Jackie nodded emphatically. “Seriously.”
Their normalcy cracked the tension just enough for me to breathe again.
I leaned back against the prep table with my heart racing. “What was that about?”
Asher didn’t dodge it. “There’s bad blood between the clubs,” he said. “Chrome’s always trying to push into our territory. They’re stupid but also trouble.”
I swallowed. “So… if we see any of them again?”
“Tell me,” he said immediately. “Any of you. Right away.”
Jenna and Jackie nodded without hesitation.
“Got it,” Jenna said. “No Chrome Warriors welcome here. Ever.”
The bell chimed again, this time bringing in a wave of regular customers like the universe was determined to reassert normalcy. A couple needing roses. A guy looking panicked and apologetic. Life moving on.
Jenna and Jackie jumped back into motion like pros, ushering people to the counter, voices bright and steady.
Asher stayed where he was.
Close.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, even though my hands were still shaking just a little. “Yeah. Just… startled. That guy was just… bad news.”
His placed his hand on my waist. “You don’t need to worry about that guy or the Chrome Warriors. You have nothing to do with our beef.”
I looked up at him then, really looked.
“I didn’t know your club had drama,” I said.
“We don’t,” he muttered. “It’s all the Chrome Warriors being idiots. But you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll handle it if they try to do anything to you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry, doll.”
I believed him and he didn’t need to be sorry. I could obviously see that guy was the problem and not Asher.
The rush swallowed us up after that, customers filling the shop, questions flying, hands moving constantly. But every time I glanced up, Asher was there, steady, watchful, and present without hovering.
When there was finally a lull, he leaned in again, slower this time, deliberate. “You good?” he murmured.
I smiled faintly. “With you here, I am.”
He kissed me then. Not rushed, not territorial. Just warm and reassuring, like a promise he didn’t need to say out loud.
And for the first time since the bell had chimed and the wrong man had walked into my shop, I felt safe again.
Chapter Eight
Asher
Juliet moved through the flower shop like she belonged to every inch of it.
She was at the prep table with her sleeves rolled up, hair clipped back, lips pressed together in the way she did when she was concentrating. Tiny, precise movements. Adjusting the angle of a bow. Snipping a thread. Stepping back to evaluate like she was judging a piece of art.
She’d told me she needed to finish “a few things.”
That had been an hour ago.