Twelve of Roses - Natalie Bennett Page 0,16

Vicky pounded on the door.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

What an excellent question.

If this were a movie, it would be the part that would freeze-frame before a wise narrator began to explain all the ways Constantine Burrows was going to tear my world apart and drag me down to hell.

“Con, I should—”

“No,” he growled, like a Tasmanian devil, and gently pushed me back towards his bed. “I can handle her. I’ll decide when you leave this room.” He smiled innocently at me, all signs of anger gone.

He was good.

“In the morning?” I asked softly, going back to the demure girl he knew me as.

“In the morning. Now get in bed and lie on your back. I’ll only be a minute.” He slipped out of the room and shut the door behind them.

His and Vicky’s whispered words carried down the hallway, too low for me to hear them. Looking over at his bed, I began taking everything off and doing as he told me.

Little did I know that no one would see the girl they knew as Roselynn Morgue for a very long time.

Chapter Eight

Present

It was never okay to ring a doorbell at seven in the morning. Especially mine. My big house was virtually empty, making the chimes that much louder and my head throb. Not having to work until four, I’d planned on sleeping in. The person continuously ringing my doorbell had blown that plan to shit.

Stumbling off my air mattress, I scrubbed a hand over my face, ambling to the front door. A steady drip, drip sound came from the living room, signaling that the water dripping from the ceiling was close to overflowing the bucket.

“Motherfucker,” I muttered as the bell chimed again. Angrily flinging the heavy oak door open, I planted a hand on my hip, not giving a flying fuck that the only thing I had on was a thong and tank top. They were the ones at my door, after all.

All that boldness disappeared the instant I saw who it was.

“Max?”

Now wide awake, I stared at him, taking a quick inventory of the coffee carrier in his hands and a small brown bag. I’d expected to see the guy around town a time or two, maybe. He wasn’t supposed to show up at my doorstep.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” he drawled, a huge grin on his face.

He smelled amazing and looked even better, wearing a simple white T-shirt that fit him like a glove, and dark denim jeans. But not even his good looks and southern accent could ease my discomfort.

“How do you know where I live?” I questioned, peering over his shoulder.

“Oh, I live across the lane.” He jerked his head in the direction of the large house, his smile never faltering.

“Just wait until you see the guy next door,” were the exact words the realtor had said.

“Oh my god.” I couldn’t help but laugh. What better way was there to meet the neighbor than letting him bend you over the hood of your car?

“I saw you pull the sign out of the yard the day you moved in. I was getting ready to head to work,” he confessed.

“And you were all the way at Gooskis because…?”

“It’s the only dive in town.”

His reasoning was the exact same as mine; I couldn’t find fault in it. We eyed one another for a few silent beats. He looked at me like the sun was orbiting my face. I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or uncomfortable.

“Come in.” Shaking my head, I turned and headed for the kitchen, peeking over my shoulder to make sure he was following. Of course, his eyes were locked on my ass. He quickly looked away when he saw me watching him, glancing everywhere else but back at me. Smothering a laugh, I shook my head, deciding not to make a big deal about it.

I knew it was impossible not to notice the major lack of furniture, the walls that desperately needed painting, and the overall depressing state of the house, but Max, being the gentleman I pegged him for, didn’t say a word.

“So, why didn’t you introduce yourself sooner?” I asked as we entered the kitchen, gesturing to the round wooden table for us to sit at.

“I didn’t think I’d see you at Gooskis,” he replied with a shrug, leaving out the rest of our nightly festivities.

“This is for you.” He sat one of the coffees in front of me and pulled a large blueberry muffin from the brown bag.

“Thank you.” I