Daisy’s POV
It’s been three days since the gunman shot up the florist’s shop, and I have been studiously avoiding a certain ex handyman. When I came back from the hospital to find him in my café, cleaning up as though it was just something he should do, I didn’t know how to react. The fact he kissed, me and I kissed him back has me in a tailspin. Then to come back, and find him in my space, his overwhelming presence following me as I tried to ignore just how aware I was of him messed with my head so badly, all I could do was get him to leave. That didn’t stop me staring at his ass as he walked toward the front door, nor my embarrassment that he caught me doing it! What is wrong with me?
So, faced with this huge issue, I’ve done what any smart, independent woman about to enter her thirtie
