Since Marian had moved in with her sister and Bane more than three years ago, her world had expanded in unexpected ways. There was being with her siblings plus their add-on family, in the form of the groups living in three houses set close together. Then had come her job and learning the skills necessary to make her efforts at being less of a drain successful. The confidence-bolstering recognition that she was a contributing member of the household was good.
Another area that had been stunted while living with her father was access to TV or shows, or online entertainment. His idea of her expanding her brain had been to learn a new recipe from a lady at church. Marian and Myrt both had soaked up various pop-culture classics, and one of those had given Marian the idea for this morning. It had been the work of moments to adjust her clothing, and the hardest part had been pretending to be clueless about his response to her over-the-top actions.
It had been embarrassing but worth every second. Einstein’s smile, his laughter, and falling into their more typical joking comfortable routine afterwards—she’d do it a hundred times over, just for that.
Parking behind the shop was effortless after so many trips just the same, and she hesitated only a moment before exiting the car and walking inside.
It wasn’t uncommon for her to check in on days when she wasn’t scheduled, and she hadn’t been lying to Myrt earlier. The two girls who did the greenery prep for pieces were both cheerleaders, which meant they were out as late or later than the players.
The only thing hard to predict was Noah Penrose, the owner of Penrose and Peonies. They’d become friends over her time working for him, and with the information he’d pried out of her during their conversations, he’d be sure to know why she’d escaped home this morning even before she opened her mouth.
No time like the present. The sooner she got inside, the faster she’d be able to get her fingers into the flowers and stop worrying.
Pushing through the back door, she stepped into a typical scene of happy chaos she’d come to love. Noah’s voice came from the front of the shop, a bouncy, excited tone he reserved for people who were customers but not friends. He’d told her once that he had to be “on” for certain sectors of the community, fulfilling their expectations of how a gay florist acted. Closer to hand, Whitney, one of the older part-time assistants, looked up sharply, her face relaxing as soon as she recognized Marian.
A glance around the workroom revealed her instincts had been right. The other two spots that should have been busy creating arrangements for two funerals today were empty and still, with nothing in prep.
She stepped close with a quick side-hug for Whitney, who whispered, “He’s in a mood.”
“When is he ever not?” Marian joked back, earning a grin. “I’ll let him know I’m here, then be right back to get started. Get done with that one, and then lay out the work orders for me?” Whitney nodded, gaze already back on the arrangement she’d been working on when Marian came inside.
She pulled the swinging door back and peeked around it. Noah was behind the counter, which meant he was either about to ring up a sale or had just finished, and by the way the elderly customer was tucking away her wallet in an agonizingly slow ballet of movement, they were in the final stages of the exchange. Three people had lined up behind that customer, gift items in their hands. Each would need packing and wrapping, and she mentally gauged the size of the items as she called out, “Noah, I’m going to get started on things.” Noah’s head whipped around, and he glared at her, proof of his mood mentioned by Whitney. “Ohhhkay. I’ll just”—she thumbed over her shoulder—“be back here.”
Prepping the necessary items on the packing table, she left an array of them in the order Noah would need when he came back to deal with the process. Over at the flower table, Whitney had placed a fan of printed orders arranged near Marian’s normal station before moving on to a second simple vase arrangement. Marian picked through the requests, sliding a couple of the easier basket container instructions across the table for Whitney, who didn’t look up, just nodded as she continued working with the greenery in her hands.
Then she got to work.
From being certain she’d be hopeless at the job in the beginning to the self-confidence that drove her fingers today, she’d created a lot of arrangements. There’d been simple vases of adorned roses for wives and girlfriends sent as apologies from their partners, as well as elaborate funeral sprays requiring not only precise placement of the requested greenery stems but also an eye towards the critical timing for the presentation. Florists used ampules of water to keep individual large stem pieces from drying, but knowing the flowers would be on display for days meant they waited until the last minute to actually apply the stock to the arrangement. Everything was a careful balance of beauty and function.
When Noah walked into the workroom with the first gift item in hand, she and Whitney had already finished with a couple of the orders. Marian looked up to see the lines on his face ease and knew she’d done well by ensuring he could see even a few completed items. While not quite feast or famine, like all small one-owner businesses, Penrose and Peonies was subject to economic swings, and funerals were big business, steady as life and death. They might be the only florist directly in town, but many of the larger shops in neighboring communities were willing to deliver even though it was a fair distance, and as Noah had often reminded her, they had to remember their customers always had options.
“Hey, bossman.” His grimace made her grin. She’d picked up the phrase from the FRMC members who called Bane their president, and Noah knew it. “Looked like sales were brisk out there.”
“Yes, well. It’s been an okay day so far.” Pausing in front of the packing table, he glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks, doll.”
“Anything for my favorite guy.” Marian spun the design she was working on, the turntable moving smoothly underneath her direction. The shears she loved to use were comfortable in her hand, and she used them to cut a new stem to the right length before threading it between the tape stabilizers already in place on the vase. “I figured the girls would call in later than normal with their lame apologies.”
