I didn’t believe in the paranormal. I hadn’t even believed in things like Santa Claus when I was a kid. William might as well have just told me he’d traveled through time, or come from a different planet.
But how did he know those things?
“Stranger than fiction,” I said, more to myself than to him. Mark Twain had said that. A literary genius. And a man who’d believed in the unexplainable. “Oh my god, the metal coffin.”
“What?” William asked.
“Mark Twain,” I said. “When he was a young man working on a steamboat, he had a terrible dream. He saw a metal coffin supported by two chairs. His brother, Henry, was inside the coffin with roses laid on his chest—white, with a single red one. It was so vivid, when he woke up, he was convinced it was real. But his sister told him it couldn’t be, because only rich people were buried in metal coffins, and they weren’t rich. Not long after, his brother was in a steamboat accident and he died of his injuries. When Twain went to see him, he was in a metal coffin supported by two chairs. One of the nurses who’d cared for him brought roses and laid on them on his chest—white, and one red.”
“That’s spooky,” he said.
“It is. Of course, there are people who dispute the accuracy of the story. But…” I trailed off, but William didn’t fill the silence. He stroked his thumb across the back of my wrist, a slow gentle movement that seemed to keep my heart from beating too fast. Mark Twain’s supposed prophetic dream wasn’t proof that William had been sent to save me. But I did have to admit that some things were outside the realm of the explainable.
Maybe there was an explanation for all this. I didn’t think it was some form of divine intervention in my life. William was a man, not an angel. But the things he’d said had been right. And there would have been no simple way of finding those things out. I didn’t think even Jessica knew about the tree in my backyard. I’d never had a reason to talk about it.
“What is it you want?” I asked.
“Well…” He paused, meeting my eyes. “I guess right now I just want to be your friend. I want to be in your life.”
There was heat in his gaze that hinted at something else—made my core tingle in a way that had a blush creeping up my neck and across my cheeks.
I swallowed hard, still feeling the warmth of his hand on mine, the soft caress of his thumb against my wrist. “Friends?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “We can be friends.”
That smile again. It warmed me from the inside and I found myself smiling back.
And a part of me knew that it was going to be very hard to remain just friends with William Cole.
Breakfast
Edgar barked before the car’s engine had shut off. Someone was here, and he wasn’t happy about it.
“What’s going on out there, buddy?” I asked. “Who’s here?”
It was still morning, and I hadn’t opened the curtains yet, so I couldn’t see outside. Edgar’s ears swiveled, and he stood up from his dog bed, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.
“Edgar, stop.”
He barked again at the knock on the door. I got up and peeked through the gap in the curtain, half expecting to see William’s Jeep outside. Then again, Edgar probably wouldn’t have barked at William. But it was Blake. That was strange. I wasn’t expecting him. Had I missed a message?
“Just a second,” I called through the door. Edgar barked again. “Buddy, you’re going outside if you can’t behave. Sit.”
He sat, and I opened the door.
Blake smiled. “Morning. I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast.” He held up two brown to-go bags.
“Oh, wow. This is unexpected.”
“Can I come in? The food’s getting cold.” He stepped inside—I had to move out of his way—before I could answer.
Edgar growled.
“Edgar, go lie down,” I said. He went over to his dog bed, but he didn’t take his eyes off Blake. “Good boy.”
“So, this is Edgar,” Blake said. Edgar growled again, and Blake took a step back. “Interesting name for a dog.”
“I was going to name him Poe, but Edgar seemed to suit him better,” I said, watching with confusion as Blake went to the dining table. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. I shut the door.
“Get us plates, would you?” He started pulling things out of the bags and setting them on the table.
I hesitated for a second, then went into the kitchen to get plates. “Did you text me and I missed it?”
“No,” he said.
“So, you’re just here at nine in the morning on a Sunday?” I handed him the plates.
He smiled and started to lean in like he meant to kiss me. I turned and grabbed one of the bags and pulled out another container.
“Well, I’d hoped we would have had breakfast together yesterday.” He paused, raising an eyebrow, as if to emphasize the innuendo. “Since we were interrupted, I thought we could have breakfast together today.”
“It would have been nice if you’d have called first,” I said.
He slipped a hand around my waist and drew me closer. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d like this.”
I pushed against him and stepped back. “We’ve been on a few dates. I don’t think we’re quite to showing-up-unannounced territory.”
“Ivy, I never go out with a woman more than once if I don’t see the potential for something more,” he said.
It irked me the way he said that, as if I should be flattered.
“That’s good to know, but I’m not sure I understand your point.”
“My point is,” he said, moving close and putting his hands around my waist again, “that I really like you. And I know you like me, too. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Friday night. That mouth. That body. All I want to do is spend the rest of the day fucking you.”
The kiss happened so suddenly, I didn’t have a chance to decide whether I wanted it or not. Which I decidedly did not. But his lips were against mine, hard and aggressive—and not in a way I found appealing in the slightest. I didn’t kiss him back, but put my hands on his chest and pushed him away.
