Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,70

it now. You should get it done before summer or if you—”

“Yes, yes, but don’t shout it at me. I have to write it down. Come inside.” The crack widened.

I tucked away my smile at her sudden change of heart but glanced at the car, thinking of that nap.

Eh, I didn’t really have anywhere to be.

I walked up the driveway. “Sure, why not. Do you have peppermint tea?”

She swung the door wide and stepped aside to let me in. “Think I have a few bags leftover. I buy it for when my sister visits from Frankton Gorge.”

I slipped inside and waited on the worn cream carpet as she shut the door. “I love Frankton Gorge. Bluff City is so flat, it’s nice to be in the green hills sometimes.”

Mrs Gaughton cackled. “Especially with those wineries.”

Wine.

My stomach roiled and I blanched.

“Are you okay?” the woman, mid-sixties from her file, asked.

An excuse hovered on the tip of my tongue. Then I remembered Live Right could go suck a big dick.

“I got plastered last night. A couple of bottles of wine. I’m hungover.”

Mrs Gaughton snorted, patting my forearm before dragging me through the house. “Can’t say I envy you that. Two weeks ago, I overindulged in my extended Sunday lunch and was in a sorry state. Have you eaten?”

I glanced around the house as she led me into a cramped kitchen with a round table in the middle of the space. Pretty nice for Orange, really. Some of the rooms were on the tiny side, but the place was in good repair. Nicer than Tommy’s.

My stomach lurched again.

Tommy hadn’t replied to my messages before I left the office for lunch. Beast would be dead in my pack by now, but I’d text her again as soon as I could, even if that meant Kyros reading my texts.

“Nah, not today,” I admitted. Or maybe four days.

“A bit of grease to line the stomach then,” she declared, and got to work in the kitchen. “I always do the same on a Monday.”

“Sounds like your extended Sunday lunch is a party,” I said with a small laugh.

“Just a bottle of Shiraz and a few vodkas. But sometimes they go down so smooth, I add an afternoon cap or three.”

Mrs Gaughton got wasted every Sunday.

Withholding my grin, I took a seat at the table and within minutes had my hands wrapped around a piping hot peppermint tea. The woman whipped around the cramped space in a frenzy, pulling out cheese, onions, butter, and bread. She slapped everything together and set the sandwich to fry in a pan. Whatever it was, it smelled freakin’ delicious.

Only then did Mrs Gaughton yank open a drawer to pull out a floral notebook. The word garden was scrawled across the front in black marker.

“I need everything you’ve got on lavender,” she spat. “It’s the third one I’ve planted in the same spot. At this point, it’s personal.”

I puzzled over her ferocity for a second before closing my eyes. “Right, let me soak up everything my grandmother says about them.” Overwatering was the main thing. And well-drained soil.

Keeping my eyes closed, I pictured my grandmother—dressed in one of her token skirt suits—ambling about the lavender terraces. And I began to rattle off everything I could recall about lavender.

At some point, the older woman slid a plate in front of me, and I opened my eyes to eat the cheese and onion toasty, chewing on the deliciousness when Mrs Gaughton was furiously writing down a tip.

“You don’t think the lavender will die because I pruned it too early?” She studied her notes.

“No idea,” I replied. “You’ll have to wait and see with that one.”

She hummed, tapping the pen against her red lips, spreading the smear farther. “I’d love if the bush was thriving by my sister’s next visit.”

“You have the one?” I asked. “I don’t have any siblings.”

Standing abruptly—I was learning everything was that way with her—Mrs Gaughton placed her notebook back in the drawer and lingered at the bench, cleaning the pan and setting the kitchen to order once more.

“Yes, just the one,” she answered eventually. “She’ll visit in two weeks.”

I smiled at the yearning in her voice. “That sounds lovely. I hope the lavender plays game for you.”

She turned and smiled. “So do I. If it does, it will be thanks to you.”

“I’ll have to drive by and check on it.” I winked, getting to my feet.

I followed her back to the door, checking my watch. Shoot, I’d spent more time here