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“Red’ll be here at nine,” he said.
Violet’s brain registered the words somewhere far away like she was hearing them from underwater. His proximity made her ache, and she realized for the first time how affected she was by what happened in the woods, how much she wanted to go back to the press of him between her legs and that low, rough demand in her ear,“Tell me to mate you, Violet,”and be brave enough to say yes.
A callused fingertip grazed the side of her neck while he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she honest to god shivered.
“Makin’ pancakes,” he said with a smile, like he had no idea the words rumbled in his chest and sounded like sex.
Violet swallowed and nodded, watched him leave, then closed the door and sunk down behind it.
“YOU’LL BE CAREFUL,” Mikel said to Red, and it wasn’t a question.
Red swooned at it, and Violet tried to decipher the oceans of subtext in the conversation that she was missing.
“Here.” He pulled a black card out of his pocket and held it out to Violet. She reached for it before she realized it was a credit card and snatched her hand back.
“Oh, no. I’m good.” It felt wrong to take his money and icky. All her complicated feelings abouthimand their situation threatened to come to the surface, so she turned to Red instead. “We getting out of here?”
“Violet.” Her name in his mouth made something stir in her blood. He looked serious for a second then seemed to reconsider. “Starbucks,” he said with that slanted half smile, like that was all it would take to persuade her, “and lunch.”
The offer was sincere, but still, she warred with herself. She didn’t want to rely on his money.
“I’ll hang onto it, boss.” Red waited for him to nod, then tucked the card into the pocket of her obscenely tight jeans. She stood out against the backdrop of everyone else Violet had seen in town. Starkly. Red was dark haired and dark eyed with red streaks and a fashion sense closer to her own. Violet was eager to get to know her. Most interestingly of all, her brown irises were permanently marked with a ring of gold.
“I’ll wait in the van, okay?”
Red didn’t give Violet a chance to reply before she was gone, then it was just the two of them, alone in the shop for reasons Violet didn’t understand.
“Uh, well, bye.”
Mikel nodded, hands in his pockets. “Violet,” he said when her hand was on the door handle. Mischief danced in his eyes. “Try to be good.”
It should have pissed her off, patronized her, but instead she had to turn away before he could see her smile.
There was a moment, walking out of the shop door, looking between the big, black van that was idling in the drive and the forest beyond, where the urge to run struck her.
“That was quick.” Red hung out of the driver’s window to yell at her, and just like that, better judgement prevailed.
“So, how’re you liking the Bluff?” Red asked after they’d pulled away from the house and were flying down a narrow road through thick trees faster than Violet thought would be strictly in keeping with Mikel’s idea of “being careful.”
“It’s different.” She was selective with her answer.
“Yeah,” Red agreed. “Missing home?”
And suddenly, thanks to just the mention of it, she was. Guilt and sadness choked her. She nodded, watching the trees whip by, wondering what Lila thought, if she was okay. Her companion seemed to sense her somber mood, and they were quiet until they hit the town. Violet told herself to pay attention, to try to get an idea of this place, to learn her way around. They turned left then right, then right again, and she already knew it was going to take more than one trip. Forest Bluff seemed like a good-sized town, and it looked totally, bizarrely normal.
The houses were large, well-spaced and well-tended. The cars in their driveways were newer, clean bodied, and well maintained. It reminded her of her neighborhood in Frankston, which was home to the wealthiest families there.
“Okay, two nightstands for Mrs. James,” Red announced as they pulled up to the curb and jerked to an impressive stop.
It dawned on Violet then that they were delivering furniture. Red already had the back doors open and was setting the second of the pieces on the pavement when Violet joined her.
“Think you can get one?”
Violet nodded and followed her up the driveway ahead, struggling a little with the weight of the solid wood. They stopped at the door, and Red rang the bell. The woman who answered appraised them carefully.
“Morning, Mrs. James,” Red offered politely. “Brought your nightstands from the shop.”
“Daniella Hawthorne’s mate?” the woman asked, in a tone that struck Violet as rude. If Red noticed, she gave no sign of it.