“Blake, stop.”
Edgar stood and growled again. This time, I didn’t tell him to sit.
Blake’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” I said. “You show up here unannounced, saying you want to have breakfast, but really you’re just trying to get my clothes off.”
“Well, in all fairness, mine are coming off too,” he said. “I like to keep things equal.”
“Do you think I’m joking?”
“No, I think you’re overreacting.” He straightened the cuffs of his sleeves. “Why don’t we sit down and eat. Then we can let whatever happens, happen.”
There was no way I was sitting down with him after he’d just told me he wanted to spend the rest of his day fucking me. “I’m not overreacting.”
He looked me up and down. “I didn’t expect this, but I like it. You want me to be the boss, is that it? Order you around?”
“What the hell, Blake? I’m not sleeping with you. I’m not trying to get you to talk me into it, or pretending so you’ll be aggressive about it. I’m saying no. You need to leave.”
He blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Ivy, listen, if I came on too strong, it’s only because of the signals you’re sending,” he said.
“Oh, no, you aren’t turning this around on me,” I said. “I’m not sending any signals. If this is what you thought I wanted, you had the wrong idea.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I think I know exactly what you want. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
“Oh my god, stop,” I said. “Get out. Now.”
In an instant, his body language changed. He stood tall and stiff, the lines of his face all hard edges. “You’re making a huge mistake. I am not a forgiving man.”
“Then my biggest mi
stake was saying yes to you the first time.”
His eyes were cold steel, sending a shiver down my spine. He plucked his coat from the chair and draped it over his arm. With a hard glare at me—one that had Edgar’s low growl rumbling again—he walked out the door.
Edgar followed and stood at the door, guarding the entrance to his domain until the sound of Blake’s car faded.
“What an ass.” I left the food where it was and sat down on the couch. Edgar jumped up and put his head in my lap. I ran my hand down the back of his head. “Was he serious?”
I was sure he’d been quite serious. He’d come over thinking he could push me into sleeping with him. That was a hard no. I hoped he’d take his bruised ego and go elsewhere. I was done with him.
I rubbed Edgar’s head and scratched behind his ears. What would I have done if it had been William at my door with a surprise breakfast? He’d been showing up unannounced, and I’d never been angry about it. Not once.
Of course, William never made me feel like he was barging into my life. And I couldn’t imagine him pushing like that. It was more like he’d been tip-toeing around the outskirts of my world, looking for a way in. Even when he’d been following me, I hadn’t felt violated. He’d still kept a certain distance.
And whether or not I believed his story—which of course I didn’t, because how could I?—I didn’t sense any malice. I’d seen hints that Blake might push too hard. But not William. It was almost as if William saw something I couldn’t yet see, and he was simply waiting for me to catch up.
I wondered what I’d find when I got there.
Puzzles
I looked up at the knock on my office door. It was already half open, and a young woman with a bright smile looked in.
“Happy Monday,” she said, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I have a delivery for Ivy Nichols.”
“That’s me,” I said, a little bewildered. My surprise grew when she revealed a bouquet of flowers in a delicate vase.
She brought them in and set them on my desk. “Have a wonderful day.”
“Wait, who sent these?” I asked.
“There’s a card,” she said with a shrug. “I just deliver them.”
I pulled the card from the plastic fork that held it in place, and opened the envelope.
You love puzzles, especially of language.
~William
William? Why was he sending me flowers? And that message. I did love word puzzles, but why would he put that on a card? Was it to remind me that he inexplicably knew things about me?
The flowers were an odd mix. I wasn’t even sure what they all were. No roses or carnations or baby’s breath—things you might see in a typical bouquet. I recognized purple pansies, and a lighter purple flower with four distinct petals. Mixed among them were little blue blossoms that might have been periwinkle, and clusters of flowers with deep magenta petals and white centers. Woven through it all were sprigs of delicate green ivy.
“Hi, Dr. Nichols.” Lisa, my grad student assistant, looked in from the hallway. “Wow, pretty. They look like wildflowers.”
“Yeah, they do,” I said.
“Who are they from?” she asked.
“Yes, who are they from?” Jessica moved past Lisa and parked herself in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Did Blake send flowers? They’re pretty, but he seems like more of a roses kind of guy. This is an interesting choice.”
“Blake?” Lisa asked. “Who’s Blake?”
“The man she’s dating,” Jessica said, lowering her voice like she was sharing some juicy gossip.
“No, the man I’m not dating,” I said.
“What?” Jessica asked, eyebrow arch on full display.
I widened my eyes at her.
Lisa let out a soft chuckle. “I get the hint. Do you need me to teach on Friday again, Dr. Nichols?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said. Her eyes swept over the flowers, like she could tell they had something to do with why I’d skipped out last Friday. She gave me a knowing smile and shut the door.
