Page 8 of Vampires and Violas (A Vampire’s Guide to Gardening #2)

7

Once again, I pull up to my newest subscriber’s house just before noon. Sam is my last morning stop, and my mind is already on lunch.

Even though it’s partly cloudy, the weather forecast said it’s going to reach the high nineties. It’s also the height of our tourist season, and the traffic has been horrible all day.

I don’t mind it too much, though. It just means more people will be at Friday’s farmer’s market.

After carefully tucking Sam’s bouquet into my arms like a beauty queen, I walk up the drive. There’s a sprinkler set up on the front lawn with an attachment shaped like a surfing shark, and a couple of beach towels hang over the rail next to the front step.

I ring the doorbell, wondering if I’ll meet Sam’s wife this time.

But a boy in swim trunks answers the door. He’s probably about seven, with damp sandy hair and a skinny build. A melting, lime-green ice pop drips down his hand.

“Hey,” I say. “I have a delivery for your mom or dad.”

“Mom’s at work, and Dad’s not here.”

“Okay…well. Whoever is watching you will be fine.”

Surely someone’s home with this kid, right?

Much to my relief, Sam appears behind the boy. He ruffles his hair and says to him, “What did I say about answering the door?”

“To not to.”

“Go out back with your sister. Careful not to drip on the floor as you go.”

The boy walks away, leaving Sam standing in the doorway.

“Sorry about that.” He offers me a friendly smile. “I was upstairs, and he beat me to the door.”

“It’s all right. He said his dad wasn’t home, though.”

“Oh, I’m not his dad. I’m his uncle. I watch my nephew and niece a few times a week while my sister’s at work.” He presses his tattooed forearm against the doorframe and smiles.

“That’s nice of you.”

He shrugs good-naturedly. “Summer break can be tricky, and she didn’t want to put them in daycare. My work is flexible, so I was able to move around my schedule to help out.”

“What do you do?”

Sam looks startled by the question, but then he smiles. “Computer stuff. Coding. Things like that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say lamely, because I’m not technical in the slightest, and I have no idea how else to respond.

He nods to the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Oh, yes,” I say, suddenly remembering the bouquet and offering it to him, relieved that he seems pleased with the pink roses and pale lime hydrangeas. Right now, my perennial bushes are keeping my business afloat. The spring planting season really was a nasty time to get sick.

“These are great.” He gives me another dimpled smile, the picture of rugged, boyish charm. “Thanks, Piper.”

“You’re welcome. See you next week.”

Curious who the flowers are for, but not nosy enough to ask, I wave as I leave the porch.

My thoughts turn to my limited stock once I’m in my truck. I’ve reached a point in my business where I almost can’t handle everything on my own, at least not everything I want to do. I wish I had the money to expand, maybe hire someone. Olivia is great in a pinch, but I can’t afford to take her on full-time, and I don’t think she’d be interested in the growing side of things anyway.

I ponder it until I reach my house, and then my thoughts are stolen by a deep burgundy car out front. Noah must have gone into the office because his SUV is missing, and I haven’t heard from Cassian today.

A sudden burst of anxiety makes me a little lightheaded. Maybe having a stalker has made me skittish.

As I pass the car to head to the back where I usually park my truck, a woman steps out of the driver’s side door.

She’s professional and polished, dressed in a silky white sleeveless blouse and short black trouser shorts. Her hair is dark, and she’s wearing sunglasses and carrying a scarlet purse that probably cost more than my truck.

I think about going in through the back and pretending I’m not here, but it’s not like I can hide when she saw me pull in.

But something about her is unsettling.

Wishing I wasn’t alone, I walk to the front to greet her.

“Hi there,” I say, pretending people drop by all the time. “Can I help you?”

“I was just at NIHA’s administration office,” she says. “They told me I would find Montgomery York here.”

The first thing that catches my attention is her use of Noah’s first name. His friends use his middle.

The second is that she parked under the shade of the cottonwood tree and seems reluctant to leave it.

The third is that she has an accent, but like Cassian’s, it’s difficult to pin down.

Everything about her is long—long legs, long arms, long hair. She looks like a French model, down to her red lips.

“I’m afraid he’s not in right now,” I say. “Do you want me to tell him you dropped by?”

