Don't Hex and Drive

I glanced at the offending plate of sweets. And yes, they were offensive. Because why was he cooking things for us? He seemed to be trying a little too hard, wasn’t he? A simple sorry would suffice. Or maybe he’d returned my bicycle? I knew he’d taken to have it fixed on his own.

“Are you here to deliver my bike?” I asked in confusion as I remained half in the kitchen doorway.

“Not yet,” he said with a little regret, taking a step closer. “I just wanted to bring over a little peace offering.”

My throat was dry like it always got when I had to deal with strangers. I mean, yeah, I’d met him and I’d given him a piece of my mind. I’d been pissed off the other night. But we’d handled it. Now he was back in my personal space, this stranger, and it irked me.

“There really was no need for you to come all the way over here from your hotel. I wish you hadn’t bothered.” And I one hundred percent meant it. Maybe ninety-nine.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” Livvy said, lifting the edge of the plastic wrap. Nutmeg and some other sweet spice wafted up to my nose. “Devraj is renting the house next door.”

I was absolutely positive that my stomach plummeted right onto the floor. I actually glanced down to be sure my organs were still contained inside my body.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

“Dev is our new neighbor. Isn’t that great?”

She grinned at me like Cruella Deville. I was sure she was about to toss her head back and laugh maniacally. Livvy and Violet were two of a kind. Evil incarnate. And there was nothing they loved more than torturing their sisters. Livvy knew this guy irritated the hell out of me, and she was gleefully rubbing in this new disaster of giant proportions.

And when had she started calling him Dev?

“Here, try one,” she said, shoving the plate toward me. “They’re delicious.”

Ignoring the plate, I narrowed my gaze on her wicked face. “I’m not hungry.”

Aaaaand, that’s when my stomach decided to growl. It was a complete biological response. I’d been in the greenhouse since breakfast. It had nothing to do with the absolutely amazing delicious-smelling treats right below my nose.

“Your stomach says otherwise,” said the stupid vampire, standing much closer.

I jumped. Then frowned. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I need to go finish my planting,” I said as a sad excuse to get the hell out of there.

Pivoting in my bare feet, I wandered back outside, feeling satisfied when the kitchen door slammed shut behind me. I wasn’t even going to admit to myself—yet—that I was definitely going to try the penda. When he was long gone. I glanced over at the house next door where he must now be living.

It had been empty for some time since our older neighbor, Mr. Harvey, moved to Florida. He left the house in the hands of his daughter who was having trouble finding the right renters. She was very picky, wanting only responsible professionals with fixed incomes. For which, I was extremely grateful. This neighborhood attracted both quiet families and loud party people. I didn’t want some obnoxious, loud person living next door, disturbing my peace. But I surely didn’t want that particular vampire living there either. No matter how responsible and quiet he was. Ugh.

I knelt down and pounded the dirt around my pansies, then reached behind it and yanked out a tiny weed.

“I see they survived.”

I startled again, my hand flying to my chest.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Vampires were known for moving so fast and quiet it seemed as if they appeared out of thin air. Devraj had apparently mastered that skill, and it was so annoying. He took a seat on Clara’s cushioned reading bench, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands casually between them. His hair was twisted in a man-bun today, revealing his face more clearly. His close-cropped beard highlighted the blade-like angles of his jaw and the soft curve of his mouth.

“I’m happy to see your pansies are doing well.”

I was aware that my mouth was hanging open, but after the shock of seeing him there, I was now completely confused by his presence. Why? Why was he sitting there and why was he talking to me? I had no idea what to say to him.

I remember watching Pride and Prejudice with Clara where Matthew Macfadyen played the stoic, painfully shy, and socially awkward Mr. Darcy. Yes, Mr. Darcy truly was all these things on top of being a bit priggish at first. But behind all that, he was loving and loyal to the nth degree, too. We just couldn’t see it behind all of his “stay back, peasant” vibes. There was this scene where Mr. Darcy told Lizzy, “I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.”

That was me. I was Mr. Darcy. Introverted, shy, and nervous in large crowds and around strangers. Except the difference between me and Mr. Darcy was that I had no desire to grow outside my small social circle. Content with everyone on this side of my comfort zone, I definitely had no interest in expanding it to include this vampire.

“You obviously have a gift with flowers,” he said softly, warm gaze sweeping over my face, across my shoulders, and down to my hands.

