Monster Among the Roses
: Chapter 20

Isobel pounced as soon as I exited her dad’s office. “Well?” she demanded, grabbing my hand.

Her worry made me grin. “Well, what?” I teased, leaning in to shift my nose across her cheekbone.

Huffing out her impatience, she nudged me back far enough to see my face. “Well, what’d he say? Did he try to fire you? Pay you off? Chase you away? Keep us apart?”

With a laugh, I tugged her into my arms. “No, no, and no. He already promised you he wouldn’t fire me and…what? Pay me off? Are you kidding? He’s pretty much already paid me off by taking care of my mother.”

“But—”

“And how exactly did you think he’d keep us apart? We’re both adults. That’s not even…” I shook my head, cracking up over her concerns.

Isobel sniffed and shoved against my chest. “Stop laughing. This isn’t funny. He could’ve—”

“He couldn’t have done anything to keep me away from you.” Then I winked. “He has no mob ties, remember?”

She shook her head slowly, not amused. “Don’t tell me you weren’t as worried as I was when you went into that room. Your face was pale and hands were shaking. He could’ve threatened your mother’s security.”

“But he didn’t,” I murmured, burying my nose in her hair. “So it’s all good.”

“What did he say?” Calming against me, she softened her voice.

“He just wanted me to convince him I genuinely liked you.”

She looked up into my eyes. “And did you?”

My grin was immediate. “I convinced you, didn’t I? Of course, I convinced him.”

Letting out a sigh, she nodded. “It’s true, you are rather convincing. It almost makes me believe you may genuinely like me after all.”

“Oh, you…” Realizing she was teasing me, I lifted my eyebrows in mock warning. “You’re just begging for me to tickle an apology out of you, aren’t you?”

“What? No.” Her eyes went wide, and she immediately backed away, holding her elbows tight to her sides, pretty much letting me know exactly where she was the most ticklish. “You wouldn’t.”

“Take it back, and I won’t.” I advanced, holding up curled fingers that were prepared to tickle. “Tell me I’m not just being convincing, that I’m merely being honest.”

She backed away slowly, shaking her head. “But what if you are just an excellent actor?”

“Isobel,” I growled. “I’m warning you.” I reached out and she squealed her surprise. “Okay, okay. I know you like me. You’re not just saying it.”

I pulled her into my arms and pressed my brow to hers. “Prove it.”

She stopped tightening against possible tickles and straightened to look into my eyes. Then she stared at me a moment, her face uncovered and scars on full display. Lips relaxing into a smile, she cupped my face in her hands and kissed me.

Behind us, a throat cleared. We reluctantly pulled apart to glance over and replace Henry in the doorway of his office, watching us. This time, getting caught didn’t make us leap apart. Instead, Isobel and I shifted closer to each other, facing him side by side.

Henry’s gruff, censuring stare eased when he looked at his daughter. “You do seem happier,” he finally relented.

Her entire presence brightened. “I am.”

Henry gave a single nod. “Then so am I.” After a single approving nod my way, he disappeared back into his office, where he closed the door.

I blew out a relieved breath. Isobel turned to me, her smile letting me know she was onto me. I’d been even more worried about my conversation with her dad than she’d probably been.

But what she said to me was, “Are you going to go straight home, or do you have plans this evening?”

The question was odd enough to make me pause and focus on her face. She looked expectant and hopeful, her eyes already begging, which let me know she wanted something from me. My blood pulsed with anticipation. I moved toward her, ready to give her anything.

“I don’t have plans,” I said, focusing on her mouth. “Why? Did you want me to stay?”

She bit her lip. “Actually, no. I’d like to go somewhere. Do you think you could take me?”

I shook my head, certain I’d misheard her. “What?”

“I said, I’d like go—”

“Are you kidding me?” I shouted. “Yes! I’d love to take you somewhere. You mean, out of the house, away from Porter Hall, right? This is so…holy shit. Where do you want to go?”

She bit her lip. “It’s a surprise.”

I blinked. “A surprise?”

With a nod, she cleared her throat and glanced away. “So…are you in or not?”

Nodding freakishly hard, I said, “Of course I’m in. Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Gladly.”

“When’s the last time you left Porter Hall?” I asked, glancing toward the passenger side of the truck as we waited for the gates to swing open and let us out of the driveway.

Isobel bit her lip as she thought about the answer. “About six months ago, I think.” She shrugged. “I had a checkup with the doctor.”

“And before that?”

She kept her gaze fixed out the front windshield, but her hands sat tightly clasped in her lap, revealing her nerves. Leaving the property was a big deal for her. I reached out to cover her cold, trembling hands with my warm, steady ones, letting her know I understood. When she glanced over, I sent her a bolstering smile.

“Which way?”

She told me the address of where she wanted to go. I nodded, because I knew the area. Strangely, it wasn’t too far from my apartment. Then I tightened my grip on her knuckles and pulled onto the roadway.

