She doesn’t belong in my shop. Too polished. Too stubborn. Too damn tempting to be tossing ribbon around like she’s not standing six feet from an orc with a violent past and hands built to break things—until she gave them something worth holding. She fights me over shelf space. Petal choices. Lease terms. Says she hates the way I reorganize her flowers. Then blushes when I look at her like I’m about to ruin her and the bouquet she’s holding. I should’ve stayed quiet. Should’ve stayed away. Instead, I’m carving her name into benches. Brewing teas she never drinks. And watching her laugh like it doesn’t undo something deep in my chest. I was built for battle. But she’s the war I lose on purpose. She thinks I’ll let her go when the festival ends. She doesn’t realize I’ve already made her permanent. She thought we were going to share a shop. She didn’t realize it would escalate to a bed. Read on for flower feuds, forced proximity, filthy bench-building, and one possessive orc who never learned how to share. HEA Guaranteed!