Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
LEAF
The bodysuit I wore to prove a point is riding up my ass cheeks as we walk around the nursery, looking for the vegetables that I need to replace.
I keep having to pull it out of my crack. Echo obviously notices and bites back his laughs. I’m glad he holds them in, or I’d have to hit him over the head. With a shovel this time. And he’ll probably call the cops, and I’ll go to jail for assault.
He’s currently pushing a cart as I put different plants inside, ones that I hope have a chance of survival against Michael. When we get to the garden fencing, I grab an entire roll of galvanized steel.
Hopefully, Michael’s horrible little teeth can’t chew through this.
“Alright, I’m ready to head home.”
“Got everything you need?”
“Yes, all but the TNT you never gave me.” He lets out a small laugh, and I glower at him. “That would have really solved all my problems.”
“I think you have a lot more problems than TNT could solve.”
“Fuck off,” I murmur, feeling my eyes roll. “TNT would solve everything.”
He rolls the cart up to the guy at the checkout counter, and I feel the worker’s eyes take me in.
“Love the outfit,” he says, and I grin widely, my hand sweeping down my chest.
“Thank you. It’s his favorite.” I elbow Echo, and he blushes but says nothing as I lean forward and add, “Loves my curves in it.”
The checkout guy smiles as he starts scanning my items, and when we roll the cart out of the nursery, I give my ass a nice little bounce in his direction.
“He was flirting with you,” Echo says, and I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Well, I feel very sorry for him. He has terrible taste in men.”
Echo nudges me, and I glance up at him. “I think his taste is alright.”
That makes my chest swell slightly. I haven’t been flirted with in a while, so the guy at the checkout counter, coupled with Echo, is making my ego inflate. Pretty soon, if I’m not careful, I may float away completely.
I trip slightly and fall into the cart, which knocks me back to reality.
“Shit, you’re clumsy, aren’t you?”
“I’m mostly ungainly and awkward,” I reply, rubbing my side. “But it is what it is. Nothing I can do to change me now.”
I pop the trunk of my car, and we work on putting everything inside. It’s a tight fit, but we manage. The drive home is uneventful. I’m profoundly aware of Echo next to me—of his silence. Part of me wants to break it, but I don’t know what the hell I’d say.
Thanks for the hot-as-fuck hand job? Glad I could give you spank bank material for the next few days?
I’m entirely unused to this. Since my last relationship fell apart, I’ve had zero luck.
I did not anticipate finding a random hookup from a request to buy TNT from the most illegal parts of the internet.
Also, something is niggling at me. The way he followed me home. The way he snuck into my house and almost got himself bludgeoned to death. Instead of running off screaming, he gave me an orgasm.
That’s not normal…is it?
I’m so far removed from reality that I can’t even tell anymore. Shit.
Pulling into the driveway, I’m half-panicked because what if he’s some serial killer stalker that has easy access to me because I have no sense of self-preservation? What if something about the fact that I’m literally losing my mind is his fetish, and he’s ready to get all kinky with me?
“You okay?” he asks, gently tapping my arm.
I turn the engine off and open my door, twisting to face him. ‘Fine,’ I answer in sign, then step out, and he follows. I pause after I pop the back and then turn to face him again so he can see my lips. “You want to come in for a drink? It’s the least I can do for helping me.”
“What do you have?” he asks as he places two plants under his arms. They’re very nice arms, big and muscular. I want him to wrap them around me again and jerk me off. And then not kill me after.
My cock twitches between my legs, and I regret wearing the bodysuit even more.
“I have a lot to choose from. My aunt left a lot of booze here, and I’ve added to it. I’m quite the entrepreneur when it comes to this kind of thing. Did you know I interpreted a mixology class once? Fascinating stuff.”
Echo glances at me, walking to the back patio. “It’s ten in the morning.”
“Who gives a shit? It’s the weekend. If we can’t enjoy ourselves, then what’s the fucking point.”
He hesitates for a moment, like he’s working something out in his head, and then he turns around and smiles at me. “Alright then. Surprise me.”
I clap my hands and then get to work while he brings the rest of the items to the backyard.
I grab my shaker and rummage around in the cabinet for some alcohol. Hm, whiskey. I think I remember one in that class I interpreted where they mixed it with pickle juice.
I pull open the fridge and see that I do indeed have some pickles in there. I can’t remember if they were something I bought or something Aunt Lynda left behind.
Eh, who cares. They don’t go bad…right?