“Would you mind?” She extends a glossy black business card toward me but doesn’t leave the tree's protective shade.

As I question whether I dare move closer to the vampire, the clouds shift over the sun, muting its light.

Glancing at the sky, the woman walks forward, navigating the gravel in her red stiletto heels like she was born in them. She offers me the card, lifting a dark eyebrow questioningly—probably sensing my nerves.

Pretending she isn’t freaking me out, I take the card. “I’ll tell Montgomery you stopped by.”

She nods and gets back into her car. I hold my breath until she leaves the drive and then look down at the card.

Larissa Valentine.

There’s an email address, a phone number, and some kind of logo.

This is odd enough, I should probably tell Noah now. I slip my phone out of my back pocket and pull up his name. I think the call will go to voicemail, but he finally picks up.

“Hey, Piper,” he says. “What’s up?”

“A woman dropped by the house looking for you. Larissa Valentine.”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“She asked for Montgomery. She gave me a contact card.”

“What did she want?”

“She didn’t say, but judging from the way she stuck to the shadows, she was either a final-stage vampire or a second-stage who forgot to put on sunscreen.”

Ever perceptive, his tone sharpens as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“It was a little unnerving,” I admit. “She had a strange vibe.”

“And what did you say her name was again?”

After I tell him, his voice goes muffled as he asks someone, “Do you know a Larissa Valentine?”

A familiar voice answers, “No, but I’ll have my people look her up.”

“Are you with Cassian?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound happy about it. “We’re tracking down pre-vamps who have information missing from their files. Cassian came with me to read their lines.”

“Find anything interesting so far?” I ask, though I’m not sure he’s even allowed to tell me.

“Nothing surprising. Most of the people we’ve talked to have been from Cassian’s line.”

“The work of his vampire girlfriend, I’m assuming?”

“Most likely.”

I pause, a strange thought occurring to me. “You don’t think that’s who this woman was, do you?”

“She’d have to be pretty bold to show up at the house. And I can’t imagine she’d deliver herself to my doorstep while we’re looking for her.”

“Good point.”

“Are you done with your deliveries?”

“I’m going to eat some lunch and then head out again. Will you be home for dinner?”

“Yeah. Do you want to eat at home or go out? Or I can grab takeout.”

This is a normal conversation for a landlady and her tenant, right? Cozy dinners are part of the contract, I’m sure. Cozy dinners. Cozy breakfasts. Cozy make-out sessions on the couch.

All very normal and standard.

“We’ll figure it out when you get home,” I say, heading inside.

“While I have you on the phone—I’m expecting a box today. I just got a message saying it should be there shortly, and someone must sign for it.”

“No problem. I’ll be here for a little bit.”

We end the call, and I prep my lunch. I’m just pouring my peach smoothie into a glass when the doorbell rings. Spooked after meeting with the vampire woman, I jump half a foot in the air.

Cautiously, I peek out the kitchen window. When I see it’s just the delivery driver, I open the door for him, my eyes moving to the small white box in his hand.

“Afternoon,” he says briskly, offering me a digital tablet. “I just need a quick signature.”

After signing, the man gives me the package, bids me a good day, and jogs down the porch, hurrying to his next stop.

Returning to the kitchen, I set the box on the counter and text Noah. Fifteen minutes later, my phone alerts me that he’s arrived at the house.

“Hey,” he says when he and Cassian walk into the kitchen, immediately heading for the package.

I take a sip of smoothie, frowning because his face is sort of red. “I thought you two were out interviewing people.”

“We were, but Noah is turning into a lobster,” Cassian says.

“You do look kind of sunburned,” I say, peering at him.

Noah opens the box and inspects the contents. “I ran out of my daylight drugs. The box they sent last week went to Denver, and I missed the tracking email. Some porch pirate swiped them. That’s why they requested a signature upon delivery this time.”

“You can’t pick them up at the pharmacy?”

“Not these. We get them directly from the pharmaceutical company we’ve partnered with. You must be registered with NIHA to get it, and only our doctors can request it for a patient.”

“Will you be all right?” I ask. “It’s kind of sunny today.”

“Yeah, I’ve only missed a few days. It stays in your system for a while.”

