Chapter Twelve
For the pastseveral days, Raven couldn’t get Muerto out of her mind. His usually cocky attitude had been absent at the junkyard, and it made her think that they may have crossed some line in their relationship.What type of relationship do we really have?He was her landlord, but what they had between them was much more than a renter/owner interaction.
Why am I thinking so much about him? I’m sure I haven’t crossed his mind since the junkyard. He hasn’t called or dropped by. I’m definitely making more out of this than there is.
Padding onto the back porch to get her weeder and watering can, her bare feet glided over the shiny hardwood floor. Ever since she was a child, she’d preferred being barefooted whenever she could. She especially loved walking outdoors in her bare feet, her toes wiggling in the lush grass as she gardened or watered the lawn. Each time she came into her house, she’d toss her shoes off and enjoy the feel of the ground beneath her soles.
Armed with her gardening tools, she opened the front door and went out on the porch. “Ow!” she cried as a stab of pain shot through her foot. Thinking she’d stepped on a bee, she looked down. Strewn on the welcome mat were many long-stemmed red roses. “What the hell?” she muttered aloud as she bent down and carefully picked them up. Glancing around for a card or something that would tell her who left them, she found nothing.
That’s weird. Maybe Muerto put them there.As she pictured the handsome biker putting the roses on her porch as she slept, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She liked the idea that it was him, but her gut told her it wasn’t. He didn’t strike her as a flower type of guy. Anyway, she was pretty sure he’d want her to know he’d given them to her if he’d done it.
She considered Brent.No, he’d want me to know it was from him too.The way they were drooping told her that they’d been there for a while and were in desperate need of water. She went back into the house and took out a tall vase, filling it with water.
After she arranged the flowers, she went back outside to attend to her small garden. Happy that the oppressive heat from the last few days had dissipated somewhat, she adjusted her sun hat and went over to uncoil the hose. In her peripheral vision, she saw Walter walking toward her. Groaning inwardly, she turned on the water and aimed the spray nozzle at her vegetable patch.
He stood right next to her, uncomfortably close and invading her personal space. Each time she inched away from him, he filled the gap. Finally, she craned her neck and looked at him. “Do you mind? And what do you want?”
“You smell real good.” He inhaled deeply, his nose sounding stuffed up.
“Thanks. Can you move back? I’m trying to water.”
He took a step away from her. “I like watching your vegetables grow. I remember when you planted them in the spring. They’re coming along nicely. You’ve got a knack for it. Like my mother. She can grow anything. In that way you’re similar to my mother.”
How the fuck am I supposed to reply tothat?“Thanks…?”
“You’ve got pretty feet. I like women who paint their toes. What color are yours? They look blue, but not as bright as the sky.”
Okay, this guy is really strange.Then a thought hit her and a shiver of ice stabbed her gut.What if he put the flowers on my porch? I wouldn’t put it past him. I need to talk to Muerto about him.
“So, what color blue are they?”
“Uh… oh… turquoise. Did you put some roses on my porch this morning?” Her gaze fixed on him.
Averting his eyes, he shook his head, his hands going in and out of his pockets. “No, but I saw them when I went for my walk.”
“Are you sure you didn’t put them there?”
“Why would I do that?”
“What time did you go for your walk?”
“The time I always do—seven o’clock.”
Not convinced, she turned away. “I don’t mean to be rude, Walter, but I’m not up for talking right now. I usually like to zone out when I water and garden. It’s my quiet time, you know?”
“So you don’t want to talk to me?” A hard edge crept into his voice.
She rolled her shoulders; she hadn’t realized how tense she was since he’d come over. “That isn’t what I said. I said I want some quiet time, so for now I’d rather not talk.”
He clucked his tongue and stepped forward so he was in her line of vision. “Do you like dancing?”
Sighing, she nodded. “Do you?”I couldn’t care less if he does or doesn’t. I just wish he’d go away and leave me the hell alone.
“The way people hold each other and grind into each other is just nasty. And most of the time they’re strangers. The way I see it is that it’s just an excuse to grope each other.”
What a fuckin’ nut.“Everyone is free to think what they want. Dancing has always involved touching, even as far back as the ancient civilizations.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not dirty. No one cares about morality. Look how God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah and how the Roman Empire crumbled because of immorality. The world is going to find out that enough is enough.”
