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

Chapter 3

3

After we drive around town for a few hours, going nowhere in particular, Ethan pulls up to a small local lake. A paved walking trail surrounds it, and there’s plenty of lighting for evening use.

It’s a romantic spot, with couples holding hands as they stroll by the water’s edge.

“Care to walk?” Ethan asks.

It’s the strangest thing, and I can’t put my finger on why, but I feel uneasy.

“I’m actually kind of tired,” I say. “I think it’s about time I call it a night.”

Ethan turns in his seat, studying me. “I make you nervous.”

“A little,” I admit.

“Don’t be.” He leans over, clasping my hand. His skin is cold, making me think he might be nervous, too. “I already promised not to steal your organs.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I just found out my ex-boyfriend was cheating on me yesterday,” I admit, resting my head against the headrest. “I think I’m still in shock. Nice as it’s been, I’m not sure I’m ready for…all this.”

Ethan nods, pulling his hand back. “Then it will be a friendly stroll with no expectations.”

I angle my head to study him. “All right.”

The night air is cool and pleasant, and the smell of freshly cut grass is in the air. It’s late enough that most families are home, so the path is quiet.

“How did you start your cut flower business?” Ethan asks as we walk.

“I read an article about a flower farm in one of my grandma’s gardening magazines when I was a teen. It went into detail about how you don’t need a massive plot of land—that many small-scale growers farm right out of their backyards.”

“And that’s what you do?”

I nod.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I do. It’s a lot more work than I expected, but it’s a wonderful job. Flowers make people happy.”

I ask Ethan more about his real estate ventures, and by the time we return to the car, that nervous feeling has somewhat dissipated.

We took long enough the parking lot is now empty, and the lake is quiet.

“What time is it?” I ask, realizing I left my phone in his car.

“After ten.”

“We should get going. It’s late.”

“I had a good time,” Ethan says, extending his hand for a shake.

I take it, smiling. “This feels awkward.”

Gently, he tugs me in for a hug. “Better?”

I nod.

We pull back just enough to study each other in the dark.

“I was going to be a gentleman and wait,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips. “But I’m not sure I have the willpower.”

When he moves in to kiss me, I freeze.

I haven’t kissed anyone but Kevin in two years. Kevin, who kissed Sugar Baby. Maybe others. Kevin, who isn’t even decent enough to pick up the phone to give me closure.

I don’t owe him anything. My loyalty, my heart—nothing.

With that thought, I close my eyes and let Ethan kiss me. It’s perfectly okay…though a little cold. Not emotionally cold, but physically. His lips are chilled. Maybe I was wrong earlier—maybe Ethan wasn’t nervous; he just has poor circulation.

Focus, Piper.

Just when I think Ethan’s about to pull back, he tilts his head and moves in for more. His lips become insistent. I wait for a spark of heat, something warm and welcome.

But I feel nothing.

The kiss isn’t exciting. It’s just different. Different lips, different face, different hands on my waist. When the guilt rises, I tamp it down.

I attempt to shift back as Ethan breaks away from my mouth and trails his cold lips down my jaw, but he presses a hand to my side, holding me in place. When he reaches my throat, I recoil, not ready for this.

“I won’t ever cheat on you, Piper,” he whispers against my skin. “I’ve been faithful since I saw you, knowing you’d eventually be mine.”

Whoa.

“Ethan…wait a minute.”

I try to tug away, but he holds me tighter, and emotion finally grips me—but instead of heat, it’s fear.

Panic tightens my throat as I struggle against him. “Ethan!”

“It will only hurt for a second,” he promises, and then there’s fire in my neck. The pain is paralyzing—unimaginable and blinding.

I scream, desperate to pull away.

“Shh,” Ethan murmurs, licking my neck before he loosens his grip on me. “It’s done.”

He says it in the same tone a nurse would use after he’s given a child a shot.

