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

Chapter 18

18

Excuse me while I hyperventilate.

Pretending I’m unflappable and unaffected, I slip into the passenger seat and hook my seatbelt. But telling myself not to imagine kissing Noah is a lost cause when we’re trapped in a vehicle together. His SUV smells like him—like his soap or deodorant or whatever is responsible for that clean, fresh scent.

I remember the feeling of his lips grazing my earlobe, and my skin tingles with anticipation.

But instead of dwelling on whether I’m finally going to kiss Noah tonight, I force myself to focus on the only other thing my brain wants to latch onto.

“Vampires can’t go out in the middle of the day unless there’s heavy cloud cover,” I say when we’re pulling onto the road. “But Cassian did. How?”

Noah’s good mood fades. Apparently, he’s not interested in talking about the vampire. “They’re experimenting with a few new daylight drugs at one of our research centers in California. Cassian signed himself up as a guinea pig.”

“If he wants to eradicate vampirism, why does he aid with that sort of research?”

“He wants vampires to live as human a life as possible.”

“It seems like you know him well—he even called you Noah—but neither of you were particularly friendly.”

“We were at one time, but I don’t like his methods, or that he has so many connections—he knows someone in almost every imaginable profession, in almost every state. And he’s good friends with the director who resides over the western region of NIHA, and he’s been using his money and influence to push his agenda for the last fifty years. Our organization relies on government funding and donations, so…”

I nod, trying to wrap my head around the fact the man is far older than he looks. “I understand.”

Noah’s finger twitches on the steering wheel. “And I don’t like that you’re connected to him.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s the type to go around making monsters. How could I possibly be from his line?”

“It would be rare for a vampire his age to have a skeleton-free closet.”

“How old is he?”

“He was born in the 1700s.”

“He looks good for his age,” I joke nervously.

Noah grunts, watching the road. It’s obvious he’s done talking about Cassian.

I don’t ask him anything else, but a question continues to burn inside me: how am I connected to this elite, philanthropist vampire? And is he going to kill me because of it?

I stare at the contents of my closet, feeling like I didn’t prepare for a test. But instead of a test, it’s a maybe-date with Noah.

If my outfit is too casual, he won’t think I’m interested. If it’s too nice, he’ll think I’m too interested.

I walk down the hall and knock on the closed door. “What are you wearing?”

A minute later, Noah appears. He rests a sculpted arm on the doorframe, taking up a good deal of it, and smiles down at me with partially hooded eyes. His hair is dark and damp because he just took a shower.

I look like a drowned rat when my hair is wet. Noah looks like a victorious gladiator who just emerged from some elite Roman bathhouse.

The man is delicious. I feel small next to him, and for unknown reasons, my body likes that. Sure, I’m a strong, mostly independent, kinda-capable woman, but every inch of me wants to know what it would feel like to have him carry me off into the sunset.

“What I’m wearing?” He lifts an eyebrow. “That game is usually played over the phone.”

“I meant tonight.”

“Are you agonizing over your outfit on my behalf?”

“No. I just, you know, don’t want to make you look bad.”

A smile stretches across his smug face. “That’s considerate of you.”

“I try.”

He lifts his brows suggestively and lowers his voice. “What do you want me to wear?”

“This conversation is getting weirder than I anticipated.”

Chuckling, he steps away from the doorway and extends his arm, inviting me in. “As you can see, my options are limited. If you want to go somewhere nice, we’ll have to stop at my parents’ place first so I can change.”

“And even weirder. Remind me not to friend-date a grown man who lives with his parents again.” I walk into his room, and my eyes catch on the bed. The bed Noah slept in last night. The bed I used to sleep in when I’d spend the night here.

Noah chuckles, crossing his arms as he watches me.

Pretending his presence in my home isn’t messing with me, I open the closet door. He gave me permission to snoop, so I’m going to do it. I make a tsking noise, shaking my head. “All you brought is T-shirts.”

“I like T-shirts,” Noah says from behind me. “They’re comfortable.”

I thumb through the few hangers. “What else do you like?”

“Narrow the question down a bit.”

“Favorite zoo animal?”

“Starting with the really important questions, I see.”

“Instead, you could tell me about your deepest, darkest fear and how you plan to overcome it.”

“I like monkeys.”

I flash him a grin over my shoulder, and then I cringe. “Monkeys, though? Ew.”

He laughs. “You’re a judgy flower farmer.”

“Favorite food?” I go back to his closet, pretending to look through the options again.

“Steak.”

“That’s why you cook it so well.” I nearly jump when his knuckle grazes the curve of my side. “Not cucumbers?”

“I’m sure they’re a close second.” He runs his knuckle down to the waistband of my jeans and then brings it back up again, stopping at my bottom rib.

“Liar,” I breathe. I’m frozen in place, desperate for him to press his hand flat against my waist so I can feel his firm grip.

“Ask me something else,” he says, his voice deeper. He lowers his head until his lips are bare centimeters from my neck.

I swallow, knowing I’m one decision away from being in his arms. “Why didn’t you like me when we first met?”

He chuckles, his breath feathering over my skin and making goosebumps rise on my arms. “Because Britta was being pushy, and it annoyed me you were as pretty as she said you were.”

I turn to face him. “You think I’m pretty?”

“You’re all right,” he says with a crooked smile, having the audacity to shrug. “But you were downright hot the day I showed up with your steak and sparkling water—” He laughs as he doubles over, recovering from the sharp jab of my elbow in his stomach.

“I’m not dressing up for you,” I say as I walk out of his room. “Wear whatever you want.”

But fifteen minutes later, I leave my room in heels. They’re sandals, cheap but cute as heck, and they look amazing with my black eyelet summer dress. My outfit is a step up from casual, but not fussy. I hope Noah likes it.

