Blood and Buttercups (A Vampire’s Guide to Gardening #1)

Chapter 2

2

What have I done?

I made a date with a complete stranger. Sure, Ethan seems nice enough, but what if he’s an axe murderer?

It’s the nice ones you have to watch out for. For example, Kevin seemed nice, and see how that worked out?

I stare at my phone, ready to heave it across the street. It’s been over twelve hours, and Kevin hasn’t texted. Not once.

No explanation, no apology, no “let’s talk about this” plea.

Silence.

To be honest, I saw this coming months ago. I suspected he was cheating on me. You know how it is—strange texts in the middle of a date, weird “appointments” at all hours of the day. And there was the smudge on his shirt that was definitely lipstick, even if he swore it was from his niece’s crayon.

Crayon doesn’t smear like that, and they don’t make one in that shade of tramp pink, even in the big boxes. I know—I checked.

You see, that’s what having a cheating boyfriend does to a woman. One minute, you’re perfectly sane, and the next, you’re pouring one hundred fifty-two crayons on your kitchen counter and comparing them to the stain on your boyfriend’s shirt. (In case you’re wondering, I didn’t yank it from his body in a jealous rage. I told him I’d wash it, and he was stupid—or lazy—enough to let me do it.)

So, no, I’m not surprised.

Hurt? Yes.

Disappointed? Absolutely.

But mostly, I feel worthless. Never in my life have I felt so disposable.

With a sigh, I slam the Chevy’s tailgate and carry two buckets of flowers into the back door of a little family-owned grocery store. I have no idea how it stays in business amid all the big chain places, but the parking lot is always full, and I’m thankful for their business.

“Hey, Piper.” Britta hurries over to hold the door for me when I step inside the office. “Oh, those are pretty.”

I smile at the bouquets of roses that I prepped this morning—the first of the season. “Thank you. They’re blooming well this year.”

The store owner’s daughter looks everything over, pleased. “I’ll get your check. Do you want to set them in the display?”

“Sure.”

“Noah, come carry these buckets, will you?” Britta calls into the backroom.

“Who’s Noah?” I ask, though I don’t have to wait long to find out.

Expecting a new teen stock boy, my jaw drops when a man steps out of the back. His coffee-brown hair is trimmed short on the sides and slightly longer on the top—a no-nonsense, effortlessly stylish cut.

Probably in his early thirties, he’s a few inches over six feet and built like a lean, chiseled gladiator. Even the green store apron he wears over his jeans and white T-shirt doesn’t hide that this man is drop-dead gorgeous.

His expression is perfectly friendly until his eyes fall on my flowers…and then he frowns.

“Piper, this is my brother, Noah.” Britta beams at me. “Noah, this is Piper .”

She says my name in a funny tone, and Noah narrows his eyes as if it means something. Something not good.

“He just moved back home,” Britta says to me, clasping her hands over her own green apron. There’s got to be at least five years between them, but it’s obvious Britta adores her big brother.

Unable to help myself, I blink at him like a starstruck fangirl, slightly enamored. Noah, however, doesn’t seem all that impressed with me. He steps forward, wordlessly reaching for the flowers.

“That’s all right.” I instinctively shift away from his scowl. “They’re not heavy, and I know where to take them.”

He shrugs as if he couldn’t care less, and I hurry toward the double doors that lead into the store.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Britta says in a whisper that’s anything but quiet. “I told you.”

It would be a horrible time to trip on the metal strip in the doorway, so naturally, that’s what I do.

Just before I make a spectacle of myself, a hand loops around my bicep, holding me upright. I glance over my shoulder, blushing all the way to the roots of my hair.

Noah’s honey-brown eyes meet mine, and his frown deepens. Acknowledging his extreme deliciousness, my heart gives an extra thump. Once he’s certain I’m steady, Noah releases me and turns back to his sister without so much as a word.

“Thanks,” I mutter before I hurry into the store, begging the doors to close quickly behind me.

It’s just not my morning.

I hastily place the flowers into their stand, hoping to get out of here before I run into either Britta or Noah again.

“Hey, Piper.” Julie, Britta’s mom, walks up, beaming at the flowers. “These are gorgeous.”

“I’ll have cosmos in a few days,” I promise, already edging for the front doors. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” she says, heading into the produce department.

I exhale as I leave the store and step into the early summer sunshine. Unfortunately, I don’t get far before a man hollers my name from the door.

