Don't Touch My Petunia

by Tara Sheets

  Juliette screamed.

  “My, what big lungs you have.” Logan loomed in front of her, looking every bit like the big bad wolf.

  She scowled. “You’re in my way. Move.”

  “I’m doing my job.” His gaze flicked to her wet T-shirt. “As a volunteer Wolf, I need to give you a hard time.”

  Juliette rolled her eyes. Beyond Logan’s shoulder, she caught sight of Brock sneaking along the side of the forest to bypass the line of Wolves. If she didn’t move fast, she was going to lose.

  “You have to let me go,” she said urgently. “Otherwise Brock’s going to win.”

  Logan seemed to consider her logic for a moment. “That’s a very strong argument. You can go.”

  She started to forge ahead.

  He blocked her with his body. “For a price.” He was giving her that secret look. The one that did things to her insides. Warm, sexy things. But Brock was getting away. Then again, Logan’s perfect mouth looked very inviting. She didn’t have time for this.

  “Fine.” She lifted up on her toes and stamped a kiss on his mouth. It was supposed to be a quick one, but somehow she got caught up in the feel of his hard body, and the warmth of his large hands, and the slow, sweet slide of his tongue.

  When she finally pulled away, she was breathing harder than before.

  “Thank you,” Logan murmured. “But that’s not the price.”

  Juliette groaned in frustration and hopped up and down. “What do you want?”

  His gaze lowered to her chest, mesmerized.

  She bounced one more time, just because.

  “Come to dinner tonight,” he said huskily. “My house.”

  Brock was now making his way toward the end of the trail that led to the finish line. She had to go, or Hollywood Boozeboat was going to win.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine as in ‘fine you’ll come for dinner’?”

  “Yes,” she said in exasperation. “Fine means yes. Can I go now?”

  Logan stepped aside. “Fine.”

  Juliette shot toward the finish line, ahead of the pack.

  Later, her friends would shout about her amazing luck at winning the race. The surprised look on Brock’s face would go down in history as one of Juliette’s favorite moments of victory. And the day would end in triumph and dozens of free donuts for Team Mermaid. But the best part of that day had nothing to do with winning the race or beating an arrogant celebrity or giving her friends bragging rights.

  The best part of the day, whether she wanted to admit it or not, was being accosted in the woods by a very big, very bad wolf.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Hey, boss man. I finished the last coat of paint on those chairs,” Kevin called from the garage.

  Logan eyed the recipe book on his kitchen counter, making sure he’d measured everything exactly right. “That’s great, Kevin. And please call me Logan.” The kid was a quick study, taking directions and running with projects. The only thing he couldn’t seem to remember was to stop calling him “boss man.”

  Logan checked the timer, opened the oven, and pulled out his latest project. The delicious scent of the spicy vegetarian stuffed peppers surprised him. Maybe it was all the melted Monterey Jack cheese. With enough cheese, anything was edible.

  Someone knocked on the sliding glass door, and he glanced up to see Juliette out on the patio. Logan thought nothing could’ve looked hotter than the wet shirt she had on at the mud run, but he was wrong. In denim shorts and a simple white tank top, she looked sexy as sin, and she probably didn’t even know it.

  He slid the door open with one hand, holding the stuffed pepper dish in the other. “You’re just in time.”

  “Wow, that looks good.” She stepped inside and choked back laughter. “What happened in here?”

  The kitchen looked like hell; he knew it. “Don’t worry, we’re not having dinner in here. Kevin and I have been ripping out the wallpaper, and we’re still in the middle of it.”

  “Who’s Kevin?”

  “He’s my assistant.”

  She leaned over to smell the stuffed peppers. “Mmm.”

  Logan’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. Erotic images flashed through his head when she leaned in close like that. He wanted to toss the dish aside, throw her over his shoulder, and drag her upstairs to his bed. Dinner be damned. He wanted to devour her.

