Page 68 of Blood and Buttercups

I have six large carts that have four shelves each, all fitted with long grow lights. I only have a few things in here now, as I lost a lot of my spring-planted seedlings while I was sick. I just didn’t have it in me to water them, and I didn’t want to ask Olivia and Max to come over every day to check on them.

Noah wanders into the room, and I follow him. It’s a fabulous space that smells like sterile potting medium and happiness, and I breathe it in deep, glad I’m finally feeling well enough to enjoy it again.

“These are succulents,” Noah says, pausing in front of one of the carts.

“They are—the lone survivors of the worst May of my life. They don’t care that I didn’t water them.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I sell them in the winter. After Christmas, a lot of people are getting antsy to get outside, and they buy houseplants.”

“Winter must be a hard season for you.”

“Yes and no. I sell dried flower wreaths, make holiday arrangements, and I have the succulents. I also force bloom spring bulbs and sell those displays.” I turn away from the dead seedlings and lead Noah back to the hall, stopping at the doorway of the room at the end, right next to the bathroom. “And this is where you’ll be staying.”

It’s the room I always spent the night in when I was young, and I haven’t changed it much. Grandpa and Grandma left me all the furniture, and it has a quaint sort of charm, with the quilted yellow and white floral bedspread and ivory sheers over the windows. The painted wooden blinds are open, but I close them after I turn on the light.

Noah hovers awkwardly.

“What do you think?” I laugh to myself as I imagine him lounging in this sunshiny space, his dark hair and leather jacket against the sunflower print fabric. And then…then it’s not so funny.

Flustered, I brush past him. “The bathroom is the door just outside this one. I have my own, so do whatever you want with it. There are plenty of towels and things in the linen closet. And feel free to put your clothes in the dresser.”

Noah catches my arm as I try to flee, keeping me from escaping. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

My mouth goes dry, and I look up, meeting his honeyed eyes. “I’m not putting a mint on your pillow.”

Smirking, he takes my hand and deposits an envelope in it. “I stopped by the bank. Here’s this month’s rent.”

“Oh.” I look down at the envelope, pulling back the flap and studying the green bills inside. “I actually feel a little guilty now.”

“Why?” he asks curiously.

“We’ve already gone on four or five friend-dates. I should probably let you stay here for free, especially considering the circumstances.”

“And here I thought you were an entrepreneur,” he teases lightly.

With a heavy sigh, I offer him the envelope. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“As your friend, I don’t like the idea of some random man living with you unless you’ve established a legitimate boarding agreement.” He lifts a brow. “So, you better take the money.”

“Even if that random man rescued me from the worst date of my life?”

A smug smirk plays over his face. “That random man should have asked you out like his sister suggested, and maybe you wouldn’t have gone on the worst date of your life.”

My heart gives an extra thump. “You think highly of yourself. For all you know, a date with you could have been worse.”

“You think I’d rate below a vampire attack?” he asks, mock offended.

I shrug. “Your social skills are a little lacking. Too bad we’ll never find out, because you’ve been?—”

“Friend-zoned.” His eyes flicker with challenge. “I know.”

“Let me know if you need extra washcloths.” I turn, needing to put space between us before I do something stupid. “And don’t forget to close the door when you go to sleep. I don’t want to accidentally see you in baby bunny pajamas—it’ll ruin your big, bad bodyguard image.”

“No worries there, Miss Landlord,” Noah responds, walking me out. “I don’t sleep in pajamas.”

He then closes the door.

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