Blog Tour & Giveaway: Eight Years Gone by Cate Beauman @CateBeauman

Grace hugged Christy again before her friend left.
“Okay,” she said as she set her bag on her chair, then closed her laptop, setting the computer in its designated compartment as she ran through her mental checklist.
She needed to get over to the shop and get orders filled. New photos had to be taken for Instagram. Then she needed to contact their supplier…
Her thoughts vanished as she glanced across the street.
The hand she’d lifted to slide her hair behind her ear fell to her side as she stared at Jagger leaning against the Stingray’s driver’s side door as he sat parallel parked in one of the metered parking spots.
He wore a navy-blue tank top and khaki cargo shorts. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as he crossed powerful arms at his chest. Gorgeous and dangerous.
“Oh, God,” she shuddered out, barely remembering to grab her laptop bag before she walked to the door and stepped outside, moving down the sidewalk instead of crossing the street to talk to the man who was supposed to be anywhere but there.
She glanced over her shoulder, muttering a curse when she realized he was right behind her.
With his next step, he fell into pace beside her.
She hesitated, then moved faster, wishing like crazy that she hadn’t left her Sorento at the shop. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? Because this wasn’t supposed to be happening. “What are you doing here, Jagger?”
“What are you doing here?”
She stopped in her tracks, clutching the strap of her bag as she faced him. “I live here. I work here.”
“What about photography? What about your pictures?”
She huffed out a laugh at his out-of-left-field question. Since when did he give a damn about her career path? Since when did he care about her at all? “Go away, Jagger.”
She hurried up the one step to her aunt’s flower shop, shutting the door before he could follow. “We’re closed,” she said, staring into his aviator lenses through the panel of glass, twisting the lock into place with trembling fingers.
She closed her eyes, then opened them, blinking when she realized he was gone.
“Why is this happening?” she whispered, resting her back against the doorframe as she pressed a hand to her jittery stomach.
She peeked over her shoulder again, relieved that he was still gone.
“Is that you, honey?” Aunt Maggie called from the back.
Grace slid clammy palms over her pants, smoothing herself out. “Um, yup. I’ll be right there.”
“Good. We’ve got some pretty ones back here today. The dahlias are— Oh my word!”
“What?” Grace pushed off the door, hustling toward the back as the surprise in Aunt Maggie’s voice registered. “What’s wrong?”
Grace clenched her jaw when she stopped in the doorway, having forgotten that Jagger knew his way around the place. The alleyway door was always open for delivery and flower processing in the morning. He’d helped with the flowers numerous times during their summer vacations.