  “Hey, boss,” Kevin called as he came in through the garage. “I think I’m going to head out and—oh.” He stopped in the kitchen doorway, looking at Juliette like he’d just discovered a great white shark in his swimming pool.

  Juliette seemed almost as shocked as he did. She looked at Logan, incredulous. “Kevin’s your assistant? Kevin Kevin?”

  “He’s been a great help,” Logan said smoothly. “I understand he used to work at the florist shop.”

  She gave Kevin a calculating look. “He did. But we had a little disagreement.”

  Kevin started to squirm. Logan didn’t blame him. Juliette looked like Wonder Woman about to whip out her lasso of truth.

  “How’s it going, Kevin?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” Kevin mumbled. He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I’m not doing that stuff anymore. The pot plant stuff.”

  “Really?” Juliette put her hands on her hips. “Since when?”

  Poor Kevin was pink around the ears, but Logan had to give him credit for sticking it out. “I just quit that same week, after you fired me. My friend who was into growing, and all that? He moved to Seattle, and I don’t know . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I just didn’t like it anymore. Kinda made me feel like I was spinning my wheels, not getting anywhere.”

  Juliette’s expression softened, and she gave Kevin a brilliant smile that, in Logan’s opinion, carried a far more powerful punch than anything Wonder Woman could dish out. “You’re obviously doing great work here, so I’m glad Logan has you to help.”

  Kevin blinked a few times, then shuffled back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, this is a great gig. My mom’s relieved. I’m saving up for a car so I don’t have to keep using hers.”

  Logan gathered up the dinner supplies while Juliette and Kevin talked. They chatted about Kevin’s plans for junior college, a girl he was dating, and something about soap. Logan only half listened, distracted by Juliette’s melodious voice and her warm presence in his kitchen. There was something so domestic about it, and it made him want to cook dinner for her every night, just to keep her close.

  After Kevin said good-bye, Logan led Juliette to a small table on the front porch, where he placed glasses, plates, and the stuffed pepper dish.

  “I hope you don’t mind eating outside. The living room and kitchen are torn apart right now.”

  “I noticed,” Juliette said with a laugh. “You guys are making progress, though. What’s your plan for the rest of the house?”

  “The upstairs looks pretty good already.” He set out utensils and napkins, then poured wine and offered her a glass. “I fixed up the master bedroom and the floors. It’s the downstairs that looks like a nightmare. Once I’m done with that, I might start on the yard.”

  Juliette sipped her wine and leaned back in her chair, eyeing the stuffed peppers. “You made a vegetarian dish?”

  “It’s my first attempt at rabbit food,” he said. “Go easy on me.”

  Juliette gave him a sassy look that made him think about clearing the table with one arm and throwing her on top of it so he could—Jesus, he needed to pull it together. Ever since they had sex in that treehouse, he felt like his body was fine tuned to hers. Whenever he saw her, whenever she got close, he wanted her. He’d wanted her before that, but now that he knew in detail what it was like, it was hard not to think of anything else.

  He placed peppers on their plates and forced himself to think of normal, polite topics. “Have you had this before?”

  She nodded. “My mom was a vegetarian, too. She used to make it.” She took a bite, closed her eyes, and c
hewed.

  Logan watched her like he was an addict and she was his drug of choice. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth, and her soft moan made the blood rush from his head to lower, more demanding parts of his body.

  “It’s delicious,” she said, her tongue darting out to lick a drop of sauce from her bottom lip.

  Logan shifted in his chair. He fought to hang on to their thread of conversation. “Probably not as good as your mom used to make.”

  A flash of sadness crossed her face, and he could’ve kicked himself. Why’d he have to bring up her mother? He knew her mom had died in a car accident when Juliette was little. He vaguely remembered hearing about it when he was in middle school.

  “I actually don’t remember,” Juliette said. “My mom was a really good cook, but it’s been so long. And my dad didn’t . . .” She set down her fork and picked up her wineglass. “My dad wasn’t much good at anything, after my mom died.”

