Page 7 of The Death Dealer

They both winced.

Yeah, she really needed to work on her witty rejoinders.

CHAPTER3

For three entire days and nights, Soleil berated herself, mentally cringing whenever she thought of the encounter with Trevor. How moronic could one woman be? Her retorts had been absolutely painful. Sometimes, she wished she had the best of her other sisters. That she was beautiful and bold like Taryn. Flirty and fun like Vivian. Cutting and confident like Josie. Trevor would be forced to take her seriously then.

She’d lain in bed, spending countless hours recalling their kiss, her body burning with remembered desire. When she wasn’t wide awake, recounting every stupid word she’d said, she was tossing and turning in a fitful sleep. Her dreams were filled with Trevor’s strikingly handsome face and mocking eyes.

Frustrated beyond belief, she tossed down the romance novel she was reading and rose to pace the greenhouse floor. Due to her irritation, her plants drew back, shying from contact. Never in her life had it happened, and she hated that it did now. Her plants were her babies, always to be treated with love and respect.

Working to calm her mind, if not her spirit, she inhaled and exhaled. She’d almost reached a semi Zen state when the atmosphere around her changed. She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood there. His energy washed over her, making her shiver—and not from cold.

“What has you in a state, earth witch?”

“None of your business, Death Dealer.” Hmm, perhaps she was channeling some of Josie’s attitude after all. She spun to face him. “What do you want?”

His raised brows lowered as a wicked smile curled his lips. “You seem a little salty. Something keeping you up at night?”

Blood rushed to her face.

“No!”She denied hotly, mortified he’d guessed the truth. Her lie was too little, too late. And definitely too emphatic.

Or so his laugh clearly said.

“I repeat, what do you want, Mr. Blane?”

“Trevor. And you looked bored.” He wandered to the cushioned bench and lifted the novel to peruse the back cover. “You seriously read this crap?”

She snatched it from his hand and hid it behind her back. “It’s not crap! Kate Bateman is one of the best historical authors today. Her humor, her?—”

Trevor shut Soleil up with his lips.

Her beloved book dropped to the ground with a muffled thud.

Sorry, Kate.

Soleil wound her arms around Trevor’s neck and shifted closer, hoping he’d do something daring, like take her on that padded bench. After all, that’s what Kate’s dashing hero would’ve done. Together, they could create enough steam to obscure the windows of her greenhouse.

She was so lost in the fantasy that she nearly fell forward when he pulled away.

His brows dipped together, and his face was a mask of confusion as he focused on something behind her. She followed his line of sight, only to see fog rising from the ground, thickening the air around them.

Oops! Her fantasy had become too real.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“The plants need humidity,” she blurted. “It’s on a magical timer.”

Cringeworthy excuse, Soleil.

His confused expression disappeared, and he looked at her with something akin to regret.

She turned her back, not wanting to see his disgust for her take over. Never good at human interactions, she’d always lost herself in botany. And now, she wished she had a foliage-like ability to curl inward and protect herself from any outside threat.

Picking up a spray bottle, she considered using it to cool herself down, but it would be humiliating while he was watching. She misted the closest plants, moving along at a snail’s pace as she inspected the dirt, stalks, and leaves. With an added burst of vitality for each one, she continued to the next and the next. All the while, silently praying he’d leave.

“Hmm.”

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