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“Because they’re soft and feminine and ridiculously romantic.”

He touches one petal.

“Like you.”

I nearly drop my keys.

“Okay, you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a business to run, and you’re distracting.”

His mouth curves.

“Then I shall endeavor to be less handsome.”

“That would be extremely helpful.”

“I make no promises.”

Lord help me.

I have accidentally brought home the world’s most dangerous flirt.

Twenty minutes later, Vidar discovers customer service.

And customer service discovers Vidar.

“Excuse me!”

I look up from the arrangement I’m finishing.

A middle-aged man in an expensive polo shirt stands at the counter, glaring at his watch.

“Yes, sir?”

“I ordered flowers for my wife’s birthday. They were supposed to be ready ten minutes ago.”

I check the order slip.

“Of course. The Henderson arrangement. It’s right here.”

I lift the vase onto the counter.

White lilies, pink roses, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

It’s gorgeous.

Mr. Henderson looks at it like I’ve presented him with a dead raccoon.

“That’s it?”

I blink.

“I’m sorry?”

“I paid a hundred and fifty dollars for this?”