“I’m paying you for today.” Noah stopped in the doorway, hand out to catch the door. “And you’re not going to argue with me about it. I’m in a mood.”
“So I heard.” She kept her retort quiet and waited until he was back into the front of the shop to grin to herself when Whitney giggled.
It was several hours later before they caught up with the morning’s influx of orders. The calls and drop-ins had continued, keeping Noah busy up front and her and Whitney sticking to their normal frantic pace in the back. As arrangements and vases went through the door to be handed off to their buyers, Marian experienced the same sense of awe and excitement she always did. People would be looking at things she’d made and smiling. With arrangements intended to stay fresh for days, the work she did today would help lift their spirits for a span of time they might not otherwise enjoy. Even the funeral flowers were a work of love for her, ensuring that someone’s loved one was sent off with a visible reminder of how much they’d mattered.
“Marian, you’ve got a visitor.” Noah’s singsong announcement was followed by the swinging door opening wide. “I’m just sending him straight back.”
Einstein walked into the room, glancing around at everything before his gaze landed on Marian.
This is new. He’d been in town countless times since she’d started working at the florist, but even though the clubhouse was only a couple of blocks away, he’d never visited.
“Hey.” Not pausing in her work, she cupped the rose bloom in one hand, using the thorn stripper with the other. “What’s up?” Moving swiftly through the array of stems in front of her required attentiveness, so she only flicked glances to where he was prowling along one edge of the room. “Everything okay with Myrtle?”
“Yeah. Myrt’s fine.” He reached the corner near the back door and turned to face the room. “
You don’t have any security cameras in here?”
Caught off guard, she slipped, and a rogue thorn caught a jagged edge against the inside of a finger. “Ow.” Lifting the offending stem, she glared at it before finishing stripping the thorns. “No, no cameras.” Whitney giggled, and Marian gave her a grin. “Why, you planning on doing something bad?”
“No.” He seemed to move between blinks, appearing next to her and holding out his hand. “Let me see.” His hands cradled hers, lifting. “That’s not too bad.” His thumb caressed tenderly before bringing her digit to his lips. “I think you’ll live.” Dry heat hit her skin as his mouth molded to her finger.
Heat flooded her face and she yanked her hand back. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, ma’am, you are.” The flirty tone in his voice couldn’t be her imagination, and when he reached for her hand again, she shoved it behind her like a naughty child, caught out doing something wrong.
“What are you doing?”
Einstein didn’t react to her hissed question. The man wasn’t behaving the way he normally did, joking and teasing. He’d practically ignored her this morning after they had company, not even giving her a wave when she’d left to come to town. His behavior now didn’t make sense.
“Thought I’d take you to lunch.” A glance at the clock over the door to the shop told her it was past time to eat. “Noah said you could take a break.”
What the…? He’d asked Noah if he could take her to lunch? With Bane and the men of the FRMC she’d learned the direct route was generally the right way to go, and Einstein wasn’t any different. “Einstein, what’s going on?”
“I just wanna talk to you, baby.”
Baby? They weren’t into sweet nicknames. This wasn’t the kind of friendship Marian had with him.
Einstein’s palm skated up her arm and over her shoulder, coming to rest against the base of her neck, where his fingers gave her a squeeze that set her insides trembling. “Let’s go to lunch.”
Better to play along with him and find out what’s wrong. “Whitney, I’m going to lunch.”
Looking more like himself, Einstein grinned at her words, and Marian just shook her head, not understanding. “You should break too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Whitney moved through the back door so quickly she was already out of sight before Marian could turn.
“Okay, she’s gone. Now you can just tell me what’s going on.”
Einstein bent closer until his face was only inches away from Marian’s. “Told you, Marian. Wanna feed my baby.” That dangerous flirty tone had reappeared, curling around her heart in a way she liked too much.
She stepped back, breaking his hold, waiting for the laughter she was sure would be coming. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I don’t like it.”
“Come to lunch.” His features molded back into the expression she expected from him, pleasant but distant. Friendly. “I’ll explain everything.”
Tongue tracing the inside of her front teeth, she stared at him. Not finding what she needed, Marian turned back to her station and tidied everything, ensuring all the stems were in water as necessary and trashing the debris from her earlier efforts. “Okay.” Without looking back at Einstein, she started towards the back door, brought up short by his hand on her forearm.
“Let’s go out the front.” His fingers laced with hers, and he used the grip to tug her towards the swinging door. “Come on, baby.”
Marian followed him blindly, gaze fixed on where their hands joined them. His hold was tight but gentle, and with bemused amusement, she noticed he steered her deftly around any obstacles in their way, leading her through the shop.
