As Ethan opened the door, he was greeted by Lily’s stern face.
She was dressed in dark jeans and a fitted leather jacket, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail that did little to mask the storm brewing behind her gaze.
But it wasn’t just her expression that made Ethan blink. It was what she held in her hands.
A bouquet of red roses, slightly wilted now, crushed under her grip. A half-opened box of expensive Belgian chocolate, untouched.
Ah.
So she got the gifts.
Perfect.
But that smirk he was about to wear froze when she shoved the items into his chest.
“You must think I’m an i***t,” Lily said, her voice low and trembling with rage.
Ethan caught the flowers out of instinct, his bare chest rising and falling slowly under the soft white fabric of his wrinkled T-shirt.
The scent of