  “What happened?” Logan asked. He’d already shot the conversation to hell; he might as well go all the way.

  She took a sip of wine, and for a moment Logan wondered if she was going to ignore the question or brush him off.

  “I was in fourth grade,” she finally said. “They sent me home early from school. My mom was driving to the grocery store and a semitruck blew through a traffic light. They said she died instantly.” Juliette shrugged, as though trying to minimize the pain of it, but Logan could tell she was sinking into memories she rarely talked about. A tiny crease formed between her brows, and she rubbed a finger back and forth over a scratch on the tabletop. “Anyway, my dad sent me to my grandmother’s place that day. It was supposed to be for a few days, but I didn’t actually go back home for over a month. My grandmother tried to keep me with her and Emma, but I wanted to go home. I missed my mom, and I missed him. My dad and I were still a family. At least, that’s what I thought.”

  Logan reached out and took her hand. “You were a family.”

  She seemed startled at the contact. “We were. He never got over my mom’s death. For a long time he was angry at the Holloways. I think he might have even been angry at me. My mom was a healer. That was her gift. My dad was mad that she couldn’t heal herself, but the Holloway gifts don’t work like that. We can only help other people. After a while he stopped being angry, and then he got sad. And then, I think he just stopped feeling anything at all. He was never the same.”

  She drew her hand away and ran it through her hair. “When I turned eighteen, he took a job in California and moved away. He said I could go with him, but we both knew my home was here. And I had Emma and our grandmother, so I never even considered it. . . .” She trailed off and looked at him with false optimism. “Now we rarely see each other, but I think he’s happier. I think this place reminded him too much of my mother.” A flash of pain ghosted across her face. “I know I reminded him too much of her.”

  Logan wanted to hold her. The idea of Juliette as a little girl, sad and neglected, made him wish he could turn back time and change things. He wished he’d paid more attention to her. He could’ve been a better friend.

  “I wish I could’ve helped you,” he said.

  She seemed surprised. “I think you might’ve been a little busy . . . oh, I don’t know, growing up? Being a kid yourself?” She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, but that was a long time ago and I’m totally fine now.” She spread her hands out. “Look how fine I turned out.”

  “You are fine.” He knew she was joking, but he wasn’t. She had turned out beautiful and kind and fascinating and caring. She had turned out perfect.

  “Wow, it’s late.” Juliette suddenly pushed away from the table. “I should be getting home.”

  Disappointment gripped him. “You barely started your dinner.”

  “It was really good,” she assured him. “Really. It’s just that I actually ate a bunch of donuts after the mud run. I’m not that hungry. I just remembered I have some things to do.”

  Logan rose from his chair. “Let me walk you home.”

  “No,” she said too quickly. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for dinner. You’re great at cooking rabbit food.”

  She made her apologies, and Logan couldn’t do anything except watch her go.

  With a curse, he shoved away from the table, grabbed the dish he’d so carefully prepared, and stalked into the kitchen.

  He was a world-class idiot. He shouldn’t have brought up her family. Of all the asinine things to do, that was near the top of his list. It was clear she didn’t like talking about her past, and now the dinner he’d so carefully planned was over before it even began. He stared out the kitchen window into the woods.

  “Juliette Holloway,” he murmured. “What am I going to do about you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Soft moonlight spilled in through Juliette’s bedroom window, lending a silvery, dreamlike quality to the cozy room.

  Juliette ran her fingers over the faded stitching in the corner of the patchwork quilt where her mother had embroidered her name, with a tiny flower to dot the letter i. The blanket was almost as old as she was. Fraying around the seams, the colorful squares were faded from years of washing. But of all the things in her house, Juliette treasured it the most. She and her mom had spent countless hours snuggled in it as they read stories of pirate kings and fairy princesses and fantasy worlds shrouded in mist. Sometimes, her dad would join them, his deep baritone voice adding a dramatic note to the story villains. Juliette used to giggle and snuggle deeper into the quilt as he made growling monster noises.

