me here. Oliver really knows what he's doing back in that kitchen."

Our conversation jumps from topic to topic over the next half hour, and we somehow end up talking about family.

"My parents want to meet you," I say, trying to sound casual.

"They do?" Clark's eyes widen, surprised by the sudden shift, but he rolls with it. "Why?"

"Don't look so terrified!" I laugh, reaching across the table to nudge his arm. "You're not in trouble."

"You sure?" He smirks, and there's a hint of genuine warmth in his tone that makes me want to lean across the table and—

Nope! Not going there.

"I'm positive. It's just...well, they get online from time to time, and they'll eventually find out about us. I figured we might as well get this out of the way now."

He nods slowly, processing the information. "I guess that makes sense. But it won't be good for them to get attached when we're just going to end things in a year."

I shrug. "Who says we can't remain friends afterward?"

Friends? Yeah, right.

"Okay. If this is what you want, I'm on board. When were you thinking of doing all this?" he asks.

"Depends. When are you free again?

"Whenever you need me to be."

I feel my heart do a little somersault. It's just something about a man like him clearing his busy schedule for me. A simple gesture I shouldn't find attractive at all.

I really need to raise my standards.

"Perfect! My sister is coming into town this weekend to celebrate her birthday, and my mom's throwing a party at their house. Consider this your invitation."

"Do I need to bring anything?" he asks.

I laugh. "Trae apetito."

The thought of him meeting my family, of our "relationship" taking that next step, both thrills and terrifies me. How long can we keep pretending that this is just an arrangement, when every day, every moment spent together, deepens the connection between us?

Just as I'm about to swerve into a daydream, my phone buzzes on the table. I glance at the screen, and my heart drops as I read the reminder I set earlier:

Large arrangement for Mrs. Langston due in one hour.

"Shit, I fucked up." I slide my phone into my pocket and then pull out my wallet, fumbling with cash. "I'm so sorry, but I have to go."

Clark's eyes narrow with concern. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot about this huge order that I need to finish for a client. It's due in an hour, and I'm nowhere near done." The words tumble out in a rush, panic rising in my throat. "I completely lost track of time."

Clark stands when I stand, one hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "Let me help you."

"What?" I blink up at him, surprise momentarily overriding the panic. "Don't you have to get back to work?"

"I'd rather help you than go back to a migraine-inducing pile of paperwork."

I didn't have the time to argue with him, and I could really use the help, so I accepted his offer.

We quickly settle the bill and head out to the parking lot.

***

After we arrive at my shop, I lead Clark to the back room where I keep all my supplies.

He lingers close to me, eyes wandering around the organized chaos of my workspace. I try not to let myself get too distracted when he shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms that—for the duration of this project—belong to me.

"Tell me what to do," he says.

"Right. Um, she wants a mix of pale pink roses, white lilies, and a touch of baby's breath. It needs to be elegant, but not overpowering," I ramble, my hands moving on autopilot. "To start, we need to trim the stems."

He steps closer while I demonstrate, then he mirrors my movements, his hands steady and surprisingly adept.

We quickly fall into a rhythm, working side by side, our hands moving in sync. Whatever problems we had with each other before this, all that tension has since eased off, now replaced by the occasional snip of scissors and the rustle of leaves.

It's cute how hard he's trying.

As we work, I can't help but steal glances at Clark. He's concentrating on arranging the flowers how I showed him, his usually stoic face softened by the delicate task.

"You're pretty good at this," I comment, breaking the silence. "If you ever quit your job, you can always come work for me. I'll be the best boss you've ever had."

Clark chuckles, sending a shiver down my spine. "You sound surprised that I can follow simple instructions."

"I mean, you don't exactly look like the type who enjoys taking orders from others."

"Some people I give exceptions to."

We lock eyes at that, and my heart thumps wildly, urging me to lean into him...to touch. I smile awkwardly and look away before I slip up and do it. I force myself to focus on the blossoms rather than the blooming feelings I'm struggling to contain.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity later, the arrangement is complete. I step back to admire our work. I was joking before, but after seeing this, I'd seriously hire him on.

"We did it," I breathe, a smile spreading across my face.

"You did most of the work." Clark stands close enough for his shoulder to brush mine. "I just followed your lead."

I turn to look at him, our faces inches apart. "Well, thank you for helping. I couldn't have done it without you."

For a moment, we just stand there, lost in each other's eyes. It would be the perfect moment to share a kiss, to give in to the desire that's been building between us today.

But then, the bell upfront rings, signaling the client's arrival. I jump back immediately, the spell broken once again.

"That must be Mrs. Langston," I say, my voice sounding unfamiliar to my own ears. "I'll be right back."

With a last lingering look at Clark, I take the arrangement and head out front to meet Mrs. Langston.