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Owen Parker has finally revealed his true demonic form, and it’s in the shape of the grim reaper. He even had the audacity to put three kisses on the card, like he was taunting me with his kiss of death.
Son of a bitch.
“Who’s it from?” Lexi chimes in and leans over, trying to take a peek. I hand over the card, then grab the vase of flowers and hold them out in front of me like they are trying to attack my face while I march around the counter and promptly dump them in the trash.
“Aww. That’s not very nice,” Lexi quips, and I give her a scathing look before turning on my heel and marching toward the kitchen.
“He really got you this time, didn’t he?” Lexi muses.
“It’s not funny, Lex,” I bark over my shoulder as I push through the kitchen doors.
Instantly seeking out Owen, I watch as he plates up a serving of bacon and waffles, then turns to slide them across the counter to Wyatt before looking up and locking eyes with mine.
“You,” I seethe, then reach up and rub my nose as the telltale sign of a sneeze brewing prickles along the lining of my nose.
His lip kicks up into a knowing smirk. “Me.”
“You,” I repeat, my chest starting to heave as that prickling sensation builds in intensity and burns a path to my lungs.
“Me.”
“L-lavender—” I wheeze, my lungs burning and causing my eyes to water.
He glances nervously at Wyatt before looking back at me, the smug expression adorning his features a moment ago quickly fading and being replaced with one of worry.
“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a tentative step toward me.
“A-allergic—” I gasp, my whole upper body heaving as the urge to sneeze becomes so overwhelming it’s downright crippling.
The color drains from Owen’s face as he and Wyatt take a step back, their eyes going as wide as saucers like I’m a nuclear bomb on the countdown to detonation. And with one final heave, a sneeze erupts from my mouth with a force so strong, I’m surprised my lungs didn’t come up with it.
“Fuck!” Owen bellows, quickly springing into action and making a mad dash to the medicine cabinet on the far wall.
“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Wyatt chants as he paces back and forth and tugs at his black hair before stopping and pinning Owen with an accusatory glare. “Jesus Christ, dude, are you trying to kill her?”
“I didn’t know!” he yells back, slamming the first aid kit down on the counter and popping open the lid. Wyatt races around the counter and digs his hand into the kit along with Owen’s.
With the need to sneeze subsided for now, I fold my arms across my chest and watch as they both rummage through the contents—bandages, tape, and gauze being flung into the air as they frantically search for whatever it is they’re looking for.
“Got it!” Wyatt hollers, holding up an EpiPen in victory.
“Give me that.” Owen snatches it from him, rotating the pen in his hand and squinting his eyes to read the label. “How do you use this thing?”
“Heck if I know.” Wyatt shrugs.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Owen grinds out, “You’ve done first aid.”
“That was four years ago, man. I don’t remember shit.”
“Fuck!” Owen snaps, removing his ball cap and raking his fingers roughly through his hair in frustration.
Glancing over to the serving window, I spot the inquisitive stares of several patrons on the restaurant floor, their heads bobbing up and down as they try to catch a glimpse of the chaos currently ensuing in the kitchen.
I suppose now would be the time to tell them that the EpiPen is totally overkill. While I am allergic to pollen—Lavender, in particular, setting my allergies off more than any other flower—I’ve never actually had an anaphylactic reaction. And it’s nothing popping a couple of antihistamines won’t fix. But seeing as Owen started this whole debacle, to begin with, I decide to let him suffer a tad longer.
“We’re gonna have to call 9-1-1, dude,” Wyatt finally says.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Owen nods, then frantically pulls his phone out of his pocket.