  She rubbed a corner of the quilt over her lips, remembering those moments of complete happiness. They had been a family back then. Whole and happy and invincible. It was like a dream. Juliette knew now that that kind of dream was just a fairy tale, like the stories her parents used to read to her. Things like that didn’t last. She couldn’t count on them. If she did, she’d just end up getting her heart broken. Still, even though she knew better, she cherished the memory of those times when she’d had it.

  It was hard for her to believe she’d told Logan the story of her past. Sitting across from him on his porch at dinner had felt like the most natural thing in the world. She’d somehow slipped into an alternate universe where she didn’t have to guard herself. Once she realized what she’d done—how easy it was to trust him—it scared her. He’d gone through all that trouble of cooking her dinner, and she’d run off like a coward.

  She shifted restlessly and swung her legs over the side of her bed. No use trying to sleep when the moon was calling.

  Luna meowed and jumped onto the windowsill.

  “I know,” Juliette said, scratching the cat between the ears. “It’s too nice a night to spend sleeping. Let’s go out.”

  With midnight approaching, Juliette decided to try one of the special potions to mix up for Logan’s tree. Even though it was too far gone to save, she had to try. The look on his face when he’d asked her to heal it was painful, even in memory. She knew what it felt like to want to save something from your past.

  In the garden underneath a spill of roses one summer, she’d planted aloe. It wasn’t supposed to grow in this type of soil and the climate was all wrong, but like the rest of the plants in her garden, it grew anyway.

  Under the stars, she broke off a small tip from the aloe plant and added it to a wooden bowl filled with healing herbs. To that, she added rainwater from a ceramic pitcher, calendula petals, and milk thistle. Then she closed her eyes and thought of the tree, of Logan’s hope, and of his grandfather’s kind intentions. When she opened her eyes, she whispered words of healing into the wind. Moonlight flooded the garden and the breeze kicked up around her in a swirling caress, kissing her eyelids and stirring the hair at the nape of her neck. A few moments later, the healing potion was ready. Of that, Juliette was certain. But the real question was whether or not it would make an impact on the dying tree.

  Barefoot, she walked back to her house and poured the
potion into an amber glass vial. It was best to use it soon, while the moon still shone bright in the sky. If it was going to work on the tree, now was the time. Without waiting to change out of her nightgown, Juliette drew on a cardigan sweater and stepped into a pair of rubber boots. Then she set off through the woods to Logan’s house.

  Luna followed at her heels, the cat darting like a shadow in and around the undergrowth.

  “Can you please walk a straight line?” Juliette asked. “You’re going to trip me up and it’s hard enough to see, as it is.” She hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, but then, she rarely did when the moon was so bright. Juliette knew the woods better than she knew the streets in her town. And since the trees and branches always flowed in a soft rhythm around her, she never had much trouble navigating.

  A short while later, she stepped onto Logan’s lawn. The old maple tree seemed shabby in the moonlight, and Juliette was overcome with sadness. Even in the dark she could sense its weakness. She walked around the tree in a circle, sprinkling drops of the potion onto the soil as she sent her intentions into the earth and roots.

  When she was finished, she placed the vial into the pocket of her cardigan and lay her hands on the tree. Closing her eyes, she touched her forehead to the gnarled trunk. Why did good things have to die? Why couldn’t they last forever, like they did in fairy tales?

  “Juliette.” Logan’s deep voice settled over her like a warm blanket.

  She turned around slowly.

  He was fully dressed in jeans, a flannel, and work boots. An odd choice for the middle of the night, but then, who was she to judge? Most normal people didn’t run around the woods in their nightgowns.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked.

  “I could ask the same of you.” He moved closer, coming to stand just in front of her.

  He was close enough to touch. She wanted to reach out and lay her hands on his chest, feel the steady thump of his heart. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the tree trunk. “I never sleep well when the moon is full. It’s the best time to make potions, so I thought I’d try one out for the tree.”