Ethan’s mouth curved softly. “I get it. I haven’t been . . . practicing much either. The divorce wrecked me. And then my dad got sick. There hasn’t been much time for a social life. And to be honest, I’ve never been very good at this part. The wooing thing, I mean. Picking up on signals, social cues. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” It was Ashlyn’s turn to smile. He was nothing like she’d imagined him when he walked into the shop that night. He was charming and funny and kind. “You’re doing fine,” she told him shyly. “Wooing-wise, I mean.” “We can go slow.” Feathery little wings seemed to take
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oh! ok! we're doing this! great!