The trip into town was quiet. I kept thinking I needed to start some brilliant, witty conversational topic, but the more I tried to think up something interesting to say, the less my brain spun ideas. Suddenly, I realized I was nervous. Not because I was going out into public with Isobel, but because she trusted me enough to take her there.

What if someone said something or did something to offend her and she never attempted another outing again? It was my responsibility to make it worth her while, to make her want to try again. This duty felt massive and almost too heavy for me to bear.

I wanted her to enjoy her time away from Porter Hall.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Isobel’s voice shook me from my thoughts. Glancing in the direction she pointed, I grinned.

The entire sidewall facing the road of the abandoned brick warehouse we passed bore a striking painting of a wolf grinning out at all the cars that passed. Next to it, a quote read:

The best way to replace out if you can trust someone is to trust them.

“That’s the work of Black Crimson,” I said. “You like it?”

“It’s breathtaking,” she murmured. “And the quote sounds like someone famous should’ve written it.”

“Someone famous did write it. Ernest Hemingway,” I said. When she glanced at me, I shrugged. “I had to look it up after the first time I saw the painting.”

Nodding, she glanced back over her shoulder to take in the last of the masterpiece before we’d driven past it completely. Turning forward again, she asked, “Who’s Black Crimson?”

I shook my head. “No one knows. He’s the city’s famous—or maybe I should say infamous—graffiti artist. He only works in black, white, and red spray paint, and all his masterpieces usually depict some kind of meaningful message. They’re signed B.C., which is how he became dubbed Black Crimson.”

Isobel wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure B and C are for the initials in his name, not for the colors in which he works.”

“Probably. But no one knows, so they just call him Black Crimson. Rolls off the tongue better than B.C., I guess.”

She turned to watch me seriously. “What do you think of them?”

“I like them,” I said honestly. “I hate how the city paints over them. They’re not evil and have actually seemed to lift the morale of the people, especially the ones who were so affected after the closing of the Pestle shoe factory. Plus, someday, I can picture a future archeologist uncovering them and trying to figure out the meaning and culture behind them.”

Isobel stared at me silently before nodding her head. “That’s a good answer. I think I like them too.”

I don’t know why her agreement pleased me. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d liked them or not, but it just felt good to know we were of the same accord. It made me feel as if we understood each other better.

“Want me to take you past my favorite one? It’s not too far from where we’re going. We can swing by it on the way.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

Her answer was so formal, I burst out laughing before answering, “Indeed, my lady.”

She reached across the center console to nudge my arm and roll her eyes, all the while grinning over my tease. “Just drive.”

I did but still had to smirk as I went. Making a slight detour from our original destination, I turned down a side street until we passed the town’s historical museum. The outer wall facing the street held no windows, deeming it a perfect place for Black Crimson to strike. In this picture, he—or she—had painted a tower with some long flowing hair streaming out the balcony at the top. It flowed all the way to the ground. Some hapless guy had tried to climb the hair, but he must’ve lost his grip because he was flailing in midair, ready to drop to his doom.

The quote for this picture said:

Don’t take life too seriously. You’re not getting out of it alive.

From the passenger seat, Isobel burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious.” Holding her side, she rolled to face me. “Who is it a quote from?”

Her eyes glittered with joy and I had to admit, it felt nice, knowing she realized I’d made sure to replace out the answer to that question already.

“Elbert Hubbard,” I said. “Or at least, it’s similar to one of his quotes.”

She nodded. “Does all of Black Crimson’s art illustrate some fairy tale or another?”

I sent her a curious glance.

Motioning behind her, she explained. “Well, that one was obviously Rapunzel. And the one before was the Big Bad Wolf, right?”

“Holy shit,” I cried, gaping at her before shaking my head and returning my attention to the road. “I think you’re right. I remember another one having some guy leaning over a sleeping woman and one had a mermaid on it, which must be—”

“The Little Mermaid,” she murmured for me.

I nodded before saying, “Huh. I wonder why I never caught on to that before.”

“Well, the pictures look pretty contemporary. No one is wearing chainmail and suits of armor or big, flaring dresses with tiaras, which usually clues a person in to a fairy tale.”

“True,” I allowed before winking over at her. “Or I just needed someone like you around to notice the obvious for me.”

My praise made her blush. I turned another corner at a light and halfway down the block, we came to the address she’d given me, but even before I pulled to the curb, my eyes flared with shock at the flower shop where I’d found her fake midnight supreme rose seeds.

“Hey,” I said, my surprise evident. “I’ve been here before. It’s where I bought the—”

“I know.” She grew serious as she gazed out the truck window at the building. “The name and address of the place was stamped on the back of the package of rose seeds you gave me.”

“Oh.” I frowned, only more confused. “So…why are we here then?” I would’ve thought she’d want nothing to do with a business that offered such a hustle.

