Page 70 of Wicked & Wildflower

“Nobody bet on forever,” she chimes back.

He laughs under his breath. “Guess you’re all losers, then.”

If I’m not mistaken, I think I hear her gasp at his comment, but we’re both laughing as we push through the office doors and out into the school’s lobby. Everett takes a seat beside me as we wait for my daughter.

“You know, maybe when this whole fake dating thing is over, I can hire you on as my bodyguard instead,” I muse. “You really handed her ass to her.”

“Don’t be silly, Wildflower.” He smiles at me as he tosses his arm over my shoulder and pulls me against his chest. “We’re gonna have to date forever now so we can prove those assholes wrong.”

23

Wicked

A Safe Place For Her To Land

I’ve thought of abouta hundred and twelve different ways I’d like to kill Dane Andrews.

Gruesome, deranged, messy ways I’d rip him limb from limb and watch him bleed, the kind of things only a man my sister writes about in her books would be capable of.

I guess that depraved kind of creative darkness is a family trait.

I’ve hated that man since Darby first spoke of him when we were kids. I hated him when Leo told me all the things he’d done to keep her away. I hated him when I saw him in my business with his hand around Dahlia’s arm. I’ve hated him every time she has spoken of him.

But until I walked into her office yesterday and saw those tears streaming down her face, watched her body shake with sobs and tremble with fear, I’d never dreamed about killing someone. I’d kill him, though. I’d kill him for how broken he has made her.

I’d kill him without a second thought.

Then spend the rest of my life trying to put her back together.

If all I get out of life is a chance to do the latter, I’ll take it happily, but fuck. I’d like to kill him.

Those are the thoughts that plague me as I pull up to the curb outside the boardwalk businesses and park my car. They follow me to the front of the empty suite beside Heathen’s, still in the thick of refurbishment.

Pushing open the door, the space is littered with boxes, paint, and tarps. They’ve been making great headway on the opening of Honeysuckle Florals, Darby’s flower shop, and are on track to open early in the new year. I add two more boxes to the pile in the middle of the main room, full of photo prints from up and down the California coast.

Leo bought them off a friend of ours, a landscape photographer who owns a gallery in Venice Beach. We’ve got several of his canvases hung up around Heathen’s, and Darby wanted some for herself too.

“Honeysuckle!” I call, knowing Darby’s supposed to be here.

“In here!” she responds from somewhere toward the back of the building.

I maneuver around the boxes and equipment until I reach the small office in the corner. It’s a complete one-eighty from the rest of the building: walls painted a soft yellow, with a bright, multi-colored rug and matching throw pillows on the cream-colored couch to one side. There’s a desk on the other end of the room, bookshelves and filing cabinets set up behind it. Potted plants line the windowsill that looks out to the pier beyond the boardwalk.

“Damn.” I let out a low whistle, turning slowly as I take in the space. “It looks great in here, Darbs.”

“Thank you,” she says from behind her desk, where she appears to be organizing some paperwork. “It’s too early to getstarted on the shop itself, since we’re not finished painting, but I figured I could put my office together. I was itching for something to do.”

“You’re doing great.” Hitching my thumb behind me, I add, “I left those canvases you bought from Carter in a box in the main room. Do you want them somewhere else?”

“No, we can leave them there for now.” She lifts her head, smiling at me. “Thanks for going all the way up there, by the way. I know it’s a far drive.”

“It was no problem.” The garage is always slow just before the holidays, so I had a free day earlier this week. I was happy to take the trip out to Santa Monica. “I owed them a visit anyway.”

She nods, sinking down into her desk chair. I fall back onto the couch behind me and sprawl out.

“So, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” Darby asks, not looking at me as she continues sorting through her files.

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