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

Chapter 11

11

“That’s the last of it.” Noah zips the rectangular bag that holds the canopy and then hoists the strap over his shoulder.

The leftover flowers are already loaded into the wagon, with the empty buckets stacked. I did well tonight.

I survey my supplies. “I’m going to have to buy more butcher paper.”

“You put together a lot of bouquets,” Noah says. “Is it always this busy?”

“No. It was a good night.”

And I’m thankful for it. Missing four Friday markets didn’t do a thing for my checking account.

But money aside, the good news is the market ended five minutes ago, and I didn’t see Ethan all night. That doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t see me. Was he here, watching?

If he was, hopefully he saw me with Noah, and he’ll get the point. He can find some other girl to rule the night with.

Noah is quiet on the drive back to my house, but that’s not really a surprise. He has that dark and broody thing going for him.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” I say when I pull into my drive.

“I’ll come next week, too.”

“Friend-date number four?”

“Unless we do something over the weekend, and then it’ll be five. Maybe six.”

“You’re just trying to race to ten so I’ll tell you about my mystery illness.”

He chuckles, and I swear my heart is programmed to leap at the sound of it.

We get out, and Noah surveys my house in the dark. “Maybe you should stay with your brother for a while.”

“What?” I ask, startled. “Why?”

He rounds the truck and begins unloading buckets. “You have a stalker.”

“You’re a little clingy, but I don’t think I’d call you a stalker.”

He lets out a scoffing laugh, just as I was hoping. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not going to abandon my home because I went out with some creep. I’ll be careful though, okay?”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he finally nods. “Okay.”

We walk around the house and into the back, heading toward the cellar. The night air is pleasant, and I left the outdoor lights on so we’d be able to see without using our phone flashlights. But the light above the cellar must have burned out.

I feel for the door. Once I locate it, I push it open and turn on the inside light switch. “Watch your step.”

The fluorescent lights flicker to life, illuminating the space. We carry the leftover flowers and buckets, and I deposit my supplies on the workbench.

“You hungry?” I ask. “I have steak, steak, and more steak.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I yawn, exhausted from staying up late to read the pamphlets.

“You look like you need to turn in early tonight,” Noah says.

“You’re just trying to get out of cooking.”

He chuckles again, and I think that’s at least the fourth or fifth time tonight. We head to the top of the steps, and I flick off the light, leaving us in pitch-black darkness.

When I step toward the path, I smack into a hard-as-rock torso.

Noah’s hands catch my shoulders. “You have a lot of trouble staying upright, don’t you?”

“Only when you’re around.”

“I have that effect on women,” he rumbles.

I bark out a surprised laugh.

“I meant I make their knees weak.” He laughs, his tone slightly mischievous. “What were you thinking?”

Ignoring the question, I respond, “If that’s true, you could have warned me before I got so close to the stairs.”

He laughs again, but this time, the sound is deeper, darker, and oh my heck. It tugs at my stomach, making me yearn for something I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.

When was the last time I wanted Kevin to kiss me? Did I ever really want him, or was he just…there? We dated for two years, but did I even like him?

“Uh, Noah?” I say, my voice soft and airy.

“Yeah?” His palms slide down my arms, warm through the cotton fabric of my sleeves, the sensation amplified in the dark.

“I’m steady now.”

He drops his hands, and I miss them immediately. I don’t think I realized how lonely I’ve been—and not just this month. For a long time.

Neither of us moves toward the path or the light. We just stand here, existing in the dark, two near-strangers who keep getting thrown together.

“Hey, Piper?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you aren’t comfortable talking to me, but you need to tell someone what’s going on with you. It’s not healthy to keep things trapped inside.”

I know he’s right, but who?

“You realize how ironic that is coming from you, right?” I say.

“Why?”

“You’re all dark and broody and big and…” Where was I going with this?

“And what?” he asks, his voice like dark chocolate.

“You just don’t really seem like the ‘talk about your feelings’ type.”

“I deal with a lot of victims in my line of work. And that’s what you are—a victim. Whatever happened that night, you need to tell someone. Not me, necessarily. But someone.”

“I thought you worked in human resources?” I whisper, his care making my chest feel tight.

“My job is complicated.”

“This thing I’m going through…I’m not really allowed to talk about it.”

“Okay…but I bet there’s someone you can tell. And if all else fails, tell me anyway. I’m good with secrets. And I’ll help you—I swear.”

If we don’t leave this dark, cozy space, I’m going to kiss the man.

“Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s not on purpose, but you’re being all hot and tempting right now. If you don’t go, I’m probably going to throw myself at you, and that’s generally frowned upon while on friend-dates.”

He’s silent for several seconds like I’ve shocked him, and then he laughs once, softly. “Is that supposed to make me want to leave?”

Oh.

Heck.

My stomach clenches, and my heart beats faster.

His laugh morphs into a dark, self-satisfied chuckle, and he turns toward the path that leads to the gate. “I’m going.”

I follow him, finding it difficult to catch my breath.

“Lock your doors,” he says as he heads to his SUV.

I nod stupidly.

He pauses before he gets in, turning toward me. “Night, Piper.”

I lift my hand. “Night, Noah.”

A smile flickers across his face, and then he’s driving away.

He’s only been gone for a few seconds when I almost call him and ask him to come back…and then I realize I still don’t have his phone number.

I’m barely back in my house when my phone vibrates with a text.

Montgomery: Have you taken your prescription yet?