“I was a bit upset at the woman who owned the place for scamming you the way she did,” Isobel explained with a shrug. “So I bought her out of business.”

I stared at her, blinking before I shook my head and laughed, unable to take her words literally. “You did what?”

She shrugged. “The woman didn’t deserve to own a flower shop if she treated her customers the way she treated you, so I bought her out. And now…” She tipped her head to the shop and met my gaze. “I own a flower shop.”

“I…” I laughed again, not sure what to think of this before bursting out, “Are you actually serious?”

“As a heart attack,” she said. “So…are you willing to help me with this project, or not?”

I shook my head, dazed. “Help you with what? Holy shit, I can’t believe you just up and bought a business out from under someone. Do you even know how to run your own shop?”

“No.” She started to grin. “Of course not. I’ve been a shut-in at my home since I was seventeen. But my dad and brother can give me pointers, plus…” I swear, her lashes fluttered as she looked entreatingly at me. “You helped your mom run her bakery, right?”

“Only for a few months,” I argued. “And it ended up going out of business. I don’t think that makes me such a good referral.”

“Nonsense,” she argued. “You’ll do fine. You can be the face of the company and deal with customers. I’ll work in the back, arranging flowers and…you know, do whatnot.”

Whatnot.

It was enough to make me laugh again. Not because it was funny. It was just…stunning, a scratch-my-head-in-wonder-and-laugh kind of shock.

“You’re really serious about this,” I repeated, not asking this time, but stating.

She nodded. “What? Don’t you think it’ll work?”

“I don’t…” Shrugging, I gave her my honest answer. “I actually have no idea. I mean, of course, I’d be willing to help you, no matter how risky it was. But what about your dad? I’m kind of indebted to him and signed a contract saying I’d work for him for the rest of my life.”

“But your agreement was for you to spend time with me, which you’d be doing.”

“I…” I wrinkled my brow before slowly saying, “Yeah. I suppose that would be one way to put it. But—”

“Then we’ll talk to Dad and see what he says.”

I laughed again. “What about you, though? You never leave the house, yet now, suddenly, you want to open a flower shop where you’ll be exposed to customers all day? Do you really think you could handle that?”

She lifted her chin primly. “I believe I already told you, dealing with the customers would be your job, not mine.”

“But you must know sometimes you wouldn’t be able to help it. If I got busy, or sick, or had a question only you could answer… There would be some exposure.”

She seemed to deliberate that before giving a slow nod. “I suppose I could handle some exposure. It’s time.”

“It’s a big step,” I told her. “Like jumping straight off into the deep end, instead of slowly wading in until you’re comfortable. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

She nodded. “I’m sure.” Then she blushed. “You make me feel ready for anything.”

I blew out a breath, honored by such a statement, but also intimidated. What if something went wrong? Would she then blame me? Besides…

“I’m still baffled here,” I admitted. “What even prompted you to do this?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah. You wanted to stop that lady from deceiving anyone else, but that didn’t mean you had to keep the place once you bought it. You could spice it up, then turn around and sell it for a profit. Or put someone else in charge of running it, instead of making it some do-it-yourself project.”

She drew in a slow breath, before meeting my gaze and admitting, “You made me want more.”

“What?” I whispered.

“With the bookshelves,” she prompted, “and running every morning together, and just everything. I’ve felt more alive these past few weeks than I have in years, maybe in forever. And it’s made me feel cooped up in that big house. I suddenly felt this urge to get out and do something, to make a living, to just…live. I want to do this, Shaw, because…because I actually want to do something. Like you said once, I want to make a difference in the world and leave my mark. Even if it’s just to make people smile when they buy my flowers. That would be enough for me.”

My lips parted in awe. I wasn’t sure why, but in that moment, I couldn’t think of anyone else I admired more in the world. To watch her go from being the vulnerable, standoffish scarred woman in the rose garden only to bloom into the amazing creature before me was nothing short of a miracle.

I was mesmerized.

“Then I’ll help you,” I heard myself say. It didn’t matter what it took or how we’d convince her father to allow my assistance, I would help her. That I knew for sure.

She grinned as if I’d just pulled down the stars for her, then she threw her arms around my neck and opened her mouth to mine.

Our tongues met first, then our lips, our hands. But she was still too far away. I started to tug her over the cup holder and into my lap before a passing car honked. I had no idea if they were honking at us or something else, but it still cooled me off enough to let her go and pull away. Breathing hard, I wiped my mouth that still tasted of her.

“That’s probably as far as we should go in public,” I said, blushing, before I sent her a rueful glance of apology for nearly mauling her in front of anyone and everyone who bothered to look into the cab of my truck.

Isobel met my gaze, her blue eyes serious. “Then take me somewhere private.”

My stomach dipped with disappointment. “You want to go home?”

“No…” She shook her head and her kiss-stained lips curved into a smile. “Not yet.”