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After he left, Wren tried to climb back down but I tightened my grip, keeping her in my lap and in my space the last couple minutes of the ride, if only to get her used to the fact that she was mine.
The haunted house was just the start. Or at least, that was the plan.
Rationally, I knew that it would take more than surprise tickets to a haunted house to convince Wren of my intentions. Especially considering she didn’t know I’d bought those tickets days before she mentioned a haunted house to the others. I’d bought them as soon as she made the note in her phone, which I’d cloned the first night I spent in her apartment.
I had no fucking idea how to make Wren mine. To make her want me for something other than a fight or a good time. That became clear after our date at the haunted house ended.
By the time we arrived back at Wren’s apartment, her eyes were wide enough to make me think she’d been drugged somewhere between the hayride and her car. She refused to meet my eyes, fingers flexing at her sides and fidgeting with her clothes as she mumbled an excuse about being tired before retreating to her room. That was enough to make me glad I’d chosen the slow, surreptitious approach to winning her heart.
If a single orgasm had her ignoring me, anything more would be a nail in my coffin. Even if the feel of her was imprinted on my skin, in my soul, making me crave taking ownership of each part of her body until it knew it was mine, I resolved to keep my hands to myself until Wren asked for more.
Unfortunately, despite the list of exes Wren and my sister liked to tease me about, I had very little skill when it came to relationships. Most of my exes had been hookups that turned into short - and only occasionally long - term arrangements. A friend whose couch I slept on and eventually fucked, which led to another couch or another bed. I barely got to know most of my exes beyond their names and their criminal connections. Which meant most of my attempts at winning Wren over failed spectacularly.
The morning after our encounter in the maze, I made Wren pancakes before she woke up, making sure to put chocolate chips in them. I’d confessed my intentions to Ames shortly after our talk, and she took no time becoming my unofficial wingwoman. Surprisingly, she was all too willing to lie to our friends, forcing Alex on a last-minute trip out of town just to ensure Wren and I would be alone at the haunted house.
Not too proud to take advantage of her insider information, I texted Ames to ask about Wren’s pancake preferences. I felt fucking domestic as I presented the chocolate chip pancakes to Wren as she emerged from her bedroom, more rumpled than usual, her hair falling into her eyes and her neck displaying the bruises I’d given her the night before.
I had to grip the counter to keep my hands to myself, pushing the plate to her across the counter with a smirk. It reminded me of our first morning in her apartment, her sweet attempt at pancakes to bridge the gap between us, and I’d hoped for a more successful breakfast this time around. Instead, Wren ate the pancakes with a grimace.
“What made you become a florist?” I tried another tactic the next day, taking advantage of our time alone for the first time since my failed pancakes. After forcing them down, Wren had gone back to avoiding me, running some errands with Dev for work the day before and finding excuses to be away from me when we were in the apartment together.
But today was a workday, which meant Wren couldn’t go but so far to escape me. Instead of hiding in the back room, I sat in the front with her, watching as she put together an arrangement while I ran some programs on my laptop, tracking Alfie Schratz’s most recent banking transactions. So far, Alex and I hadn’t found anything linking Alfie to a larger organization.
It was both a relief and not. A relief because one man against our crew, or even just me, was laughable. Especially if our motivation for succeeding was protecting Wren. She was mine, which gave me the most motivation, but I knew the guys - and Ames - saw Wren like a little sister, someone they wanted to protect. Even if Wren was technically a year older than Ames.
On the other hand, if Alfie, acting on his own with no backup, felt comfortable enough to target us, we were in trouble. I clenched my fists thinking about his audacity.Only a man, Ames would say if I told her, and my fingers relaxed slightly at the thought of her indignant voice in my head. But even her imaginary snark couldn’t protect us in the long-term, and that was what we’d need if word got out about Alfie’s initial success in breaking into Wren’s shop. I knew Dev planned to look into an alliance, and I resolved to do whatever I could to support him.
“Why did you become a computer hacker-science-programmer?” Wren’s voice pulled my attention from my computer screen, and I jerked my gaze up to find the wary look she’d shot my way. As if I could use her motivation to become a florist against her. Then again, if it had been two weeks ago, I probably could have. And would have.
I rolled my eyes at her at her attempt to avoid my question, but I answered anyway, hoping my honesty would act as an olive branch over the silent awkwardness Wren had been emitting the past day and a half. I’d had a few moments of wishing I’d never touched Wren at the haunted house, if only to save us from the steps we’d taken backward, but then I’d remember the feeling of her skin, the small noises she made, and the way she moaned my name when she came, and I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
“At my high school, there was a computer science elective. My dad had been in programming, and he’d shown me some basics when I was younger. Ames wasn’t really into computers but I’d enjoyed his lessons, so I signed up for the class, thinking he’d be able to help me with my homework. And he did, until he died.”
