Chapter 4

Itwist my hair in a bun and slot a pencil through it, tugging to make sure it won't come loose again.

The floor of my tiny studio is full of clutter—bubble wraps, stickers, packing boxes, and more than a dozen ceramic mugs from my Limited Edition drop. These are one-off designs, and one customer has purchased five of them.

After putting on my favorite instrumental playlist, I begin my work—scooping foam peanuts into the box, wrapping each mug with bubble wrap and nestling them between the foam, and adding my handwritten note. I finish every parcel with the shipping details on the top plus a colorful sticker, which I smooth down with my thumb.

Done. Now on to ten more of this.

It's one of my favorite mindless tasks at work. It's not as rewarding as the pottery itself, but it's fun and doesn't require much from me.

Besides, I don't have a lot of employees. I only have two—one to help me respond to customer queries and the other to double-check the order list and make sure we don't ship out broken or chipped items.

The bell chimes, and I turn to look at who just came inside.

Tristan.

My heart does a little leap at seeing him. His shift must have just ended because his hair is still damp from the shower. He scans the space and, when he sees me, strolls toward me with a grin.

He has a bouquet in one hand and a box from my favorite bakery in the other.

I wipe my hands on my apron and raise a brow. "You're starting to spoil me, so don't ever complain if I become a spoiled monster in the future."

He chuckles and kisses my forehead. "Never. Do you still have lots of things to do?"

I press the pink and white roses to my nose and inhale the scent. It smells a lot like love. Does that sound cheesy? Yes. Do I give a damn? Hell nah. "No. Why?"

"I'm taking you jewelry shopping."

"Flowers, an ice cream cake, and jewelry. I must have done a really nice job fucking you last night."

Tristan's nostrils flare, and he looks around in a panic.

"Relax, Tris. I'm the only one left."

He blows out a breath, pinches the bridge of his nose, and pushes his glasses up. "Jesus Christ, Bun. Can you not say things like that when we're outside the bedroom?"

"Why not? This is a free country, and I'm a woman allowed to speak her mind." Tristan groans, and I decide to put him out of his misery. "Fine, Tris. Where is this jewelry store?"

He takes out his phone from his pocket and says, "A senior surgeon told me he bought his wife different pieces from a jeweler on the outskirts of town. I saw the photos, and they looked like the ones you like to wear. You know, silver with stones and stuff."

Snorting, I prop a hand on my hip. "I will not be a kept woman. I am independent, capable, and financially stable"—he shows me the photo on his phone— "but I'm also allowed to change my mind. You know what, I take all of that back. Let's go. I'm giving you permission to spoil me rotten."

Two hours and three rings, one choker, a bracelet, and a pair of earrings later, I walk hand in hand with him. I sneak a glance at him, and God, he cuts such a sharp profile. The jaw so sharp it can cut me, lips I can never get enough of, high cheekbones, and lashes I'll kill for.

And he's mine.

The thought alone makes me giddy, and I have to stop myself from giggling and looking like a lunatic. That's how happy I feel. Then again, I've totally forgotten how attuned Tristan is to my moods. He'll pick up on it faster than I can blink.

"What is it?" he asks, squeezing my hand.

Smiling, I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek, now with a five o'clock shadow. "I can get used to this, you know."

"Where did that whole speech about being independent go?"

I tug his hand so he'll stop and jab a finger at him. "Never ever use my words against me. Also, it's nice to feel like a princess once in a while."

"You're no princess."

"You did not?—"

"You're my queen."

I smack his chest lightly even though butterflies flutter in my belly. God, Tristan may joke but never when it comes to his feelings.

He lifts my hand and brushes his lips along my knuckle, never taking his eyes off me. "You should get used to this. Where else would I spend my money?"

"Really, Tristan? Are we gonna pretend I don't know how much your model airplane collection costs? Or the airshow trips a couple of times a year?"

He smirks and pulls me in for a kiss that leaves me breathless, my knees almost giving way. "Damn, Bun. There really is nothing you don't know about me."

"I didn't know you had feelings for me. I assumed, but I wasn't 100% sure."

"So what if I said no to your indecent proposal?"

I pinch his arm, which is useless because it's like pinching a stone. "Then, I would've played it off as a joke, went home to Gram, and cried while watching ‘The Notebook.'"

"That's a seriously awful movie."

"Okay, we'll save that conversation for later, but did you want to say no?"

He rears back, like I hit him, and scowls. "Say no to pounding your pussy? Not a chance."

I pull his sleeve, darting my eyes to the nearest people, wondering if they've heard. "Keep your voice down! Someone might hear."

"Yeah, you started it at your studio earlier."

I give him the death stare, but he only laughs and pulls me to his side, and we continue walking to his car.

I cast him a sidelong glance. "I never expected you to be like this."

"Like what?"

"Like last night."

"What about last night?"

I gesture wildly with my hands. "All of it. I didn't expect you to be that wild … in bed or that good with dirty talking."

"Is that an issue for you, Bun?"

"No! I like it. I like it a lot."

"So why do you look like that? Like you're conflicted about something?"

"It's just that … we turn into different people when we're in bed," I say that last part in a whisper, barely opening my mouth.

Tristan just shrugs and kisses the top of my head. "That's passion for you. Tell me whatever you're not comfortable with, and I'll stop doing that."

"Bold of you to assume there's gonna be a next time."

He smirks. The ass. "Bold of you to assume I'm talking about sex."

"You are!"

"What if I meant us in general? Like you're not comfortable with me paying for your shopping and stuff, which is too bad. Vanessa did say she'd have a new jewelry collection next month. I would offer to pay, but…"

"You think I'm gonna beg for you to pay?"

"I never said that."

"You're right. I will beg. I love them so much, and they fit my aesthetics." Tristan's shoulders shake with laughter. "Vanessa is also a brilliant jeweler, and she's super nice, and she understands the look I'm going for. I'm gonna need to sell a hundred limited edition mugs and plates to pay for one set."

We've been walking for a few minutes, and I can already spot his Camry. This is just one of the things I love about Tristan. I can talk to him about anything and everything. He's never boring to be with, and I'm always guaranteed a good time.

And that's precisely why I was hesitant about making the first move myself. I was terrified of risking the easy camaraderie between us. I knew if I lost him, I'd never find anyone else like him. I could search the world ten times over, and nobody would come close.

"You wanna come home with me tonight?" he asks as he presses his key fob.

"Why? What's in it for me?" I walk backward, so I'm facing him.

"A good fuck and me eating your pussy until your whole body shakes."

My jaw hangs open. "My God. Who are you and what did you do to my best friend?"

"This was always me, Bun. I just hid those thoughts before, and now they're coming out of my mouth nonstop."

I flip my hair and pretend to check my nails. "Fine, I'm coming home with you. No need to beg."