“What did you do?” I demand, jerking out of his arms, my fingers rising to my neck. I push back the high lace collar of my dress. “Did you bite me?”

“You’re fine, Piper,” he says calmly, adjusting his tie.

When I pull back my hand, there’s blood on my fingers. Suddenly dizzy, I sway on my feet.

Ethan reaches for me, but I hold out my hand, demanding he stay back. I reach into my purse, looking for a weapon. My hand clasps around a pencil.

It’s all I have, so it will have to do. I hold it in front of me, brandishing it like a wee graphite spear.

With a sigh, Ethan steps in. “Piper, listen?—”

“Stay back ,” I warn, extending the pencil.

He takes another step forward, eyeing my elementary weapon with distaste. Terrified he means to grasp hold of me again, I stab it into his hand.

And then I run, trying not to think of his howl of pain. I reach into my purse, fumbling for my cell, only to realize I left it in the Lamborghini.

My heels bite into my skin, but I can’t stop—I need to get to a phone. Every few seconds, I look behind me. But Ethan isn’t back there.

Finally, I reach a road with cars. I walk along the street, hurrying to the gas station that’s several blocks down. When I’m only a few yards away, the ankle strap breaks on my left heel, making me seriously question my fondness for cheap apparel.

Limping, I push through the glass door, and the electronic bell chimes. A man in his early twenties glances up from behind the register, bored.

I must look like a hot mess because his eyes fly wide. “You okay?”

Resisting the urge to touch my neck, I ask, “Where’s your bathroom?”

He nods toward the hall off to the side. I pass king-sized candy bars and cheesy knickknacks. My hand trembles so severely, it slips off the handle when I grasp it.

Once I conquer the doorknob, I make a beeline for the mirror. It’s dirty around the edges, and the glass is streaked, but I couldn’t care less right now.

I pull down my lace collar, gaping at the twin puncture wounds on my neck, and then swear under my breath.

Stumbling back, I push the collar back into place.

What do I do?

Should I go to the police? What would I tell them? That my date bit me? They’d advise me not to play so rough and get a good laugh behind my back.

No, that’s out of the question. I need to go home and disinfect it. If Ethan contacts me again, then I’ll file a restraining order.

I glance around the dingy bathroom and wash my hands for good measure.

“Can I use your phone?” I ask the attendant when I step out.

“Customers aren’t allowed…” He frowns at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I had a really crappy date, and I lost my phone.”

“Okay, well…just this once.”

Like I’m going to come in here asking to use it again.

I step up to the counter. “Thank you.”

He places the phone in front of me. It’s a dinosaur—the type with a springy black cord connecting the handset to the base. I stare at the buttons, realizing I’m too frazzled to remember a single freaking number. And why would I? They’re all stored in my phone.

The door opens as I’m standing here wondering what the heck I did to deserve this week. I look over sharply, terrified it’s Ethan, though I can’t imagine him wandering into a dive like this. But it’s not Ethan.

Britta’s brother narrows his eyes when he recognizes me. He’s ditched his grocery store apron and exchanged it for a black leather jacket he wears really well.

I cringe the moment I recognize him, wanting to disappear between the aisles. Pulling my eyes away from Noah, I turn back to the phone and stare at the numbers.

This man has a habit of catching me at my worst.

“Lady, if you’re not going to make a call…” the attendant says impatiently, though his tone isn’t unkind.

Slowly, I place the handset into the cradle and murmur, “I can’t remember any numbers.”

Noah flashes me a look as he tosses a coffee, a bag of jerky, and a candy bar on the counter, pulling out his wallet. “You’re that flower girl.”

“Yeah.” I rub my hand over my face.

“Bad night?” he asks, though it doesn’t really sound like he cares.

“Bad date.”

He collects his change from the cashier and flashes me another look before he walks toward the door. Just before he reaches it, he reluctantly comes to a stop. He glances back at me like I’m a scroungy stray cat, his eyes landing on my heel’s busted strap. “You have a car, right?”

