Damn right she has.
I knock on the door and take a step back. My gaze drops to the ground, and I notice a bouquet of flowers—black roses—wrapped in black tissue paper. Who the fuck is sending her flowers? Bending, I snatch up the flowers just as the door swings open.
Jesus.
My little boho chic beauty has transformed herself into a sexy little minx. The long black gown fits snug to her petite frame and the slight curve of her hips with a slit running up the front, exposing her tanned, toned leg and thigh. It’s strapless, showing off her slender arms and ample cleavage. Her honey-blonde hair is now a soft shade of lavender and hangs loosely around her shoulders and down her back, and her full lips are painted a nude color.
“You changed your hair.”
“Yeah. I spent the afternoon at the salon.” She fingers the ends. “I thought this would be fun. Do you like it?”
Stepping just inside her door, I curl an arm around her waist and tug her to me. “You look beautiful.”
She drapes her arms over my shoulders. “And you look hot.”
Dipping my head, I press a kiss to her neck just below her ear instead of her lips so as not to mess up her lipstick. “You ready?”
“Let me just grab my purse and our masks.” She pulls from my arms and points. “Are those for me?”
I look down at the forgotten flowers in my hand. “Oh, yeah.” I extend my hand, and she happily takes them.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “I’ve never seen black roses before.” She dips her nose between them and inhales. “Where’d you find these?” she asks as she heads to the kitchen.
Clearing my throat, I stuff my hands in my pockets and move to stand on the opposite side of the bar separating the main room from the kitchen. My gaze falls on the box she’d pulled from her desk drawer earlier, the one containing the masks. “Actually, I found them in front of your door.”
She stills, her back straightens, and she turns around to face me, pale faced and wide-eyed. “What?” she breathes. Her body sags against the sink.
My brows pinch in confusion. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she answers quickly. Too quickly.
“Do you have any idea who would leave them for you? Maybe one of your customers?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, looking lost in thought.
She’s keeping something from me.
Hazel blinks, then suddenly pushes herself from the counter and opens the cabinet under her sink. She grabs the flowers and shoves them into the trash can. Turning back to face me, she waves her hand dismissively. “It’s probably just some kids playing a Halloween prank.”
I don’t bother to tell her that there are street cameras all over Heritage Bay, and the only ones who have access to the footage are Jason and the Heritage Bay Police Department. The residents pay a pretty penny for topnotch security, and my uncle delivers. I make a mental note to call him in the morning, but for now, I’m taking my girl on our date.
I look down at my watch. “We should get going.”
“The masks,” she says as she makes her way around the bar. Lifting the lid from the box, she reaches in and pulls one out, passing it to me. “Put it on. I want to see how it looks.”
I do as she asks, slipping the mask over my head. Her eyes shimmer with approval. “Oh, we are definitely going to have fun with these.”
Hazel
* * *
Clara was right. She’s here. I don’t know how she found me, but I wonder if he’s here, too.
No. He apologized.
I can’t believe I just lied to Levi’s face like that, and judging by his blank expression, he knows it. Ugh. Of course I’m going to tell him the truth, just not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe.
Tonight is our night, and I’m not gonna let that crazy bitch ruin it.
Clara’s words echo in my mind: he’ll protect you.
Which reminds me…
I’d debated whether or not to wear the Love Spell tonight. I’d spent the past year fantasizing about what it would be like to be with Levi, but what if he isn’t the one?
In the end, curiosity won. I dabbed a little on my wrists and neck, just below my ear where Levi likes to bury his face.
The city outside blurs by as we make our way to the hotel. I turn my head to Levi to see him staring out the window. He hasn’t said a word since we got into the car.
“Hey.” I place my hand on his thigh, and he looks over at me. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”
He scowls. “I never pegged you for a liar, Hazel.”
Pinching my lips together, I exhale a puff of air through my nose. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know for sure who sent the flowers, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a girl from my past. It’s a long story, and I didn’t want to get into it tonight. I promise to tell you everything later. Tonight I just want to be with you.” I give his thigh a gentle squeeze.
He turns in his seat to face me. “You could’ve just told me that in the first place.”
My body sags against the seat. “You’re right. I should have, and I’m sorry.”
He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Whatever is going on, I’ve got your back.”
I turn my head, and he presses a chaste kiss to my lips. Another to my cheek, neck, and to his favorite spot just below my ear. “You smell so fucking good.”
I can’t contain the grin stretching across my face as a million butterflies take flight inside me. Thank you, Clara.
8
Levi
* * *
The Heritage Hotel is one of the oldest buildings in downtown Heritage. The back of the hotel is adjacent to the university and the park, where mostly college students hang out playing catch or Frisbee or just to study. The hotel itself closed over fifteen years ago, and the building is now used for charity functions, weddings, and college socials.
A short line forms on the steps as two men dressed in tuxedos stand at the entrance, scanning the invitations. After mine is scanned, Hazel and I slip on our masks and step inside. The lobby is flooded with people sipping from champagne flutes. A large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the space as waiters worm their way through the crowd, balancing trays of hors d’oeuvres above their heads.
Wrapping my arm around Hazel’s waist, I lean in and speak close to her ear. “Let’s find the bar.”
Leaning with my back against the bar, drink in hand, I watch the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Multicolored lights flash to the beat of Billie Eilish’s “You Should See Me in a Crown.” We’ve been here for all of thirty minutes, and already I’ve seen more tits and ass than a strip club. I’m not complaining.
My attention moves to Hazel standing less than a foot away, champagne flute in hand, smiling as Troy’s wife, Mirabel, shows off pictures of their kids—or, as Troy refers to them, “the lil’ Ts.”
They were already waiting at the bar when we arrived. Whereas Troy is a man of few words, Mirabel is very chatty. She and Troy are high school sweethearts who married right out of school before Troy left for boot camp. She and Hazel hit it off immediately and have been chatting like old friends since the moment we got here.