“Talk,” Jessica said, pointing a manicured fingernail at me.
“I’m not seeing Blake again,” I said.
“Why?” she asked. “You guys seemed to be getting along so well on Friday.”
“Yeah, well, he puts on a good show.”
“What happened?” she asked. “Did he get pushy when he dropped you off?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but paused. He had been a little pushy, but William had interrupted. “Kind of, but that’s not what did it. He showed up at my house yesterday morning with breakfast.”
“That’s sweet,” she said, but I gave her my own eyebrow arch. “It wasn’t sweet?”
“Not at all,” I said. “He didn’t tell me he was coming, but I could have overlooked that. It was when he started in on how much he wanted to spend the day fucking me that I got uncomfortable.”
She winced. “Too soon, Blake. Way too soon.”
“It got worse from there, but I’ll spare you the specifics,” I said. “He wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. And when I told him to leave, he said I was making a huge mistake and that he’s not a forgiving man.”
“Oh, hell no,” Jessica said. “Not a forgiving man? I’ll show him unforgiving.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“So, what are these?” she asked, gesturing to the flowers. “His attempt at an apology?”
“No,” I said, drawing out the word and looking at the flowers like they might suddenly bite me. “They’re not from Blake.”
Eyebrow arch. “And who, may I ask, are they from?”
I sat back in my chair, like I needed to keep my distance from Jessica. “They’re from William.”
“William, the stalker?”
“He’s not stalking me anymore,” I said.
She rotated a finger, gesturing for me to keep talking.
“Well, not really,” I said. “Stalking is the wrong word anyway. It sounds too dramatic. He’s… he’s my friend.”
“Your friend?” she asked. “First of all, what? And second of all, why is your friend sending you flowers?”
I decided to ignore her first question. “I actually have no idea. Maybe he thought I’d like them.”
“Maybe he’s apologizing for stalking you,” she said, her tone dry. “But male friends don’t send flowers. And these are… they’re pretty, but they don’t look like something a guy would send. Unless he’s a florist or a gardener or something.”
“No, he’s a model.”
“Well… okay, I can see that.” She clicked her tongue. “But Ivy, you see that this is weird, right?”
God, she had no idea how weird it was. But I wasn’t about to bring up the things he’d told me on Saturday. “Yeah, I know. It’s… unconventional. He’s like that, though. He’s different. I think you need to meet him to understand. He’s… I don’t know, he’s William.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” she said.
“Edgar likes him,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Edgar, the most anti-social dog in all of existence? He doesn’t like anyone except you.”
“He likes you fine,” I said.
“He allows me in your presence,” she said. “He doesn’t like me.”
She had a point. “Well, he likes William. He even lets William pet him.”
“How do you know William doesn’t keep dog treats in his pockets?”
I rolled my eyes. “You can’t bribe Edgar that easily, even with treats. Edgar is really friendly with him. I think that’s a good sign.”
“Hmm, maybe,” she said, by which she meant I’m not convinced but I’ll drop it for now.
There was another knock at my door.
“Come on in,” I said.
The door opened and a guy peeked in. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Ivy Nichols?”
“That’s me.”
He pushed open the door and came in carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses. “Where would you like them?”
I stared at him, open-mouthed.
Jessica looked back and forth between me and the guy with the flowers. She pointed to a bookshelf. “How about there.”
He set them down. “Cool. You ladies have a nice day.”
Jessica got up and shut the door behind him, then plucked the card from the plastic holder. “Do you want to read it, or shall I?”
I couldn’t seem to remember how to speak. Or close my mouth.
“Okay, I will.” She slid the card out of the envelope. “Dear Ivy, please accept my apology. I’m an idiot, and I’m so sorry for how I acted yesterday. I hope you’ll give me another chance. Blake.”
“He’s trying to apologize?” I asked.
“Looks like it.” She tossed the card onto the shelf next to the huge mass of red.
“This is so weird,” I said.
She shrugged. “Maybe he’s just really into you, and he thought you felt the same. You caught him off guard when you weren’t.”
“He was an ass,” I said. “He tried to say if he was coming on too strong, it was my fault for sending the wrong signals.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, definitely an ass. But… at least you have pretty flowers? They smell good.”
“I don’t want them,” I said.
“I’ll get rid of them if you want,” she said.
“Please do.”
“What about those?” she asked, pointing at the flowers William had sent.
“Oh, no, these are fine.”
She arched an eyebrow, but picked up the vase of roses. It was so big, she had to balance it on her hip. “All right honey, I have a class in fifteen. Sorry Blake turned out to be a jerk. But be careful with that William guy, okay?”
“I know, I will. And thank you for taking those.”
Jessica left, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. The scent of roses hung heavy in the air. I got up and opened the window. Normally I found the smell of roses pleasant, but those had been stifling. I waved my hand around, trying to get rid of the scent.
Remembering Ivy Page 7
