Page 157 of Wallflower

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Hopefully, you,” I reply.

“Behave,” he mutters, pen scrawling across the page. “Or we’ll never get out of the driveway.”

Pulling away, I mumble, “Fine.” Plastering a comical, over-dramatic pout on my face as I cross my arms and sit back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it up to you, flower.” Ripley slides the card into the envelope, flicking his tongue over the centre of the adhesive strip before sealing it closed. He’s not doing me any favours, showing off that sinful thing. All I remember is the way it delves in deep as he consumes me like a starving demon.

Shooting me a wink before he backs out of the Jeep, Rip waits for me to follow. Quickly, I try to compose my self, but my pussy is on a fucking warpath.

“Need a minute?” His stupid cocky grin sends a flush rushing through me.

“Yes, I need a fucking minute,” I snarkily mock, rolling my eyes.

He gathers up the bags, swipes the jug of coffee up from the ground, and backs slowly away. “Come on, baby, the fresh cinnamon buns won’t stay warm forever.”

Ugh, he’s right. That was the whole point of getting them hot and fresh from the oven, warm glaze drizzled over the tops. They’ll be impossible to resist mixed with the drool-wooly aroma.

I slide my purse over my shoulder, and exit the Jeep, closing the door with my hip as I hold the buns in both hands.

The monkshood that lines the walkway is starting to wither, and I debate whether to ask Ripley to get a gardener, or let it wilt and die. With Shantel gone, I may not need an abundance of lethal toxins hanging around. Though, I wonder if I could get myself a little greenhouse to grow whatever my darkening heart desires, just for fun. I don’t have a driving need to kill, like most psychopaths. It all started as a way to survive. To raise myself above the bullies and their abuse. Even if no one was the wiser. I knew I could protect myself.

The door to Bleakcrest swings open, and we step inside. The man standing guard has me pausing.

“Reid!” Ripley exclaims. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but it’s home. I found myself missing it after leaving.”

“Of course not. Stay forever if you want.”

“Thank you,” Reid answers. He looks so different, dressed down in an colourful oversized button up with brightly feathered parrots on it. The board shorts and flip flops he wears don’t match his personality in the slightest. His head turns slowly my way. “Miss Rose,” he says in way of greeting. The phrase sends a shiver rolling through me. Maximus used to call me that.

Suddenly, I realize the origin of my unease. He’s dressed just like his now-deceased boss.

Actually…I think he’swearingMaximus’s clothes.

“Hi,” I reply quietly, searching for my voice. “How’ve you been?”

“The break was nice, but now I’m glad to be back.” His tone is off-putting, eyes shifty, like a predator in the grass searching for something to sink its teeth into. What happened to him in that motel room?

“Well you’re always welcome here,” Rip replies.

Reid breathes in deep, smelling the cinnamon laced air.

“Can you show me where the kitchen is?” I ask.

“Of course,” he replies. Extending his hand, he takes the bag of champagne from Ripley.

“Meet you there?” I direct to Rip, and he warily observes me.

“Sure.” He pecks me quickly on the temple, before turning to leave, jug of hot coffee and disposable cups in hand. “Call if you need help.”

“You know it.”

“Right this way,” Reid says, gesturing through the lobby to the immediate right.

“Hope you didn’t think you were getting more money. You’re a grandpa now. Prepare to spend more than you make.” Bucky lets loose an awkward laugh as he finishes reading off the card, and Shantel barks a grating sound from the opposite side of the room. It makes Rip flinch almost imperceptibly.