The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “You sure? You don’t look like you’re fine.” He stepped closer. “You look white as a ghost. Like you might faint any second. Do you have a bottle of water somewhere? Should I run to the cafe down the street and get you something? Is it a low blood sugar thing?”

  I shook my head and pulled in another measured breath. “I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” I forced a smile on my face that I hoped helped to soften my words.

  “You’re sure? I don’t mind getting you something from down the street,” he pressed, making it clear my smile hadn’t been convincing enough.

  His eyes remained on me, causing my anxiety to build. My cheeks heated, and I tucked a few strands of my red hair behind my ears. I shifted my gaze to the flowers in front of me. They were a vibrant yellow that reminded me of the sun. Thinking of the sun made me think of fresh air and the noises bugs made in the summer, which then had me thinking about other things one might see in nature on any given day. While I might not be able to step outside and submerge myself in nature right now, I could at least gaze at these flowers and think about being outdoors.

  Like always, the visualization worked like a charm. My breathing mellowed, and the sense of dizziness dissipated.

  I shifted to glance at the guy. Now that he was close I could see his eyes were a shade of blue that reminded me of the ocean.

  “I’m good. Promise,” I said, still holding his gaze. The longer I stared at him, the more his concern for me dissolved.

  I grabbed for a few more flowers and got back to work. When he didn’t move away from the counter I asked, “Did you decide on something?”

  “Uh, well, I know I need a bouquet. One that says…uh.”

  I understood then why he was so nervous. It had nothing to do with me. He’d done something wrong and was trying to choose the right flowers to make up for it to someone.

  “You’re sorry?” I guessed even though I was fairly certain that was the case.

  His cheeks flushed with color and a smirk twisted his lips. “Am I that transparent?”

  “No.” I placed another flower in the pumpkin vase. “It was a lucky guess.”

  This happened to me often, but I attributed it to knowing this shop was my baby—from before the incident and after—I could feel it in my bones. I was meant to be around flowers and plants. It was almost as though they called to me.

  I stepped from behind the counter and walked to a refrigerated section displaying the pre-made bouquets and centerpieces I’d created earlier in the week. My gaze skimmed them before I glanced over my shoulder to take a good look at the guy. I’d noticed he was dressed nice before, but now I was also aware of an air of sophistication and professionalism about him. He seemed young, but there were wrinkles between his eyes from thinking too deeply or stress. My gaze dipped to his left hand next. A shiny platinum ring stared back at me.

  “Are these for your wife? Did you forget something? An anniversary maybe?” I asked. I turned my attention back to the display case again. Sunflowers were too cheerful. A Halloween bouquet was out of the question for the situation. What he needed was something romantic.

  “Again, how did you know?” he asked.

  I opened the display case and reached inside for a beautiful arrangement of romantic fall flowers in various shades of red. Some lily of the valley had been tossed in to break it up, complimenting everything nicely. It would be a great way for someone to say they were sorry.

  “Another lucky guess,” I said. I held the bouquet out to him. “What do you think of this? Will it work?”

  A smirk twisted his lips. “I think it says I’m sorry I allowed myself to get wrapped up in work and ruin our anniversary for you perfectly. Thanks.”

  “Great.” I nodded and made my way to the register. “Will this be all, or do you think you might need a card? Maybe some chocolates?”

  “A card would be nice, but my wife has a hard time deciphering my chicken scratch.” He laughed.

  “I could write it, for a small fee,” I said. “Here, let me show you my list of fonts.” I reached beneath the counter and grabbed the laminated paper I’d made a couple months ago when I felt confident enough with my calligraphy skills.

  My roommate, Brielle, thought I was nuts to take a calligraphy class but over the last couple of months, I found the skill to be handy. People enjoyed sending cards with their flowers. They also enjoyed not having to worry about legible handwriting. They could choose the color of ink, the words they wanted, and the font all for a small fee.

  I thought it was a genius idea.

  “Fonts? Do you have a machine that prints cards? Because that would be great,” he said.

  “Actually, I hand-write them myself. Here are the different calligraphy styles I’ve learned.” I passed him the laminated paper listing the five styles. “You get your choice of font style and color of ink. I have three sizes of cards to choose from as well, in case you want to leave a longer message.”

  He took the paper and skimmed it over. “This is fantastic. I’ll go with option three and black ink.”

  “Great. What size card did you want? Small, medium, or large?” I pointed to the three on display behind me.

  “Medium. I think she might appreciate a longer apology.”

  “Okay, and what would you like it to say?” I grabbed a pen and pad of paper, ready to jot down his message.

  “How about something like, thanks for putting up with me for another year. I truly am grateful for everything you do. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you,” he said. Warmth flooded me at his words. They were sweet and genuine. It was clear he cared for his wife and was sorry for his actions. “End it with: I will love you for the rest of ever.”

  My pen hovered above the paper as his last words settled over me. They were beautiful. Magical sounding.

  For the rest of ever.

  “Did you catch that last part?” he asked.

  “Yeah, got it. It’s beautiful,” I said. “Is it a line from a movie or something?”