Slowly, I turn, holding my empty flower buckets at my sides like a milkmaid on her way to the barn.

Noah jogs across the parking lot to meet me, and…oh. He’s very fit.

And by fit, I mean hot.

Stupidly, undeniably hot.

Hesitantly, I say, “Yeah?”

He extends an envelope, not so much as a hint of a smile on his face. “You forgot your check.”

“Oh.” After juggling the buckets into one hand, I gingerly take it from him. “Thanks.”

Noah nods, eyeing me like he thinks I’m a flake, and then returns to the store. I stare after him, wondering how I managed to make such a bad first impression—and likely more disappointed about it than I should be.

Shaking myself, I turn for my truck. I have a date tonight. What difference does it make if the new bag boy at the grocery store doesn’t like me?

The restaurant is crazy nice. So nice, in fact, I wonder if I’m in the wrong place. I don’t come down to this section of the city often. It’s near several large, old hotels that draw tourists.

I step out of my car, double-checking my GPS. The restaurant is tucked into the side of one of the historic buildings. It has a striped red and white awning, and two old-fashioned streetlights flank the steps to the door. The entrance is beyond an arched stone bridge that crosses a man-made creek that flows to a fountain in a landscaped pond. A Japanese maple stands near the entrance, its red boughs gracefully welcoming patrons into the restaurant.

It’s the most drool-worthy restaurant landscaping I’ve ever seen, and it tells me this place isn’t cheap.

I glance down at my clearance dress that cost less than ten bucks after tax, terrified they might not let me through the door.

As I’m panicking, a burnt orange car pulls into the covered valet parking area behind me, catching my attention. I have no idea what it is, but it looks ridiculously expensive. The windows are deeply tinted, the wheels are shiny, and the paint is flawless.

I watch the valets scurry to the driver’s side, practically fighting to be the one who gets there first.

And I can’t help it—I want to see who steps out. Shaded by the overhead canopy of tree leaves, I pause on my way to the door, opening my purse to search for lip balm.

As soon as I find it, the door opens, pivoting up instead of out, and the driver steps into view. The lip balm slips from my fingers, and the tube rolls along the ground and lands in the artificial creek with a gentle plop.

I’m not usually this clumsy, but that’s just how this week is going.

Ethan meets my eyes as he tosses a lucky attendant the keys and steps around the car, looking like he bathed in money.

His suit is black and crisp, and his shoes are shiny. As usual, he wears his blond hair in a sleek tail, and I’m thankful for it. I don’t know if I’d recognize him otherwise.

“Hello, Piper,” he says when he joins me, smiling pleasantly.

I stare at him, at a loss for words. What is this man doing with me?

“Tell me the truth. Is this an elaborate plot to knock me out and sell me for my organs?” I find myself saying, much to Ethan’s amusement. “Did you pay for that car with stolen kidneys?”

I say it like it’s a joke, but…

“I have no interest in your vital organs,” he answers, his voice thick with amusement. “You look lovely.”

“You do, too,” I say warily.

Smiling, Ethan extends his hand toward the door. “After you.”

The inside of the restaurant is just as fancy as the outside. A hostess smiles at Ethan when we step through the door. Without asking a single question, she leads us around the corner and into the dark room.

Most of the tables are full. There are women bedecked in diamonds and men wearing suits that look as expensive as Ethan’s. One entire wall appears to be a solid sheet of rock, and water cascades over its front like a very tidy waterfall.

A group of men in the corner catches my attention. Noticing, Ethan takes my elbow and guides me forward. Under his breath, he says, “They don’t like it when you look at them too closely.”

Startled, I glance back at my date, wondering what kind of mobster movie my clearance dress and I have landed in.

Once we’re at the table, Ethan orders wine before I can tell him I prefer sparkling water.

I sit back in my seat, feeling acutely uneasy. “This place looks like it’s for the reservation-only crowd, but we walked right in.”

“I don’t need a reservation,” Ethan says, opening his menu.

“You’re a regular?” I’m not sure that makes me feel better. How many women has he brought here?

“I own the restaurant,” he says absently. “The filet is good, but the ribeye is excellent.”

He owns the restaurant?

I look down at my menu, realizing with growing trepidation that the prices aren’t even marked next to the entrees. “I don’t eat meat, though I have fish occasionally.”

Ethan’s stunned silence makes me look up.

“I never developed much of a taste for it,” I explain.