“Have fun at lunch, you two.” Noah’s lilting dismissal yanked Marian out of her fugue, and she lifted her eyes to glare at him. Nothing but joy radiated from him, so whatever had him so amused wasn’t at her expense. She glanced around the shop, identifying two women browsing through the baby gifts nearby as leaders in the local church. “No rush, Einstein. You can keep our girl as long as you want.”
Marian jerked her attention back to him, but he’d already turned away to take care of the person in front of the counter. Our girl? Marian had no idea what that even meant.
Einstein chuckled and called back, “Thanks, Noah.”
On the sidewalk, Marian tried unsuccessfully to reclaim her hand, but Einstein folded their arms together, pressing the back of her wrist firmly against his side. Hot and cold. “Einstein,” she hissed, glancing around. Downtown Baker wasn’t bustling by any means, and she didn’t see anyone around who would be impressed by his manhandling of her. “Let me go.”
“No, baby.” His shoulder bumped hers. Marian looked up to see he’d turned a tolerant smile her direction, eyes dancing with humor.
Baby. Marian wished her heart would stop leaping every time he used that sweet name. She forced herself to remember how he’d morphed back into his normal self in the back of the store. It’s a game to him. He’s probably bet Horse or someone that he could get me to sit a meal with him. That thought sent a wave of heat to prickle at the backs of her eyes. Would Einstein do that? Would he use her in that way? It’s just a game. The evidence in front of her led her to believe he would, which changed her estimation of him.
“Lies and playacting aren’t my strong suit.” Marian yanked at her hand again, pulling hard enough that Einstein stopped abruptly and swung in a half circle to face her. “Let me go.” Chin angled down, she kept pulling, twisting as she tried to reject his hold. “Pick somebody else to play your games with.”
“Marian.” Soft and low, his voice held a weight of some emotion she didn’t try to decipher. Fingers gripped her chin and lifted, forcing her gaze to meet his face. “It’s not a game.”
She stared into his eyes, focus flitting from one orb to the other, struggling to make sense of what looked like pain and grief.
“Ride on the bike with me. Come to lunch. I’ll explain everything.” His mouth opened and closed, bottom lip caught for an instant between white teeth. “Promise.” Einstein leaned in, his intention obvious, and Marian turned her head at the last moment, leaving his lips to graze her cheek instead. “Please.” Mouth so close to her ear his breath raised goose bumps along the skin of her arms, he whispered, “Maid Marian.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Marian hated how her voice shook, didn’t want him to know how much the closeness affected her.
“Just say yes.” Ghosting across the skin near her ear, his words preceded a wave of heat she belatedly understood was his mouth on her again.
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” Einstein pulled back slightly, still so close she could have closed the gap in an instant to press her lips to his. “Bike’s right down here, next to the clubhouse.” His fingers gave hers a squeeze. “I’ll keep you safe, Marian.”
“I know.” She stepped away as far as the leash of their joined hands allowed. “I trust you.” His body jolted as if with a blow, and she watched his Adam’s apple dance under the skin of his neck as he swallowed hard. “Lead on.”
He stared down at her, face impassive. “All right.”
He guided their steps to where his bike sat along the side of the building, behind the fencing securing the lot. In a move she’d become well acquainted with through the years, he handed her a helmet, his gaze not leaving her as they both secured the gear. She waited for him to straddle the bike before climbing on. Her hands went to his waist naturally, the position as comfortable as ever. She didn’t flinch when the bike started with a roar, just scooted closer to Einstein and gripped the waistband of his jeans tightly.
Same as always. The normality of the moment did a lot to settle her nerves. He’ll tell me whatever’s going on, and we’ll laugh at how funny he was with the sweet talk.
Nothing was changing.
Same as always.
***
Einstein
He shouldn’t like this so much.
Shouldn’t, but did.
They whipped past the city limit sign, and when Marian shifted behind him, he anticipated her question.
“Going to Quails.” At his shout over his shoulder, her fingers tapped an irregular rhythm along his waist, and she subsided. Firm contact between his shoulder blades was her head and helmet.
The diner in town wouldn’t work for the conversation he intended to have with Marian.
He forced his muscles to relax. His phone calls today had uncovered a variety of information, none of it welcome. From everything he could find, Scar was on the move. Through the years, Einstein had received enough indirect messages from the asshole to know Scar was tracking Einstein just as fervently. So whatever this new move was, Scar had to know the information highway would take rumors both ways. Scar’s moves over the past couple of days might have been for an unknown reason, but the man had made himself visible in a way that meant he wanted to telegraph what he was doing.
Whatever that is.
One of the more direct messages had been a recitation of an overheard conversation, and as he remembered that reveal, the sweat on his body evaporated, leaving him chilled.
“Man said he’d never heard a voice so filled with rage.” Smoke’s whisper filled up Einstein’s hearing, the information so necessary it overwrote the crackling on the line. “Said Scar was twirling like a dervish at the idea of his enemy finding happiness. You and I know that role is filled by just one person, and I wanted to make sure you heard the stories fast.”
Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway Page 20
