Page 128 of Imperfect Arrangement
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“Consider it repayment for all those morning coffee deliveries.”
I hang up, already heading for the door, when something pulls me back.
The sunflowers. The ones Quill and I now keep in the house, in every room, so we’re never short when we need them.
At the last second, I reach for one from the vase in the living room, fingers skimming over the delicate petals. I tuck it carefully into my jacket pocket.
* * *
I’m lessthan five minutes from the Ferris wheel when my phone rings.
“Please tell me you’re not canceling on me, DJ.”
“No, man. Not at all,” he says, a little out of breath. “I’m running a little behind. But you don’t need to wait for me. I’m texting you the instructions for the secondary entrance. We always leave it open. Just head straight to the bottommost cabin, and I’ll be there to start the ride.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Got it.”
As soon as we hang up, my phone pings with a text. I pull into my usual parking spot and follow DJ’s directions through the side entrance, my Berluti shoes crunching against the gravel. The air is thick with the crisp scent of night, damp earth, and?—
I stop mid-step, inhaling sharply. Tangerine.
My gut clenches, my chest tightening so fast it knocks the air from my lungs.
God, I’m so far gone for this woman, it’s humiliating. And she’s scared I’ll leave her?
If she were standing here right now, I wouldn’t know whether to throttle her for not seeing what’s in front of her or kiss her senseless to show her what she means to me. The scent clings to me, winding around my senses like a memory I don’t want to let go of. But I know it’s my own desperation messing with my head.
I stride toward the cabin, gripping the door handle and pulling it open?—
A blood-curdling shriek splits the silence. Before I can process what’s happening, something cold and sharp stings my eyes, burning through my sinuses like liquid fire.
“Shit!” I stumble, clamping my hands over my face just in time to avoid getting the full blast of what I now realize is pepper spray.
The lunatic inside the cabin is still shrieking like a murder victim, and through the haze of my temporarily blinded state, I register a familiar voice.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
That voice. That damn voice.
Even with my eyeballs on fire, my chest cracks wide open.
“Willow?” I choke out.
A sharp gasp. “Raymond?”
“Jesus Christ, Firefly, did you Mace me?” My voice comes out hoarse, strained between coughing and blinking furiously in a desperate attempt to regain my sight.
“Oh my God!” She scrambles out of the cabin, the sound of her movements frantic. “I—I didn’t know it was you! You scared me!”
“I scaredyou?” I choke out, hands still rubbing at my eyes. “You’re the one hiding in the dark like some unhinged raccoon waiting to pounce!”
She grabs my arm, guiding me toward the bench beside the ride. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m so sorry.” She digs into her bag and pulls out a bottle. “It’s milk. This helps neutralize the spray.”
I finally force my eyes open enough to squint at her. “Are you telling me that in addition to a goddamn weapon, you’re also carrying emergency milk?”
She has the audacity to look sheepish. “It’s oat milk.”
