Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Sure enough, when we get to her car, there's a bouquet of pink roses on her windshield.
“Huh.” She stares at the flowers like they’re a ticking time bomb on the verge of exploding. “I wonder if there's a note.”
“Do flowers usually come with one?” I ask. I’ve only ever sent my mother flowers, and obviously I include one to her. But I have no clue if it is expected.
“Typically.”
“So go check.” But she doesn’t move. “Damn, Scarlet, I have shit to do.”
“I didn’t ask you to be here, you know?”
“They’re just flowers.” I stalk forward and grab the cellophane wrapped bundle. Sure enough, there’s a card tucked into the blooms. I tug it out and pass it hey way. “Here, your note, Princess.”
Her hand shakes as she takes it and I can’t help but roll my eyes. I’ve never seen someone so dramatic in my entire life. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. What’s it say?”
“It’s… they’re from him.”
“Him who, Scarlet? I can’t read your mind, you know.”
“Um… it’s nothing.” She slips the note into her back pocket and snatches the flowers from me, holding them against her chest, trying to act unbothered, but the way her hands are shaking, tell me everything I need to know. “Th-thanks for, um, for walking me to my car.”
Scarlet’s shady on a good day, but right about now, she may as well be a hundred-year-old oak. Consider my curiosity piqued.
Before I can think better of it, I step into her, invading her space as I cage her against the driver’s side of her car. “What did it say?” I demand, trying—and failing—to ignore the way she feels pressed against me.
“N-n-nothing,” she stutters, clearly struggling with the bullshit she’s trying to spit out. “I promise.”
“Such a fucking liar.” I reach around and shove my hand into her back pocket, retrieving the note.
She fights against me, trying to shove out of my hold. “What in the hell, Ellis?”
Was your breakfast delicious, Petal? I long for the day I’m seated at your side. I know your mother will love me. How could she not when all I want to do is care for you?
I bet the only thing sweeter than your coffee is you. What I wouldn't give to taste it straight from your lips. Enjoy your day and know I'm thinking of you. Always.
I saw these flowers after picking up your bill. The color is a perfect match for your lips, pink and lush.
Until next time.
-Your Sweetheart
“Who the fuck is this from?” My question comes out more like a growl. What kind of normal guy says shit like this? It’s so far beyond creepy, we might as well be traipsing through a fucking haunted forest.
“I… um.” She hesitates, and I swear to god, I can all but see the red flags waving in the wind. Most women are all giddy when they get flowers, but Scarlet’s as far from giddy as you can get. If anything, she seems… alarmed.
Which has me feeling some kind of way. “Who?” I ask again, tipping her chin up so her eyes are on mine.
“I don’t know who they’re from,” she whispers, trying to look away, but I don’t let her.
“Explain,” I demand, because something weird is going on, and I am going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.
When she still says nothing, I press harder. “Who the fuck calls you Petal? Who is your sweetheart? How long have you been getting notes like this? Scar, I’ve got a shit ton of questions and you’re not going anywhere until I have answers.”
“I don’t know, Ellis.” She answers anyway, fury and fear warring for dominance as she stomps her foot.
“And you’re not concerned enough to, I don’t know, maybe try to figure it out?”
“Yes, because finding out the identity of my… I don’t know… secret admirer is as easy as clicking my heels together three times. Silly me.”
“I swear to god,” I pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to take a calming breath. “You are…”
“You can just leave,” Scarlet hisses, ducking under my hold. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Never stopped you before,” I mutter. “But seriously, Scarlet. This shit is alarming. Is this the first note?”
“No.” Somehow, that one, single word manages to weigh me down like an anchor around my neck.
“How many?”
She shrugs. “A few.”
“How many is—have you told anyone?”
“Just you.”
“Okay.” I process that I’m the only one who knows about this—not her mom, not Nora, me. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“If it happens again, tell me.”
“Sure,” she agrees easily. Too easily.
“I’m not fucking around, Princess. A note, flowers, candy, someone looks at you too long, call me. Promise. Promise me right now.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I promise. Can I please go home now?”
I step away from her car, putting some much needed space between us. “Please do.”