He waits for me downstairs. I walk down the last step and hold my breath.

Noah looks up from his phone when he hears me, and his eyes flare. As he stares, his lips part, and his eyebrows creep up.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more desirable. The look on his face is worth the future foot pain.

“I thought you weren’t dressing up for me,” he says.

“Who said this is for you? I’m hoping we have a handsome waiter at the restaurant.”

Smirking because he knows I’m lying through my teeth, he pushes himself to his feet, looking devastating, as usual. He’s added his favorite leather jacket to his jeans and gray tee. “If that doesn’t pan out, you could set your sights on one of the college-age popcorn boys at the concession stand.”

I snort, walking across the living room and grabbing my purse from the hook. My nerves sing, sparking with sweet anticipation.

I don’t know how, but something tells me that tonight, things are going to change.

Tonight, that man’s lips are going to be mine.

Dinner is torture, and the movie is excruciating.

We’re only halfway through a lighthearted action rom-com, and I’m ready to drag Noah out of the theater and into a dark alley.

His hand rests on his knee, so close to my knee, but it hasn’t strayed. Neither of us wanted popcorn after dinner, so we don’t even have an excuse to accidentally touch.

I tense as he leans close and says, “Do you not like the movie?”

“It’s fine,” I say as the audience laughs.

“You want to get out of here?”

I swallow. “You spent a small fortune on the tickets.”

“I just wanted to sit next to you in the dark,” he whispers. “We can do that anywhere.”

My stomach clenches, and I slowly turn to meet his eyes. His face is lit by the glow of the movie. Something explodes on the screen. There’s exaggerated screaming, and the audience laughs again.

“Let’s go,” I say.

Noah’s eyes flicker with an eagerness that mirrors my own, and we rise, hurrying past people so we won’t block their view for long.

I draw in a lungful of mountain air when we step outside, acutely aware of the man at my side as we walk to his SUV. Noah parked at the far corner of the lot, and the vehicle is tucked into the shadows by trees and bushes in the landscape.

“Piper,” he says from behind me when I reach for my door handle.

I turn, drawing in a breath when I realize he’s only a few steps away.

He swallows, half his face shadowed and the other lit in the parking lot lights. His hand flirts with my waist, the touch a tease and a promise. “How do you feel about kissing a man on the first date?”

I hold my breath, wanting this so darn much. “That depends on how many friend-dates precede it.”

He laughs a little, bringing his hand to cup the side of my neck. “Far too many.”

I reach for him, drawing him close as he pulls me against his firm torso. He pauses an inch from my lips, holding himself back. His hand kneads my neck, and his breath smells like sweet mint.

“Are you letting me out of the friend zone?” he teases, his voice dark and gritty.

“I never actually closed the gate.”

He laughs and moves in, pausing when I expect the crush of his mouth. My gaze flicks up to his, questioning.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, his tone suddenly gentle and maybe even…

Is big, capable Noah nervous ?

My heart dances, and just like that, I’m filled with sweet, butterfly-fluttering anticipation.

I do as he asks, waiting for the press of his lips.

But our mouths don’t meet. His lips brush my jaw, the kiss as soft as a feather. He kisses the crease of my mouth and then the other side.

I slide my hand past his jacket, finding the fabric of his T-shirt and running my palm up to his shoulder. His muscles tense under my exploratory touch.

When he pulls back, my lips still unkissed, I smile. “You’re a tease.”

“Are you in a hurry? We only get one first kiss.”

“Yes, but imagine how many we can have after it. Let’s get it out of the way.” I open my eyes when he gently presses his lips to my forehead, giving him a wry look. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

He shakes his head, smiling gently as he rubs my tense neck muscles. “Tonight, it’s enough to know you want me to.”

“That’s not enough—not nearly enough.” I run my hand up to his neck, rubbing his muscles like he rubbed mine. “How about we negotiate?”

He steps back, away from my touch, and slides his hands into his front pockets. “I like you, Piper.”

My heart soars. “Yeah? Is that why you’re not kissing me?”

He lets out a soft laugh. It’s genuine, warm, and full of affection. “Yeah.”

“You’re okay, too.”

He smiles. “Wanna go home?”

“Are you going to kiss me there?”

“Not tonight.”

I sigh, leaning against his SUV. “Then not really.”

He laughs a little louder this time. “What if I cut up a cucumber for you?”

I study him, my heart happy, even if I am a little frustrated. “Yeah, okay.”

Like a gentleman, he opens the passenger side door for me and then goes to his side.

I think the drive home is going to be awkward, but Noah stretches his hand across the console and sets it on my knee, palm up.

Biting my lip, feeling like I’m back in high school and going on my first date, I slide my hand into his.

I can just make out his smile in the sporadic glow of the streetlights as we pull out of the parking lot, and I grin, looking out the window so Noah won’t see how giddy I am.

He interlaces our fingers, pressing our palms flush. It’s comfortable and a little surreal. I’ve never dated anyone as handsome as Noah, nor anyone as intimidating. But he’s started opening up to me, and he’s kind and funny under that gladiator exterior.

Though I panicked when I found out he was my conservator, I’m thankful for it now. I don’t have to hide my illness from him, and he’s not freaked out by it like other guys certainly would be. Maybe we might work. Maybe I don’t have to live a spinster life after all.

I’m so blissfully happy, I’ve managed to put all my other very present worries out of my mind…until I spot a familiar orange sports car in front of my house.

“That’s not good,” I whisper, icy dread washing down my spine.

“Who is it?” Noah demands, but I think he already suspects.

I squeeze his hand before I pull mine onto my lap and nervously twist my purse strap around my finger. “It’s Ethan.”