My parents’ death - in a freak car accident toward the end of my junior year of high school - wasn’t news to Wren, whom I was sure had many heart-to-hearts with my sister in the three months they’d known each other. But her eyes still glossed over as I spoke, and my chest ached at the sympathy she was so willing to show me, even after all the bullshit I put her through.
“Anyway, when my parents died, the teacher was really great. He let me finish assignments on my own time and let me pursue what I found interesting. It came so easily to me, the coding, and I loved being able to work without having to talk to people or about how people felt. I put all my energy into computer programming, and I flew through the course, and Mr. Carey - that was his name - gave me extra assignments to work on. When I graduated, he recommended I take a few night classes in coding and helped me apply for scholarships since I was working a bunch of part-time jobs to get by. Eventually, my skill surpassed the classes being taught at the local community college, and those taught at the university downtown, where I’d audited a few courses. I learned more online, finding mentors who taught me everything I knew.”
I sighed, hating this next part but knowing that I needed to get it out. Despite making constant bad decisions over the past five years, this one was - and hopefully would remain - my worst mistake.
“Then I started dating this guy.” I grit my teeth thinking about how stupid I’d been. It felt like I was a different person, even though it’d only been a year ago. “He was great at coding. Or at least he acted like he was, and I wasimpressed.” I rolled my eyes, voice brittle as I recalled how quickly I’d believed his supposed skill level, even if I never saw him do anything beyond my reach. “We started competing, seeing who could hack into the highest-security system without being caught. It started small, but it grew, and eventually he dared me to hack into a few government systems. I didn’t think anything of it, too high on thrill of the attempt, and did the hack.”
I shook my head, disgust in my voice as I told her, “It was so…easy, Wren. I mean, easier than I could believe. And I didn’t get caught.” I looked at her, trying to see if she understood what I meant. If there was anything in her life that felt like a drug, that made her make reckless decisions even though she knew they were bad for her. She didn’t respond to my unspoken question, but her eyes glinted in recognition at the feeling.
“Then what happened?” She whispered, flowers forgotten as she gripped the counter, as if she didn’t know the next part. And maybe she didn’t. Ames had always been all too willing to protect me, and I wondered how much she’d glossed over for my sake when she told Wren the story of how everything went down.
“Apparently, my ex was connected to some domestic terrorist organizations. He exploited a few of the back entrances my hack had created in the system to break in on his own. The FBI caught him before they could carry any of their plans out, but in catching him, they found me too. I went to court and got off on a technicality, since Alex had stolen all the evidence against me and paid for a high-end lawyer we wouldn’t have been able to afford on our own. And then I got lucky that Ames decided to shack up with a guy eager to hire an almost-con hacker. So here I am.” I spread my hands, encompassing my computer, the shop, Wren sitting in front of me, all aspects of my current job.
Then I turned back to my program, expecting us to lapse into another Wren-appointed silence. Her eyes had flicked to mine all morning, muscles tense, as if waiting for some kind of ball to drop. So it took me a moment to recognize the soft tone of her voice as she continued to arrange the abandoned bouquet, her speech barely louder than the sound of the shuffle of stems and the faint music playing throughout the store.
“My mom was always a gardener. She liked working with her hands, getting the smell of the hospital out of her nose by working in the dirt in her limited free time. She’s a doctor, and my dad’s in investment banking, so they always spent long hours at work. I was alone a lot, being an only child. I always wanted a brother or sister,” she admitted with a small smile.
It was another blow to the chest, the longing in her face to have a sibling, a person her age to relate to. Dev and Ames and Alex were clearly those people she’d always been looking for, and it didn’t escape me that I’d attempted to take them away from her.
“I always looked forward to spring and summer because the garden was one of the only things my mom and I bonded over. She would grow vegetables and herbs for dinner, blueberry and blackberry bushes for fresh fruit and cobblers. Andflowers.” She smiled, lost in the memory as she traced a few petals with her fingers, adjusting the stems until each bloom was displayed perfectly in her arrangement. “Mom always let me pick flowers and make little arrangements for her. She thought it was a cute hobby, until I sat down with them a couple years after I graduated from college and told them I planned to move out here to start my business.”
She took a moment to walk the arrangement over to the walk-in fridge that took up most of the back corner ofIn Bloom, emerging after a moment with an armful of uncut flowers. She got working on the next arrangement, likely another for Ames, since she didn’t have an order slip sitting next to her. Getting engaged had only increased his frequent bouquet orders, and I firmly believed he would keep Wren in business if she ever struggled to get customers, if only to keep Ames fully stocked in the types of flowers she appreciated.
“Can you grab me the smoky crystal vase on the top shelf?” Wren pointed behind me, to the vase display taking up a large wall in her shop. It looked great, even if the top two shelves were too high for her to reach on her own. She had a step stool for those, though she often took advantage of my height now that I was always with her in the shop. “And the black matte round one on the second to top shelf?”