  He placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocked on his heels. “Nope. I’m afraid it’s all mine. It was something I said once to my wife. Actually, when I proposed to her. I told her I wanted to be with her for the rest of ever. The words are engraved on the inside of our wedding rings.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I said. When would I find someone to say such sweet things to me? I jotted down his words. “Give me a few minutes to prepare the card.”

  “Sure.”

  I pulled a medium-sized card from the drawer behind me and stepped away so I could focus on writing out his message.

  As I rummaged around for my black fountain pen I found a picture I’d drawn of the black orchids. They were the biggest mystery from that day, considering no one else had seen them besides me. My doctors said they may have been a trick of my brain. Apparently, it was possible my brain had chosen a rare flower to fill one of my voids from that day. While I wasn’t positive I believed them, I did know the brain was something to marvel at but also fear. It could make a person happier and healthier with a single thought. It could also make a person’s lungs freeze from fear.

  The brain was like a mafia boss inside our bodies, calling all the shots.

  Today it seemed mine was intent on reminding me of that horrible day two years ago when everything changed.

  Chapter Two

  Once the guy paid and left, I gathered my things and raced to the door before anyone else could enter. It was barely three in the afternoon, but I’d already had enough for one day. All I wanted was to go home, change into comfy clothes, curl up on the couch with a glass of wine, and binge-watch the newly added season of iZombie. Brielle wouldn’t be home yet, which meant I’d have the apartment and TV to myself. Unless Lola, Brielle’s hyperactive husky, counted.

  I locked up my shop and spun around to hightail it home but instead, smacked into someone. A cardboard box clattered to the ground as the man who’d been holding it lost his grip from the force of our impact.r />
  “I’m so sorry!” Heat crept up my neck, making its way to my face, as I reached out to help him gather the box up again.

  I really needed to get home. If this wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was.

  “It’s okay,” he chuckled in a rich timbre that had my body trembling in response to it. “Really.”

  My gaze skimmed over him, taking in his broad shoulders, sandy blond hair, and mouth that begged to be kissed. Who was he? And why did I want to jump him so badly?

  I’d never reacted this way to a guy. At least not that I could remember.

  I forced myself to stand when he did, taking in the finer details of his chiseled face. A day’s worth of stubble along his jaw caught my eye as well as a faint scar above his upper lip.

  “Are you closed?” He asked.

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  He nodded to the unlit sign in the window over my shoulder.

  “Oh.” The connection between my brain and mouth seemed to have short-circuited. I couldn’t give him more than one word at a time.

  A crooked smirk twisted at his lips. His eyes locked with mine. They were brown. A deep, chocolate brown I found myself drowning in.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled. “I guess I should’ve come by earlier.”

  He maneuvered the box around in his arms. The movement made his muscles flex, drawing my attention to them beneath his cotton, long-sleeved shirt. I licked my lips as a fluttery sensation shifted through my lower stomach.

  “Can I at least drop these off to you since I’m already here? Maybe you can show them to the owner tomorrow for me so I didn’t come here for nothing?” He leaned in, flashing me a charming smile. The breath in my chest stilled. God, he was hot. “Does that work?”

  I nodded without speaking. My vocal cords still didn’t seem to be working right. I scolded myself mentally for allowing this random guy to have such an effect on me. I needed to get my crap together and stop being weird.

  My mouth opened, but before I could speak, he started talking again.

  “I swear I looked this place up online, and it said you were open until seven tonight.” His gaze drifted past me to the schedule of hours posted in the window.

  “I am,” I said. Why did my voice sound so breathy? I coughed in my hand to clear my throat. “I mean, I usually am. Me. I’m the owner. I just have something to do this afternoon. An appointment. So, I decided to close early today.”

  Could he tell I was lying? It wasn’t something I’d ever been good at.

  “Oh, okay. So, can I leave these for you to look at some other time then?”

  My chest ballooned with heat as his beautiful brown eyes settled on me again.

  “What are they?” I managed to ask.

  I lifted onto the tips of my toes but couldn’t see much of anything inside the box besides wood.

  “Bamboo vases. Handcrafted. Lightweight. Made of a sustainable, renewable resource,” he said.

  My brows lifted. He was into saving the planet and handsome. Nice.

  “Did you make them yourself?” I reached into the box and pulled one out.

  “I did,” he said. I could feel his eyes on me. Their intensity made me nervous. “They’re a unique design of my own. I was hoping we might be able to partner. These are only a few designs. If you need to see more, I’ve got loads at home. Different sizes, stains, shapes.”

  I moved my thumb across the smooth surface of the vase in my hand and soaked in his craftsmanship.

  “Wow, these are really good.” I glanced up at him with more words of praise on my tongue, but when I locked eyes with him, my words disappeared.

  He was staring at me with a slack-jawed expression I found unsettling.

  Did I have something on my face? Had I said something awful without realizing it?

  “Uh, thanks.” He cleared his throat, blinked, and nodded to the box again. Whatever I’d witnessed seconds before in his expression vanished. “There are a few more in here if you care to look at them.”