“It must be wearing out, though.”

Noah pulls the bottle from the box. “That’s why Cassian insisted we come home after you texted it was here.” He pours a glass of water and takes one of the capsules. “Okay, let’s head back out. We have four more people I want to talk to today.”

“Are you sure you should go out there like that?” I ask. “Surely the drugs don’t start working that quickly?”

“I’ll put on more sunscreen.” His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Hey, Daniel. Yeah, I saw the email. I need you to…”

He wanders into the living room, and Cassian shakes his head. “He’s stubborn.”

“No kidding.” I gesture toward the fridge. “I put a new carton of broth in there this morning if you want some.”

He helps himself to a glass from the cupboard. “How did your morning deliveries go?”

“Fine.” I flip through an old winter seed catalog as I drink my smoothie. “I think I might sell flower seedlings next year, in addition to the houseplants and succulents I have up in my growing room.”

“Instead of cut flowers?” he asks, sounding like he’s actually interested, though he’s probably just being polite.

“No, in addition to the cut flowers. I’ll have to fix up my greenhouse, though. It was one of those kits. Grandpa bought it about twenty years ago, and it’s falling apart.”

“I know a guy who could build you a new one.”

Cassian knows a guy for everything.

“Let me think about it for a bit first. I’m not sure I can afford to make any modifications this year. Besides, I doubt I have room to expand. Not without tearing out a bunch of the landscape, which wouldn’t make Grandma or Grandpa very happy.”

“Or you,” Cassian points out.

I nod, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing to use Grandma’s old vegetable garden plot for cut flowers. It’s another to plow under all their landscaping.

“Maybe you need a rich benefactor to invest in your business?” Cassian says.

I look up from the magazine, smiling. “Are you offering?”

“Maybe.” He leans against the counter and takes a sip of his broth. “How much do you need? A hundred thousand? A couple hundred?”

I nearly choke. “I’m honored the Bank of Chevalier is interested in doing business with me, but I think I’m going to pass.”

Right now, I’m not in debt. And with a business based on something as unnecessary as flowers, I think that’s a good thing.

“Think about it. If you change your mind, I’m not hard to find.”

“No kidding. You’re usually in my house.”

Noah returns to the kitchen and asks Cassian, “You ready to go?”

The vampire drains the last of his broth. “Now I am.”

Noah frowns at the prescription bottle on the counter like he just remembered it. “I need to run these upstairs.”

“I can do it,” I tell him. “Do you want it in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom?”

“Yeah.” He pulls a bag of beef jerky out of the cupboard and heads for the door. “Thanks.”

“That’s not your lunch, is it?”

“It’s all I need.”

“But there are a ton of nitrates in that. I’m not sure you should make a meal out of it.”

“It doesn’t matter when you’re a vampire.”

I don’t have an argument for that. He’s right—nitrates won’t kill him. Nothing will kill him, except a stake or a bullet or some other physical blow. Even then, it would have to be severe, or his body would just regenerate.

Cassian follows Noah out the door, and I finish my smoothie, sighing over the seed catalog one last time. Then I take the prescription upstairs.

It feels a little weird going into the spare bathroom—like I’m invading Noah’s space, even though it’s my house.

His shaving cream is on the counter, along with his deodorant and comb, and his shampoo and body wash are in the shower. He even has a black bath poof that I’d love to tease him about, but the mental image of him using it pops in my head, and I decide that’s a subject best left alone.

Feeling like I’m snooping, I open the medicine cabinet. My hand freezes on the door, my eyes scanning the contents.

There are so many prescription bottles all lined up, each with names I don’t recognize.

“It takes so many drugs to keep a vampire sane,” I murmur, a funny feeling coiling in my stomach.

Without these, Noah wouldn’t be stable. He wouldn’t be the Noah I know.

It’s a scary thought, but maybe I’m thinking into it too much. A lot of people have to take medicine for their mental health. Is this any different?

But the truth is, it feels different. Without these, Noah would be a vampire from the books and movies. A night-dwelling, blood-lusting monster.

And if I’m not careful, I might end up just like him.

I shiver as I place the daylight drugs on the shelf with the others, glad for modern medicine. Then I leave his bathroom and head out to make the rest of my deliveries.