Page 12 of His to Haunt

But it’s not.

This place was Rachel’s to give. I’m here rightfully, whether he likes it or not.

“Ready,” I announce, but he doesn’t look back at me before descending the stairs and following a pathway that cuts through the tall hedges. Gee, thanks for waiting. I skip to catch up. This guy has no manners whatsoever.

The ground-lit hedges lean high and narrow as we wind deeper into the hedge maze, with plants and flowers blowing in the wind where the hedges open to a fountain. The storm is close, and I’m not thrilled about being out here and with Zand.

“Hey, what are you showing me exactly? I’d rather not get caught in the rain.”

He glances at me. “Almost there.”

He is so tall and sure of himself in his long-legged stride like this is his turf, and he knows it. But I have the difficult task of asserting myself in this situation, albeit with no frame of context to pull from. This whole thing is a new can of worms for me. Can we say, awkward as hell?

Something catches my eye, and I slow my steps, pausing on a big round stand of moonlit dark purple and orange lilies. If ever there were a Halloween mascot flower, this would be it. The impulse to smell them takes over, and I dip my head.

“What are these called, Zand? So pretty, mm.”

I lose myself momentarily in the pleasure of their honey, floral scent. When I lift my head, thinking that the man who keeps this wonderful garden can’t be all that bad, he is standing so dangerously close to me that even in the wind, I can hear the irritation in his sigh. And I can smell him.

“Forever Susan’s,” he says, impatient sounding.

I trail my eyes to their luxurious dark neighbors: the velvety all-black ones soaking in the evening light.

“What about those,” I say, pointing. “Did you plant them?”

He brings his hand to his hair. “Night Rider lilies—no. Mother planted those.”

“Your whole family lived here then?”

He drops his hand, turning away from the flowers and motioning with his hand. “Yeah. More importantly. See this line of hedges leading to the carriage house?”

I trail my eyes beneath the boxwood hedges along an overgrown cobblestone trail, cutting a direct path between both houses. But it’s blocked on both sides by potted plants and garden statues.

Zand snaps his fingers at me, and my eyes fling to him as if on command. Okay, that’s frickin’ irritating.

“See them, Leena?”

“Yes. Zand. What about them?”

“It’s easy to get lost in the hedge maze. You might find yourself popping out just along this path. If you do, be a good neighbor and turn back around. Do not cross this boundary unless you are invited. Got it?”

“Unless I’m invited?” I laugh. “What am I like a vampire or something?”

The edge of his mouth lifts, hinting at a snarl.

“Not just you, but what you might bring with.”

Huh? Is he honestly talking about my mom that way? Or is he slut-shaming me in advance for having company?

“What the heck?” is all I manage to say.

Streaks of light cast across his pale face, and his pupils look dilated, nearly engulfing the dots of blue at the center like sinking islands in a black sea.

“Just do as you’re told. No problems,” he shrugs.

I stare back slack-jawed. “That’s…not very neighborly of you.”

He looks me up and down, eyes narrowing.

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