Page 53 of Violet

But I can’t do that to her. Violet isn’t just a quick fuck and dump kind of woman. Even if she wasn’t my friend’s sister, I don’t think I’d be able to do that to her. She’s gotten under my skin.

After visiting the battle-ax, news of my courting Violet spread like wildfire through Stitch. As expected, the socialsare delighted with what they’re calling “a trembling bud” of a romance. Which is exactly what we want.

The garden party is tomorrow, and I decide to risk going out for an early predawn run. There aren’t many people about, and with a baseball cap and ear pods, I create a private little world as I pound the path to full-on rock and roll.

When I’ve run for an hour, I cool down to a walk on one of the lesser used paths. A runner is heading in my direction, and even if I didn’t smell her, I’d still know her. The long dancer legs, the graceful way she moves…

But there are violets everywhere.

“Princess.”

She stops and almost stumbles, and pulls the pods from her ears, her hoodie still on, big hazel eyes wide. “Stephan. It’s a little early to stalk me.”

Shit. I like private Violet. A lot. “You’restalkingme.”

“No,” she says. “That’s just your ego talking.”

A beat throbs between us in the air, subatomic and everywhere.

“Oh, god. I’m sorry,” she rushes to say. “This is the only time I can sneak out to get some exercise, and I think my brain’s still half asleep. I didn’t mean it.”

“But you believe it’s true.” I step closer to her and lead her off the path to one of the overgrown willow trees.

It’s still predawn and in minutes light will start to fill the spaces, but I can see her perfectly. And she’s beautiful early in the morning.

She’s fresh, untouched by the day and all the worries it brings.

And there’s something else, too.

Violet seems free.

“I’m clearly hanging around Heath a little too much,” she says. “His bad attitude is starting to rub off.”

“It’s okay. In my line of work, you need to have a thick skin. Critics can be brutal.” I pause. “You know, when we go out or others are around, you’re the perfect little pleasing creature. Which could be hot. But you do it to make yourself small, to make sure everyone else is happy with no thought for yourself.”

She’s silent.

“You hide yourself away.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Bullshit.”

I snap my fingers. “That. Right there. Real.”

Someone runs by and looks over, trying to peek through the branches, but eventually gives up and keeps on going by.

“I’m just me,” she says and steps back.

I follow. “But that’s the thing. You’re you, but only a part of you most of the time,” I say. She moves back again, only to be stopped by the trunk of a tree. “With me, alone, you’re so much more. You’re funny, unexpected. I like that about you.”

“Is this where I stumble accidentally into your arms like in some kind of scripted scene?”

Oh, she has a bite.

“Only if you want to.” I close the distance between us and slide a hand down her torso. “I like this side of you.”

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