Page 33 of Bed of Roses

Wincing because there isn’t a lot to do in this house, I say, “I have no idea.”

“Well, good luck with that.” She turns to leave, butwith a look over her shoulder, she asks, “Bring coffee in the morning?”

I nod. “And a donut?”

Her smile puts me at ease. “You sure do know the way to my heart.”

And with that, she heads out the door. I lock it as soon as it shuts and turn back to my empty house with a huff. I may be refusing to go back to bed, but I won’t let death rule my life anymore.

“You can go to hell,” I whisper to Neil Wordon, wherever his ghost is now.

Chapter 12

Cole Garner

When I seeher car parked outside the donut shop, my heart skips a beat. It’s a strange feeling, this new sensation brought on by just the thought of seeing another person. A person I happen to surprisingly like.

I spent the night doing push-ups until I couldn’t lift myself anymore just to clear my head. But, no matter how many I did, she occupied my thoughts. Her wit. Her smile. Her body.

Shutting the truck off, I chew on the inside of my lip for a second. I have no idea whatthismeans, but my sister would have wanted me to explore it, to roll with it. I know she would have, can almost hear her little voice telling me to do it. So, when I finally went to bed last night, I decided to heed my dead sister’s wishes and give in a little . . . to whatever this is.

Hopping out of my truck, I head inside the shop. I stillhaven’t bought a coffee machine, but after the coffee yesterday morning, I craved it today.

My heart leaps again because I see Tegan right away. She’s standing at the register, laughing with the owner of the shop as she gathers Tegan’s order. Her laughter is like music, just like the sound of her moans.

This donut shop has been here since I was a child, but my foster parents never treated us to it. Thankfully, the owner took pity on us, and if we stopped by after school, she’d give us a day-old cookie to share. We’d eat it quickly, even before we left the shop, so that our fosters never found out that we were given handouts.

They were fond memories then, ones I held onto as I lived in prison, but now that I’m out, I realize how much bullshit they were. We deserved better.Shedeserved better.

Tegan is wearing another tank top today, but I can tell by the outline along her back that she’s also wearing a bra this time. For a second, I let myself remember what she looked like without it. Standing before me, no shirt, no bra. Eyes hooded and full of lust.

My eyes lower to her jean-clad ass, remembering how her ass moved in my palms with each thrust.

She must feel eyes on her because she turns, and when she sees me, she smiles in greeting. I approach with a small smile of my own, but it fades when I take in her features. She has dark circles under her eyes, and as I get closer, her smile turns into a tired one, shaky around the corners.

“Here’s your coffee, dear,” the owner says. Tegan shifts her upper torso and thanks her, picking up both coffees and a white paper bag of donuts with the shop’s logo stamped on the side.

The owner looks at me expectantly, so I raise a finger and say, “One coffee. Black.”

As soon as she gets to work, I turn my attention to Tegan with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” she asks with a lick of her lips. For a second, her eyes roam my chest appreciatively. I’m wearing another cut-off, and it shows some of my chest. I hadn’t missed when she checked me out in the hardware store, and though I didn’t wear this for her, I’m glad I did. I’d tease her for her visual exploration if she didn’t look so damn exhausted.

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

She raises her gaze to mine and blinks tiredly before sighing. “I just need coffee.”

Concerned, I reach and brush the back of my knuckles against her cheek. It was almost instinctual – to touch her. And I know I made the right move when she leans into it and exhales slowly. That one action, that little lean, makes my stomach do flip-flops. I have the urge to rub at the sensation, but instead, I ask, “Is this about yesterday?”

A scowl lowers her eyebrows into her blue eyes. “Like,whatwe did?” I nod and glance at her neck. There are no bruises. It wasn’t my intention to leave permanent marks, so I’m relieved when I find none. However, I do miss the red prints. Daydream about them, in fact.

She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. That was . . .” She pauses to peek up with a grin. “More than I imagined.”

I smile with her. “What were you expecting?”

“Well, for starters, I just wanted to go into the day trying to be your friend.” She takes a sip of her coffee to hide the laugh bubbling up in her chest.

I laugh for her. “Sorry.”

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