I groan, letting my head fall back. Dragging my feet, I head into the kitchen and pull one of the bottles out of the fridge.

“It’s not real blood,” I tell myself.

Montgomery: If you’re having trouble getting it down, try adding it to a smoothie.

“Seriously?” I ask my phone. Then I sigh, plopping onto a barstool.

Piper: Okay, thanks.

I stare at the bottle and then take it back to the fridge. Then I go upstairs to get ready for bed.

For the second morning in a row, I wake up to a text. But if I thought talking to Montgomery filled me with dread, it was nothing compared to this.

Bleary-eyed, I blink at my phone screen, a shot of adrenaline coursing through my veins when I see Ethan’s name.

Ethan: I saw you last night, but it looked like you were with your conservator. I hope NIHA doesn’t give you too much trouble. They usually stay close for a few months, and then they’ll give you some breathing room. I need to keep my distance while they’re hanging around, but I’m here if you need me.

Ethan: You looked pretty, by the way.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Panic is like an elephant on my chest. My knee-jerk reaction is to call Noah, but I can’t.

When another text comes in, I start to tremble.

Ethan: I know I said I’d give you space, and I will. But I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about you. I am still most devotedly yours.

What do I do?

I rack my brain and then finally make a decision.

Piper: What do I do if the vampire who infected me tries to get in touch?

I sit up, my legs shaking under the comforter as I wait for my conservator’s text.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes.

Montgomery: Do not answer. We’ll get you a new phone number.

Piper: Okay.

A few seconds later, another text comes in.

Montgomery: Are you all right?

Piper: I think so.

Montgomery: Are you home?

Piper: Yes.

Montgomery: Stay inside.

Okay, but for how long? I can’t hermit forever.

Montgomery: Have you taken your prescription?

I almost throw my phone.

Montgomery: Give me a physical update. How do you feel?

This guy is a lot of fun.

Piper: The text startled me a bit, but I’m doing okay.

Montgomery: Are you shaking? Dizzy at all?

I glance down at my trembling legs and don’t respond.

Montgomery: The prescription will help.

I don’t answer, but he stops texting. Filled with nervous energy, I get out of bed and start the shower.

Ethan thinks Noah is my conservator. Good—Noah is big, with an “I don’t take crap from anyone” sort of look about him. But do I really want Noah getting mixed up in all this?

I force myself to focus on things in my control—productive things. I need to work on my social media pages and website. I had to pause my subscription bouquets last month, but Olivia notified my customers, thank goodness, and only a few asked for a refund. Most requested I extend their subscription to make up for the bouquets I missed. There will be a lot of late summer orders—I’ll need extra sunflowers.

Speaking of sunflowers, they need to go in the ground.

I groan into the hot water spray, hating that I missed a month of the planting season. Thank goodness for zinnias, roses, and all the perennials I planted a few years ago. They’re going to carry me this year.

I’m just stepping out of the shower when I hear the doorbell ring.

Like an easily spooked deer, I freeze. Wrapped in a towel, water drips from my hair and down my legs, saturating the plush microfiber bathmat.

Again, the doorbell rings. I swallow, my heart racing.

It’s fine.

It’s fine .

It’s not Ethan. He said he’d leave me alone—said he has to keep his distance for a while.

It’s just a neighbor kid selling cookies or telling me she kicked her ball over the fence. It could be Mr. Droger complaining about my mailbox again, or Denise asking my opinion on flowers for her daughter’s wedding.

But it’s not a vampire.

I almost have control of my pulse when I hear glass shattering. And then my heart decides to stop beating altogether.

“Piper!” Noah yells from downstairs, sounding frantic. “Where are you?”

Startled out of my frozen state, I rush out of the bathroom and yell down the stairs, “Noah?”

He jogs to the bottom of the stairwell and then whirls around when he sees me in a towel. With his back facing me, he extends his hands in the air like he’s surrendering. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“You didn’t answer your door.”

“I was in the shower. ”

“I see that.” He clears his throat.

“Did you bust through a window?” I hiss.

“The glass in your front door, yeah.”

“ Why? ”

“Because you have a stalker. ”

“Yeah, I know. He just broke into my house while I was in the shower. ”

He barks out a laugh and then swears. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to get dressed. You just…stay.”

“I’m sorry,” he yells again.

Glad my bedroom is upstairs, I quickly retreat to it and close the door behind me. The man is insane.

I should definitely call the cops on him. I’m not going to, but I should .

I sit on the bed and groan into my hands. Then I stand, dressing quickly. When I come downstairs, I find Noah on the couch, arms crossed, the picture of discomfort.

His eyes flick up to me. “I’m?—”

“Sorry. I know.” I set my hands on my hips. “Listen. I like you a lot, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you can’t?—”

He raises a hand, cutting me off, and then picks up his phone like he just got a text.

“Yeah, okay,” I huff. “I’ll just hold that thought.”

As I wait, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. Since Noah is ignoring me anyway, I pull it out.

Montgomery: Have you taken your prescription yet?

“Oh my goodness,” I seethe. “NO.”

“Then march yourself to the kitchen,” Noah says, “because you’re going to take it now.”

Slowly, I look up. “What?”

Noah turns his phone, showing me the screen. I take several steps forward, and then I rip the phone from his hand. My eyes flick over the texts as I scroll, and I go cold.

“You,” I say dumbly. “You’re…”

“I’m Montgomery York,” he says wryly. “Your conservator.”