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Unavoidable.
God, I didn’t even know the man. And still, these reckless, perilous thoughts of him had plagued me for the last six days.
A dark stranger named River who was haunting me at the edges of my mind.
I couldn’t scrape the memory of the way that buzzy energy had swarmed between us.
It had made me feel as if I were being drugged.
Hypnotized.
Affected.
Wanting something I’d been terrified of for most of my adult life.
To be touched.
Leave it to me that the first time I experienced that sensation it would be at the hands of a man who whispered of danger and malevolence.
But God, there’d been something tender about him, too. Something that was muddled by the ferocity that oozed from his being.
And here I was, being an idiot for even contemplating it.
Shoving those thoughts down, too, I tightened my hold on the strap of my bag and increased my pace, leaving the small medical plaza where I worked behind.
This area basically housed all the medical professionals in Moonlit Ridge and was the busiest section in town.
Two square blocks of roads that intersected, each boasting a light.
I crossed the street at the next intersection, and the more professional buildings gave way to restaurants and shops like Culberry Street flaunted, though here, they were more charming than trendy.
My apartment was in the middle of that block and on the second floor of a two-story building.
It was quaint and cute with white brick walls and blue shutters, and the two apartments had balconies wrapped in ornate black wrought-iron and overlooked the street.
The first floor was inhabited by a small café and a floral shop called Moonflower.
I went to pass by so I could round to the exterior steps that were on the side of the building that led to the landing of my apartment above, only I stalled out when I smelled the delicious scent of flowers wafting out through the white, wooden door that had been left propped open.
An A-frame chalkboard sitting out front read:
Sniffs are free – the rest are buy one, get three!
A bunch of flowers and swirls were drawn around it, and I couldn’t help but smile as I shifted course and stepped through the door.
Inside, it carried the same quaintness of the exterior, a full country chic vibe with a splash of whimsy.
Two long aisles of fresh cut flowers ran down the middle, sitting in metal tubs that slotted into the wooden holes made in the display frames.
Along the two side walls were glass refrigerated cases with different bouquets in varying styles of vases, and a whitewashed wooden counter ran the back where the woman who owned the shop clipped fresh cut flowers and arranged them.
I’d been in a couple of times before, enough that when the owner stepped out from the back, a warm smile of recognition lit her face.
“Hey, Charleigh,” she enthused, wiping off her hands on the apron she wore over a black denim jumper.
She had her long hair that was the color of the night sky in a braid that she then had twisted on her head, and a bunch of little white flowers were poked into the crown it made. She was probably a couple years younger than me, and I’d more than loved it when I found out she was the actual owner of the flower shop rather than just working there.
The first time she’d seen me pass by, she’d chased me down, following me halfway up my steps in an erratic bid to introduce herself. You could say she’d made quite the impression.
