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I grimace at the wetness then slosh across to the greenhouse, my skin prickling at the cool water. I shiver and then head up the stairs and open the glass door. I step inside and it’s like entering another world.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
The scent of flowers fills my nostrils, and I walk down a long aisle, past tables and racks of soil and seeds, and then between the beds. A sea of roses stretches out in front of me. Roses of every color, red, white, peach, pink, and yellow. There’s even a row of peach roses. I’m drawn to that row.
I move over to it and crouch in front of the beautiful flowers, shaking my head.
Savage grows flowers? Not just any flowers, but roses? My favorite flower.
I lean forward and sniff the closest rose, smiling. The scent is light, not overpowering, but distinct. There’s a white plastic plaque sticking from the bed that contains the peach roses. I brush my fingers across it, tracing the lines of Savage’s handwritten text.
For Charlotte
“Charlotte?” I murmur. “Who’s Charlotte?”
A door slams, and I jerk upright.
Savage stands between the tables near the front of the greenhouse, and his face is contorted. A mixture of pain and anger. “What are you doing in here?” he asks.
“Savage? I?—”
“What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“I-I was trying to find you. I wanted to talk about what happened, and I?—”
“So you thought you would come in here and snoop around?” he asks. “Is that it?”
“No. What are you talking about?” I ask. “I was trying to find you, and I thought because it’s so cold out, that maybe you came in here to keep warm while you talked to my brother.” I swallow.
Savage is breathing like a winded bull. “I told you not to leave through the back door, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but then you said that I could?—”
“I fucking told you.” He turns and shoves one of the tables over, releasing a frustrated shout.
I jolt back a step. “What are you doing?” My throat tightens. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He glares at me, his gaze dark and unyielding. He takes several breaths like he’s forcibly bringing himself under control. “Get out of here.”
“What?”
“Get out of my greenhouse. Now.” He points to the door.
Tears well in my eyes. I stare at him, shaking my head. “Whatever. Just, whatever.” I walk past him, holding my head high, ignoring the waves of heat and anger that radiate from him.
I walk down the steps into the water and head toward the back of the house, my pulse racing. I don’t know what I just found, but I’m guessing that whatever it is, Savage didn’t want me to see it or know about it.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his broken heart, and his rage, and anger. Fuck him and his stupid beard.
I might’ve done the wrong thing, but I don’t have to put up with a man yelling at me about it.
I head into his bedroom and slam the door behind me, and the tears spill over and stream down my cheeks. I slap them away and enter the bathroom. I blow my nose and release a breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
My hair’s a mess, my cheeks are pink, my eyes red. “What is this?” I ask. “What the hell is going on?”
I am not about what I’m feeling right now.
I don’t understand what’s going on with Savage. He’s been kind to me, caring, and protective, but I won’t accept a man yelling at me like that. Not when he won’t even tell me what the hell he’s yelling about. Everyone has boundaries, and yes, I crossed his by going out of the back door, but he’s crossed mine by raising his voice at me a second time.
