Page 45 of Blood and Buttercups

He rolls his eyes and pulls one of the flower buckets from the truck, setting it in my waiting wagon.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I sigh.

“You said he comes to your stand. When did you begin seeing him?”

“About a year ago, I guess.”

“And he only just asked you out?”

“When he first came around, Kevin was usually with me. It’s just been in the last few months Kevin stopped coming.” Out of nowhere, my eyes sting, which is dumb. My stupid drug-dealing ex doesn’t deserve any of my tears. “And Ethan didn’t ask me out this time, either—I asked him. I’d just found out Kevin wascheating on me, and Olivia said Ethan liked me…so.” I shrug. “I guess I wanted to get back at Kevin.”

I feel like an idiot.

“And this happened the night Kevin died?”

“Yep. I texted him to break up, but he never messaged back.” I swallow, panic rising in my chest. “Probably because he was being murdered.”

“Do you know Ethan’s last name?”

“No, he just put ‘Ethan B.’ in my phone.”

“Hedid?”

“Remember how I left my cell in his car that night? He packaged it up and sent it back to me. His info was in it when I got it back.”

Knowing how bad this all sounds, I slowly steal a peek at Noah. He watches me, incredulous. “Did you tell him where you live?”

“No.” I pull another bucket from the back of the truck and place it in the wagon. “I guess he already knew.”

Noah closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose like he’s searching for patience. “That means he’s been watching you. Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

“I would have, but then I found out Kevin had been murdered, and I got sick…” I roll my shoulders. “And Ethan said he wouldn’t contact me again, and hehasn’t.”

I can’t tell him the rest—that Ethan is actually a vampire, and he was hoping to change me, probably so we could enjoy immortal life and madness together. At least that’s the conclusion I came to in the middle of the night as I pondered it. Though maybe that’s a bit narcissistic. For all I know, he was just hungry.

“Piper,” Noah says heavily, and darn it, I like hearing him say my name. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but maybe youshould tell me exactly what happened the night I found you at the gas station?—”

“I’m fine—really. Since it’s my first time back, I was nervous, but you’re here, and I’m okay.”

He frowns, his lips pressing thin.

“Come on.” I give the full wagon a tug. “I’ll pay you for your help with a turkey leg. They look disgusting—you’ll love it.”

Reluctantly, he follows me.

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.

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