I blinked heavily one more time then returned to my unnecessary patting of the soil.

Clearing my throat, I muttered, “Thank you.”

Now please leave.

“You’re very welcome.”

I remained silent even though the amused tone in his voice rankled. Then he fell silent, too. But he wasn’t leaving! Like he enjoyed just sitting there on the bench and watching me plant flowers. What did he want?

Livvy had made it abundantly clear this guy was super famous and his social circle included dozens and dozens of celebrities and European fashion models and all the rich, beautiful people in the ritzy parts of the world I’d never even been to or desired to ever go. Livvy had shown me his Instagram, which had included photos of him yachting with a beautiful, smiling entourage near Monaco. One was of a pretty, black-haired woman draped behind him in a chair, the sun setting behind them, glowing like a halo to highlight their perfection. She appeared to be one of his Bollywood movie costars. Both of them glittering.

And now he was sitting here in my courtyard with me while I gardened, a far cry from Monaco, and I couldn’t figure out what he wanted. I waited him out for at least five more full minutes, yanking at weeds and patting the soil. In that time, I’d glanced up twice to catch him smiling serenely and just observing me. Quietly. Calmly. While I was screaming inside, my nerves fractured the longer he sat there.

What the hell was he doing here?!

I couldn’t take it anymore. I kept my eyes down on the soil and asked, “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I thought that was fairly clear,” he replied evenly. “I brought you and your sisters a neighborly treat.”

“Not here at my house, but here in my garden.” I sat back and placed the trowel in my lap, squeezing the handle and forcing my polite face to remain in place as I looked up at him. “Do you need something?”

In the sunlight, his eyes shone more amber than the darker shade of brown they seemed the other night. The afternoon sun shot across his intense expression, highlighting the slash of his cheekbones and the beard he apparently manicured like a madman to be so perfect.

Those eyes roamed my face, the small crease pinching his brow telling me he was riddling me out. Or trying to. There was absolutely nothing to riddle. I was an open book. I was just annoyed. No secret there.

“I do need something,” he finally answered, the sun glinting off something silver in his mouth.

“What is it?”

My gaze was solely focused on his mouth now, realizing with a rush of heat that his tongue was pierced.

“Your forgiveness.”

I blinked. That was definitely not what I was expecting. My mind was a hazy mess from his apology and the erotic discovery of his tongue piercing.

His full mouth tipped up on one side, apparently laughing at me again. “I realized I didn’t actually apologize the other night.”

Gripping the handle of my trowel so I didn’t fidget, I was surprised by his open sincerity. He seemed all arrogant and superior and bossy in my brief instances with him. But if he thought I’d make this easy on him because he’d finally decided to grow some manners, he was a bigger fool than I thought he was.

“No,” I agreed. “You didn’t.”

He smiled wider. “Would you please accept my apology?”

“For what exactly?” I tilted my head as if I had no idea what that might be. My heart pounded far too fast, making my voice shaky. But I’d gotten my ass handed to me more than once the past few days from my sisters over me and my bicycle, so I actually wanted to hear this apology to the fullest.

He clasped his hands tighter, glancing down at them before spearing me with an intense expression fixed with compassion. “For hitting you with my car. You were right.” His voice dropped soft and deep, a combination I didn’t particularly like coming from him. “It was entirely my fault. I’d been driving too many hours without rest, which is no excuse, but I must’ve lost my concentration on the road. So, I apologize for causing you any harm or distress.”

Hmm. Well, that was a pretty damn good apology, I had to admit.

Satisfied, I wiped my right hand on my already dirty pants and held it out to him. “Apology accepted.”

Without hesitation, he reached out and engulfed my hand with his own. I shook once then pulled my hand back, not liking the fact that even his handshake was intense. Like the potency of magic that filled his frame couldn’t help but reach out and zap anyone within touching distance. His aura was even pushy.

The soft clucking of Fred, Violet’s rooster, drew my attention to him as he wandered behind and around me, pretending he hadn’t noticed us. Like I didn’t know exactly what he wanted. I tell you, a cocky rooster was worse than a cat with their snotty attitudes. He circled back to my right, posting with his head bobbing. He wore a rainbow-striped tie—that was a new one. Heaving a small sigh, I decided to put him out of his misery. “Come here, Fred.”