Silently, I shake my head.

He glances at the phone that’s still sitting on the counter. “What about your cell?”

Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head again.

With a long-suffering sigh, he gestures toward the door with his coffee. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

So, the thing is, I shouldn’t get in the car with this man. I just did that. Lesson learned, right? But do I have qualms about accepting a ride from this stranger?

Nope, not a one—probably because he looks too put out to try anything. I hobble after him, muttering a thank you to the clerk.

Noah’s car is a sensible crossover SUV, so tame that I wonder if it’s his mother’s.

“Just a minute,” he says as he opens the passenger-side door. He tosses a duffel bag into the back, making room for me. He leaves the door open and then walks to the driver’s side.

I slide into the seat, letting out a relieved moan once I’m off my feet. I’m never wearing heels on a date again—you never know when you’ll have to run from a wannabe vampire.

Just the thought makes me adjust my collar, nervous Noah will notice. I’m mortified enough as it is. I certainly don’t want to explain that .

“What’s your address?” He opens the bag of jerky and takes a drink of his coffee, pulling up the GPS on the touch screen.

“My car’s at a restaurant. I don’t suppose you could take me there?”

He turns his head to look at me, his frown growing. Without a word, he offers me the chocolate bar, like he thinks I’m a spooked forest animal and food will coax me out of my hiding spot.

“No, thanks.”

“Doesn’t chocolate make everything better?” He gives the bar a little waggle to entice me. “That’s what Britta always claims. I bought this for her, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I shift in my seat, resisting the urge to draw my legs to my chest. “Not this.”

He stiffens, his entire demeanor changing as he demands, “Did this guy hurt you?”

“No,” I lie. “I just…you know. Some dates suck.”

And this one takes the cake.

I give Noah the address, and he drives to the restaurant. My palms begin to sweat as we get close. After all, Ethan owns the place, and he knows I left my car here.

We pull into the lot. Just when I should hop out and thank Noah for his assistance, I turn to him. “Could you follow me home?”

His brows fly up.

“If you don’t, someone else might.” I clear my throat. “And I don’t have my phone.”

Noah’s expression becomes suspicious, and I know he doesn’t believe the lie I told him earlier. “Yeah, okay.”

I give him a grateful-but-mortified smile and step out. My car lets out a cheerful beep as I unlock the door. It’s the one nice thing I own. My parents gave it to me as a graduation gift—before they found out what I decided to do with my life.

Noah rolls down the window. “I thought you had a truck.”

“That’s for work.”

He nods and sits back in his seat. I hurry, not wanting to keep him waiting.

The night’s events are fresh in my mind as I drive, making me jumpy. Thankfully, my brother left his porch lights on, so his house isn’t dark. Hopefully, Max doesn’t have female company because I’m crashing here tonight.

Noah isn’t giving off creepy vibes, but it still doesn’t seem like a brilliant idea to lead a guy I barely know to my empty house.

Noah pulls into the drive beside me.

“Thanks,” I say when I get out. “I hope it wasn’t too far out of your way.”

He leans out his window. “Don’t forget to call your mobile carrier in the morning and tell them you lost your phone.”

I nod, standing here with my purse clasped in my hands, wondering what he’s waiting for.

“Go on in,” Noah says. “I’ll leave once you’re inside.”

“Okay.” I give him a self-conscious wave. “I’ll see you ‘round?”

“Most likely.” He doesn’t say it like it’s necessarily a good thing.

My brother must have heard the vehicles because he steps out of the front door before I’m up the walk.

“Piper,” he says, concerned. His eyes move to Noah as he pulls out of the drive. “Who’s that?”

“His name is Noah. His family owns that little grocery store on Wildflower Street.”

“What are you doing here? And why do you look like you played in traffic for an hour?”

I push past him. “Make me cocoa, and I’ll tell you about it.”

Well…some of it. Max doesn’t need to know all the embarrassing details.