The truth is, just the thought of it makes me gag. Maybe it’s the texture, or the fact that it was once an animal—I don’t really know. I just can’t stand it.

Ethan looks as if he’s unsure how to answer.

“Is the eggplant parmigiana good?” I ask, locating the one meatless item on the menu. “Or the salmon?”

Bemused, he extends his hands in an apology. “I’ve never had either.”

“No? You can try some of my salmon. I think that’s what I’m going to order.”

I realize that sounds a bit too intimate after I offer, but Ethan looks pleased.

“Good evening, Mr. Brennan,” our server says when she arrives, setting a glass of white wine in front of me and red wine in front of Ethan. “Are you ready to order?”

“Did you decide on the salmon?” Ethan asks. When I nod, he gives our order to the waitress, and she disappears with our menus.

I run my finger over the rim of my glass, not sure what to talk about.

Ethan nods toward the wine. “It’s a 2012 Chablis Grand Cru Blanchot.”

I have no clue what that is, but I take a sip and try not to make a face. “It’s nice.”

“It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why order red if you like this white?”

Ethan takes a sip from his wine and then sits back with a sigh. “I drink it for health reasons.”

“I don’t know much about wine,” I admit. “I usually order soda when I go out. If I’m feeling extravagant, I get a refill.”

He laughs, looking genuinely amused.

I glance around. “I’ll be honest. I’m feeling a little out of my league.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Though he sounds sincere enough, the compliment makes me uncomfortable.

“You have to tell me your story.” I fold my napkin in my lap and lower my voice. “Are you a crime boss? A black-market entrepreneur?”

He smiles. “I told you; I have no interest in your kidneys.”

“Well, that only leaves one thing then.”

He laughs, sitting back. “And what would that be?”

“You must be a vampire lord.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You just went young adult novel on me.”

“So that’s a no?” I make a disappointed noise. “Well, there goes that.”

“My family is in real estate. I tried my hand at it, and I ended up doing well. I have multiple properties located across the city. This building just happens to be one of them.”

“Building?” I exclaim. “I thought it was just the restaurant.”

He smiles as he takes another sip of his wine.

“Exactly how old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-nine.”

He’s only a year older than me, and he has all this? Apparently, I didn’t pay enough attention to my high school counselor when she droned on about goal setting.

“What first brought you to the farmer’s market?” I ask. “I’m thinking it’s not your usual scene.”

“You know the Lexington building near the Columbine Meadows Art Gallery?”

“Yes…”

“I bought it last year. I was meeting with my contractors about a few remodels, and I happened to see you at your flower stand. I wanted to meet you. Once I worked up the courage, I found you to be as charming on the inside as the outside.”

“Ohhh,” I say, drawing out the word with a smile. “So, you’re a stalker.”

He laughs, shaking his head like I’m amusing.

Not long later, the food arrives, and we slip into a conversation that’s only mildly awkward. I focus on the meal, glad to have something to occupy at least half of my attention.

I take the last bite of my salmon, momentarily closing my eyes to savor it. Never again will I eat something this decadent.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say after we finish.

“It was my pleasure.”

“Will I see you again next Friday at the market?” I smile. “Or have I lost my shine now?”

“You still have plenty of shine left, Piper. And, yes, I will see you next Friday.”

We leave the restaurant a few minutes later, pausing outside on the bridge and looking up. Stars are just peeking through the twilight canopy above. With the bubbling water and soft landscape lighting, it’s a romantic setting.

The night is like a modern fairy tale, but my heart aches for a man I shouldn’t miss. This date was supposed to show Kevin I don’t need him, but all it did was prove he really doesn’t care. He still hasn’t called me.

“May I be presumptuous?” Ethan asks, edging closer.

“All right…”

“Would you like to take a drive? It’s a pleasant night, and it’s not late yet.”

“In your very expensive car?”

“It’s a Lamborghini Murciélago,” he preens.

“Of course it is.” I pause, thinking over the offer. Part of me wants to go, but the other part is hesitant, and not just because I’m hurting.

This sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life, and if it does, you’re usually on the news the following day. But Ethan has been nothing but nice, and there are worse things than driving around in a bright orange Lamborghini—such as going home to an empty house and wondering why Kevin decided I’m not even worth a five-minute phone call.

“It sounds fun,” I finally say.

“Really?” Ethan looks pleasantly surprised.

I choke back my reservations. “Yes, really.”