I open it up and take a whiff. Smells alright to me, so I get to work. By the time I bring the drinks out to the porch, Echo is sweating slightly.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, just got a little dizzy for a minute.”
I set the glasses down and move toward him. “Do you need some water?”
He shakes his head and then nods. “Yeah, actually, that would be good.”
I rush back inside and bring him out a bottle of water. He’s holding one of the drink glasses in his hand and staring at it.
“This doesn’t smell good.”
“It’s not meant to. It’s meant to make you feel alive.”
He takes another whiff. “Smells like pickles.”
“You got it.”
He doesn’t look excited to drink it, taking a sip of his water instead.
“Look, I’ll show you how good it is. I’m a true artist.” I bring it to my lips and throw it back, swallowing roughly. I almost pass out, the whiskey and pickle juice burning my throat.
I gag and wheeze, and when Echo shoves the bottle of water at me, I gulp it down, trying not to die.
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass on that drink.”
I swipe at my eyes and glower at him. “Your loss. I saw heaven for a minute. It was very nice.”
“Ha,” Echo says and then leans back, handing me the second glass. “Go on, then. Visit hell this time around.”
I roll my eyes and gulp most of it down, my eyes watering at the taste. I’m feeling slightly tipsy, wondering if that pickle juice was so old that it started to ferment. But what do I know. I just know I’m sweating in a bodysuit on the porch with a hot guy whose name I don’t know.
“It’s not your fault, by the way,” he says after a long beat.
I blink. My fault? What’s he talking about?
“I can’t do brine. Ménière’s means I can’t have salt, like, at all. My vertigo’s kind of a bitch today, and pickle juice will make it worse.”
I blush. I didn’t know. Maybe I should have, but it wasn’t like I got deep into the medical reasons for my former clients’ hearing loss. I just showed up where they told me to and made sure no one was missing anything.
“Breathe,” he says, lightly touching my arm, and I realize my lungs are burning. I exhale rapidly, then suck in another breath. “I also don’t drink first thing in the morning.”
I stare at him and finish the glass before I hiccup and say, “What’s your name?”
Echo blinks at me. “You really wanna know?”
“Yes, I do. I think it’s only fair. You know mine. Where I live. My sad and pathetic dating life…what my dick looks like.”
He laughs again, and I can’t help but be pleased he thinks I’m funny. Or maybe that’s the pickle juice talking. “Name’s Thorne. With an E.”
I blink at him. “Thorne? Are you fucking with me?”
“No. That’s my name.”
“I mean, Leaf and Thorne. That’s pretty fucking funny, right?”
He cocks his head and then shrugs. “Yeah, guess so. Didn’t think about it, to be honest.”
I roll my eyes and pick the wedgie out of my ass again. “Okay, well, I need to change. I can’t stand this outfit. It fit me perfectly ten years ago. I’ve since then matured, and it’s a little too tight.”
His lips twitch. “Why do you still have it?”
I shrug and make pointed eye contact. “For days like today, Thorne.”
“Go on,” he says, his voice a little low. “I’ll wait here and protect your plants from the birds.”
“And from Michael, please and thank you. If you see him, shoot him in his smug little face.”
I rush upstairs, past all the boxes lining the hallway. My aunt had a bit of a hoarding problem. I need to rent a large dumpster and shovel the shit out of here. I’ve lived amongst it for far too long.
I think about the logistics of this as I change back into the outfit I was wearing when Echo—or, well, Thorne—appeared. And when I make my way back downstairs, I see him glancing around the yard, his hands on his hips, almost as if he’s searching for someone. Or something.
“I didn’t see Michael,” he says when he notices my appearance, and I sigh.
“Figures. He’s underground right now.”
“Where?”
“Oh, several places. A whole network of tunnels. That shady little fucker.” I walk down the porch stairs and grab a shovel. “You still feeling dizzy?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just don’t hit me with a shovel or anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We get the plants in the dirt in record time, and when we’re done, we lounge on the porch, eyeing the dreaded apple orchards in the distance.
“What are you going to do with the apples since you’re allergic?”
“Burn all the trees down?” I say and then laugh, sipping on some water.
I’m still feeling a little tipsy from the pickle juice whiskey, but I think I’ve sweated most of it out.
Thorne looks actually concerned. “I’m not serious.
My aunt has a company come and harvest them.
I know the owner who runs it. It’s the one thing she had still working before she went.
Everything else is kind of crumbling around me. Literally.”
Thorne glances around, taking in the overflowing boxes sitting on the porch.