Page 21 of Lilacs and Leather

“I will personally oversee the survey on Monday. I cannot express how sorry I am for the delay. Lex—Ms. St. Clair will be informed, and we will look into this oversight,” Rhett presses from behind us.

I look back, and Wila is nodding with stern approval. “I’m glad that you’re going to be handling thispersonally, Mr. Cooper. And you won’t be trying to distract my staff while you’re here, will you?”

I choke on my inhale, turning away to hide my burning face in my hands. I still catch Rhett’s smirk as his eyes flick in my direction. Gabby’s shoulders are shaking with barely contained laughter. If a sinkhole opened under the shop right now and swallowed me whole, I would count it as a blessing.

“I can try to keep my distracting to a minimum, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Rhett says slowly, and I can hear the laughter in his voice, too.

“You better, boy,” Wila grumbles, turning to me. “Lydia, help Mr. Cooper take his flowers out to his car.”

I take a deep breath, trying to force the blush from my face by sheer force of will. I turn back around and find Rhett staring at me again. His expression is neutral, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. I pick up the arrangement, thankful that the cellophane hides my face a little as I walk around the counter. Rhett moves toward the door, taking his coffee with him. He holds the front door open for me, and I follow him to a black sedan parked on the street. It’s sleek, elegant, and just screams luxury. He opens the back driver’s door and takes the flowers from me. Our hands brush briefly, and a shiver races down my spine at the contact. After he closes the door, his gaze turns back to me, and I find myself unable to move again.

“I hope your alpha likes them,” I say breathlessly.

“I’m sure she will, love. Your work is incredible. Where did you learn to do that?” Rhett asks, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I blush a little and shrug. “I’ve always been good with flowers. I used to make my parents bouquets of weeds and wildflowers when I was a kid.” I laugh.

He chuckles in response, and silence falls between us. It’s heavy and my mouth goes dry as I inspect his face. He has a scar on his upper lip, visible by the lack of hair in his moustache. Up close, I can see that his facial hair is closer to red than brown.

“May I ask you a personal question, Lydia?” Rhett asks, breaking the silence.

I pull my eyes from his lips and meet his gaze. I pale a little, swallowing hard. I fight the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. He’s standing a full arm’s length from me, but it feels like hardly any space at all. I nod slowly, licking my suddenly dry lips. His eyes dart down at the motion, but they return instantly. His pupils are dilated, and his scent is shifting towards whiskey.

“If I were to ask you to join me for dinner tomorrow, would there be someone who would object to that?” Rhett asks, voice low and husky.

I blink at him for several seconds. I was not expecting that. “Um…” I try to form words, but my brain will not cooperate. I look away to gather my thoughts. My cheeks are heating again. When I look back, I let out a startled chuckle when I see that, under his beard and across his cheeks, he’s turning red, too.

“I’m sorry. I must have misread—”

“No, there isn’t.”

We speak at the same time, and it’s his turn to blink at me. I can’t help but giggle. “There isn’t anyone. I’m not bonded or seeing anyone,” I repeat.

The sound makes him relax a little, and a smile creeps across his face.

“Oh, well. In that case, would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow? I know this place we can go, and the chef owes me a favor,” Rhett says, his words tumbling out like he can’t get them out fast enough.

I giggle a little harder at his eagerness, a little knot forming in my stomach. He’s watching me with bright, hopeful eyes, the blue of his irises dancing with anticipation.

“Okay, yeah. Dinner sounds great,” I say at last.

Rhett’s smile widens as he takes my hand. I stiffen, trying not to flinch at the sudden movement, but relax again when he brings it up to his lips and kisses my knuckles softly. “It’s a date, Lydia Anderson.”

Nine

Rhett

I pull into the St. Clair Foundation offices, parking in my reserved space.It feels like my feet hardly touch the ground as I carry Lydia’s flower arrangement into the main lobby and up to the top floor. I can still smell her on the wrappings, and I feel almost dizzy. I flash a blinding smile at Erica, Lex’s beta secretary, before heading right into the office.

“Darling, has anyone ever told you that you work too hard?” I tease as I close the door behind me.

Lex doesn’t look up from her computer and the email she’s writing, but I see her roll her eyes. “Not everyone gets to take the weekends off,” she says, eyes scanning the screen.

“You could if you wanted to. You are literallytheboss. And poor Erica has to be in here too,” I chide with a laugh.

She finally looks my way, and her eyes narrow as she sees what I’m holding. “What have you done now?” she deadpans.

I scoff in over-exaggerated offense. “Am I not allowed to just bring flowers to a gorgeous, powerful, generous—”