Page 6 of Blood and Buttercups

It’s just not my morning.

I hastily place the flowers into their stand, hoping to get out of here before I run into either Britta or Noah again.

“Hey, Piper.” Julie, Britta’s mom, walks up, beaming at the flowers. “These are gorgeous.”

“I’ll have cosmos in a few days,” I promise, already edging for the front doors. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” she says, heading into the produce department.

I exhale as I leave the store and step into the early summer sunshine. Unfortunately, I don’t get far before a man hollers my name from the door.

Slowly, I turn, holding my empty flower buckets at my sides like a milkmaid on her way to the barn.

Noah jogs across the parking lot to meet me, and…oh. He’s very fit.

And by fit, I mean hot.

Stupidly, undeniably hot.

Hesitantly, I say, “Yeah?”

He extends an envelope, not so much as a hint of a smile on his face. “You forgot your check.”

“Oh.” After juggling the buckets into one hand, I gingerly take it from him. “Thanks.”

Noah nods, eyeing me like he thinks I’m a flake, and then returns to the store. I stare after him, wondering how I managed to make such a bad first impression—and likely more disappointed about it than I should be.

Shaking myself, I turn for my truck. I have a date tonight. What difference does it make if the new bag boy at the grocery store doesn’t like me?

The restaurant is crazy nice.So nice, in fact, I wonder if I’m in the wrong place. I don’t come down to this section of the city often. It’s near several large, old hotels that draw tourists.

I step out of my car, double-checking my GPS. The restaurant is tucked into the side of one of the historic buildings. It has a striped red and white awning, and two old-fashioned streetlights flank the steps to the door. The entrance is beyond an arched stone bridge that crosses a man-made creek that flows to a fountain in a landscaped pond. A Japanese maple stands near the entrance, its red boughs gracefully welcoming patrons into the restaurant.

It’s the most drool-worthy restaurant landscaping I’ve ever seen, and it tells me this place isn’t cheap.

I glance down at my clearance dress that cost less than ten bucks after tax, terrified they might not let me through the door.

As I’m panicking, a burnt orange car pulls into the covered valet parking area behind me, catching my attention. I have no idea what it is, but it looks ridiculously expensive. The windows are deeply tinted, the wheels are shiny, and the paint is flawless.

I watch the valets scurry to the driver’s side, practically fighting to be the one who gets there first.

And I can’t help it—I want to see who steps out. Shaded by the overhead canopy of tree leaves, I pause on my way to the door, opening my purse to search for lip balm.

As soon as I find it, the door opens, pivoting up instead of out, and the driver steps into view. The lip balm slips from my fingers, and the tube rolls along the ground and lands in the artificial creek with a gentle plop.

I’m not usually this clumsy, but that’s just how this week is going.

Ethan meets my eyes as he tosses a lucky attendant the keys and steps around the car, looking like he bathed in money.

His suit is black and crisp, and his shoes are shiny. As usual, he wears his blond hair in a sleek tail, and I’m thankful for it. I don’t know if I’d recognize him otherwise.

“Hello, Piper,” he says when he joins me, smiling pleasantly.

I stare at him, at a loss for words. What is this man doing with me?

“Tell me the truth. Is this an elaborate plot to knock me out and sell me for my organs?” I find myself saying, much to Ethan’s amusement. “Did you pay for that car with stolen kidneys?”

I say it like it’s a joke, but…

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