Page 5 of Blood and Buttercups

No explanation, no apology, no “let’s talk about this” plea.

Silence.

To be honest, I saw this coming months ago. I suspected he was cheating on me. You know how it is—strange texts in the middle of a date, weird “appointments” at all hours of the day. And there was the smudge on his shirt that was definitely lipstick, even if he swore it was from his niece’s crayon.

Crayon doesn’t smear like that, and they don’t make one in that shade of tramp pink, even in the big boxes. I know—I checked.

You see, that’s what having a cheating boyfriend does to a woman. One minute, you’re perfectly sane, and the next, you’re pouring one hundred fifty-two crayons on your kitchen counter and comparing them to the stain on your boyfriend’s shirt. (Incase you’re wondering, I didn’t yank it from his body in a jealous rage. I told him I’d wash it, and he was stupid—or lazy—enough to let me do it.)

So, no, I’m not surprised.

Hurt? Yes.

Disappointed? Absolutely.

But mostly, I feel worthless. Never in my life have I felt so disposable.

With a sigh, I slam the Chevy’s tailgate and carry two buckets of flowers into the back door of a little family-owned grocery store. I have no idea how it stays in business amid all the big chain places, but the parking lot is always full, and I’m thankful for their business.

“Hey, Piper.” Britta hurries over to hold the door for me when I step inside the office. “Oh, those are pretty.”

I smile at the bouquets of roses that I prepped this morning—the first of the season. “Thank you. They’re blooming well this year.”

The store owner’s daughter looks everything over, pleased. “I’ll get your check. Do you want to set them in the display?”

“Sure.”

“Noah, come carry these buckets, will you?” Britta calls into the backroom.

“Who’s Noah?” I ask, though I don’t have to wait long to find out.

Expecting a new teen stock boy, my jaw drops when a man steps out of the back. His coffee-brown hair is trimmed short on the sides and slightly longer on the top—a no-nonsense, effortlessly stylish cut.

Probably in his early thirties, he’s a few inches over six feet and built like a lean, chiseled gladiator. Even the green store apron he wears over his jeans and white T-shirt doesn’t hide that this man is drop-dead gorgeous.

His expression is perfectly friendly until his eyes fall on my flowers…and then he frowns.

“Piper, this is my brother, Noah.” Britta beams at me. “Noah, this isPiper.”

She says my name in a funny tone, and Noah narrows his eyes as if it means something. Something not good.

“He just moved back home,” Britta says to me, clasping her hands over her own green apron. There’s got to be at least five years between them, but it’s obvious Britta adores her big brother.

Unable to help myself, I blink at him like a starstruck fangirl, slightly enamored. Noah, however, doesn’t seem all that impressed with me. He steps forward, wordlessly reaching for the flowers.

“That’s all right.” I instinctively shift away from his scowl. “They’re not heavy, and I know where to take them.”

He shrugs as if he couldn’t care less, and I hurry toward the double doors that lead into the store.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Britta says in a whisper that’s anything but quiet. “Itoldyou.”

It would be a horrible time to trip on the metal strip in the doorway, so naturally, that’s what I do.

Just before I make a spectacle of myself, a hand loops around my bicep, holding me upright. I glance over my shoulder, blushing all the way to the roots of my hair.

Noah’s honey-brown eyes meet mine, and his frown deepens. Acknowledging his extreme deliciousness, my heart gives an extra thump. Once he’s certain I’m steady, Noah releases me and turns back to his sister without so much as a word.

“Thanks,” I mutter before I hurry into the store, begging the doors to close quickly behind me.

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