  I reached for another, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the moment we seemed to be presented with. What was his deal?

  “I can’t believe you made these by hand,” I said. “They’re beautiful. The curves. The lines. The smoothness of the wood. The lightweight feel. Incredible.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you like them.”

  His eyes were on me again. I could feel them. When I glanced at him, I spotted recognition flickering through his brown eyes. Did he know me? He seemed to. The way he was staring at me made it seem as though I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. My stomach somersaulted, and I tucked my hair behind my ear as I dipped my gaze back to the vase I held.

  “So.” He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “Does this mean we have a partnership? I can sell them to you for a bit more than cost so I make some profit, and then you can charge whatever you like after.”

  My heart picked up its pace. I’d never partnered with anyone before. At least not with someone for handmade materials. It was a big step. A risky one. However, the vases were unique. Definitely something that had the potential to help take my shop to the next level, which was something I’d been striving to do all year. This place was the only thing I remembered in its entirety from before my incident. It was my everything then, and it was my everything now. A love for flowers and plants—nature—was deeply rooted in me.

  Of that I was certain.

  “I’d say we do.” I flashed him a smile. He returned it with one of his own, sending butterflies flapping to life inside my stomach at the sight.

  “Well, should we step inside and make it official?” He asked. “Or exchange information?”

  “Oh, uh. Yeah,” I muttered. “We should.”

  I fumbled in my purse for my keys and unlocked the shop door. The sweet, familiar scent of flowers floated to my nose, causing a slow smile to spread across my face.

  This place was where I was in my element.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Hottie to make sure he was following me inside and noticed he seemed to be in his element too. His features had softened since he walked through the door, and he appeared to be breathing deeper. Being surrounded by plants and flowers was where he was most at home too.

  I liked this about him.

  “You can set your box over there,” I said. I made my way to the counter. “As for the partnership, is it okay if I jot down your contact info for now? I’d like time to draw up a contract.” I was proud of myself for thinking of the business side of things while in such close proximity to him.

  He set the box on the counter, brushing my arm with his in the process, and a heady feeling catapulted through me. It centered itself in my lower stomach. My libido must be starved because with one touch from him, my knees were weak.

  “Absolutely.” His voice seemed strangled when he spoke. Had he felt the same thing I had just then? “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me and for checking out my vases.”

  “No problem.” I grabbed a pen and my pad of paper. “What was your name?” Had he said it before? I didn’t think so, but the sensation that it rested on the tip of my tongue still plagued me.

  “Ren. Ren Jacobs.”

  “Ren,” I repeated, liking the way it sounded falling from my lips more than I should. “What’s the best number to reach you at?”

  “What’s yours?”

  Confusion shifted through me. Was he asking for my number? That was bold. Nice, but bold.

  “Your name, I mean,” he said in a rush. A nervous chuckle followed, and I smiled. It was nice knowing I wasn’t the only one flustered. “I wasn’t trying to get your number. Not that I don’t want it; it’s just that would be way too forward of me.”

  The butterflies flapping in my stomach quickened their pace. Had he just admitted to wanting my number?

  “Ivy,” I said. “My name is Ivy.”

  It seemed silly giving him my name, but it shouldn’t. After all it wasn’t a
s though the name of my shop gave any indication to it. Everbloom Florist may not have had my name in it, but I knew deep down it meant something. I had no idea what, though.

  “Nice to meet you, Ivy,” he said. My mouth grew dry at the way his lips curled over the letters of my name. When he rattled off his number, I struggled to jot it down. “Call whenever you like. I can’t wait to hash out the details of this with you and see my vases on a shelf or two in here. You have a beautiful shop, by the way. I can tell plants and flowers are your passion.”

  “Thanks. They are.”

  “I picked up on that from your social media accounts but it really shines through when you step inside this place in person.” He scratched his brow. Was he embarrassed by his words? I thought it was adorable he’d checked my shop out online. “Not that I was stalking you online or anything.”

  The corners of my lips twisted into a smirk. I always found it funny when people said that because it was such a lie. Everyone stalked people online. When you wanted to know something about someone, all you had to do was turn to their social media accounts. Nine times out of ten, you could learn everything about them you desired, right down to their favorite food.

  “Good to know.” The words fell from my mouth sounding flirty. I scolded myself mentally, but when I glanced at him again, I cut myself some slack.

  After all, who could blame me? He was gorgeous.

  “When should I expect to hear from you?” he asked.

  My mind blanked. When would he hear from me? Tonight? No, definitely not. Tomorrow? Nope. I wouldn’t have time. I still needed to finish the centerpieces for the party at town hall and get them to Janice.

  “I’ll, uh, catch up with you soon,” I said. “Sometime later this week for sure.”

  For sure? I cringed at my word choice. It didn’t make me sound professional. It made me sound like a valley chick from a nineties movie.

  Ren extended a hand to me at the same time as a wide smile stretched across his face, igniting the twin dimples I hadn’t noticed he had until now.

  “Great. I look forward to it,” he said.