Wicked Days (15 page)

Chad cast one more derisive look at Jack and then disappeared behind a row of trees. Once he was gone, Jack turned to Ivy. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Ivy rubbed her elbow. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“What are you even doing here?”

“I … .” There was no way Jack could tell her the truth. “I came out to see if you’ve gotten anywhere on the symbols.”

“Not yet.”

“Um … .”

“You could have called to ask me that,” Ivy pointed out.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence, which Jack couldn’t take.

“Okay, well, keep me posted,” Jack said. “I need to get back to the station.”

Jack gave her a wide berth as he circled behind her and headed for the parking lot. His fingers were itching to touch her – he couldn’t explain it – but there was no way he could stay on this path.

If he wasn’t careful, Ivy Morgan was going to be the one thing that could change his life – and that was the one thing he couldn’t allow. He wasn’t good enough for her, and he wouldn’t make the mistake of convincing himself otherwise.

She deserved better.

Ivy was still lost in her head when she left the nursery and turned toward home four hours later. Her father tried to engage her in conversation a few times over the course of the afternoon, but Ivy’s stilted and uninterested replies finally told him the one thing he needed to hear: She wanted to be left alone.

The walk between Morgan’s nursery and Ivy’s house wasn’t a long one, but Ivy opted for a meandering path so she could think. Chad’s visit was the stuff of nightmares, and if she wasn’t convinced he was hiding something before, she certainly was now. The question was: Was he trying to hide the fact that he was a murderer or a random pot grower with impulse control issues?

Once Chad found out Jack and Ivy were spying, his first inclination was to confront her. Sure, he’d gone about it in a roundabout way, but he’d never had any intention of buying cherry trees. He was trying to feel Ivy out. He wanted to know if she was suspicious, which she was.

His unfettered reaction to her disrespect was a whole other issue, and it was one Ivy wasn’t in the mood to dwell on. All she wanted now was to eat her leftover pasta and curl up with a good book. She needed to escape to a different world because she wasn’t overly fond of the one she was living in now.

Ivy was halfway up the front steps to her cottage when she noticed something on the front mat. She approached slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dimming light. It took her a moment, but she recognized the gift for what it was: a bouquet of flowers.

For a brief moment, Ivy’s heart soared.
Was this why Jack was here? Did he leave flowers?
Ivy instantly hated herself for her reaction. She did not want Jack Harker. She didn’t. He was off limits to her head and heart. She couldn’t fool herself into thinking otherwise.

Ivy’s hand was almost around the bouquet when her gaze shifted to the attached card. There was no writing on the envelope, and instead of picking up the flowers Ivy snagged the card and opened it.

Her heart hammered the second the pagan symbols from Mona’s body swam into view. She still didn’t recognize them for what they were, but she knew they were a warning. Jack definitely hadn’t left the flowers.

Ivy turned swiftly, scanning the darkening woods that surrounded her house. She’d always felt safe here. This was her home. She was untouchable here. She couldn’t help but feel as if someone was watching her, though.

With shaking fingers, Ivy drew her cell phone out of her pocket and punched in the number to the police station. She needed help – and something told her she needed it now.

JACK
was a bundle of nerves as he pulled into Ivy’s driveway. He could see her pacing in front of the bay window, and his heart lodged in his throat as her lithe frame moved to and fro. She was beautiful.

She was also in trouble, he reminded himself.

Jack pocketed his keys and jumped out of his truck, glancing up when he heard the front door open. He increased his pace so he could get to her quicker, and he couldn’t hide his surprise when Ivy threw herself into his arms.

He fought the urge to hold her – for exactly one second – and then tightened his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could manage without climbing inside of her skin. “Are you okay?”

“I … .”

Jack pulled away, moving his hands up to cup the back of her head and force her gaze to his. “What’s wrong?”

Ivy pointed at the flowers, her finger shaking. “I found those on the porch when I came home tonight.”

Jack waited, and when Ivy didn’t give any further information he hunkered down so he could study the bouquet. “They’re flowers.”

“I know that,” Ivy said. “I … this was with them.” She handed the card to Jack.

He studied it briefly, his heart clenching when he recognized the symbols. He still didn’t know what they meant, but one thing was clear: They were a warning. Someone was sending a clear message to Ivy.

“Do you think Chad left these?”

Ivy shrugged. “Who else?”

“You didn’t see him leave them, though, right?”

“No.”

Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair as he studied her expressive face. “You haven’t seen anyone hanging around here, have you?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Jack knelt down. “I’m going to take these and … .”

Ivy’s hand darted out, stilling Jack. “Don’t touch those.”

“Why?”

“It’s Windflower. It’s poisonous. It will give you a rash … and maybe something worse if you’re not careful.”

“Are you sure?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “This is what I do for a living.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jack said, straightening and holding his hands up to placate her. “I won’t touch them. Let’s go inside. You look a little shaken.”

“Someone was here, Jack. Someone came to my home.”

An invisible hand snaked around Jack’s heart and squeezed it. She looked rattled. No, she looked terrified. It was something he never wanted to see on her face. “Come on, honey. Let’s go inside.”

There was no teasing in his words tonight.

“I NEED
to do something,” Ivy said, walking back and forth in front of the counters in her small kitchen. “I need to think about something else. Food. Do you want food? I want food.”

Jack wasn’t hungry, but he was willing to agree to anything that would stop Ivy’s relentless pacing. “I could eat.”

“I made pasta last night. There’s plenty leftover for both of us. I’ll heat it up.”

“Okay.”

After leaving the flowers on the porch and calling Brian, Jack took photos and then watched as the older police officer confiscated the unsafe blooms and tossed them in his truck so he could transport them back to town.

After a brief discussion, Brian left Ivy in Jack’s capable hands – and now Jack had no idea what to do. Ivy was a nervous wreck, and he felt like he might jump out of his skin at any moment. Being around her was turning him into a wreck, too – it was just a wreck of a different sort.

Jack watched Ivy work for the next twenty minutes, keeping his mouth shut and his eyes open. She knew what she was doing around a stove. Her hands were deft, and when she pushed the plate in front of him Jack was surprised to hear his stomach rumble in approval at the scent.

Maybe he was hungrier than he thought. “This looks good.”

“I like to cook,” Ivy said, sliding into the open chair next to him. “I … I didn’t even ask if you’re okay with this. I don’t have any meat, but I might have some canned soup or something in the pantry if you’d rather have that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want this?”

“You said the morels looked gross.”

Jack pressed his lips together, searching for the right words to make her feel better. He had no idea what they were. “Honey, I was just messing with you,” he said. “I happen to love morels.”

Ivy watched as he dug into the dish, her eyes wide. The mushrooms weren’t what he was expecting – they definitely didn’t taste like the ones dumped on his pizza whenever he ordered it – but they weren’t half bad. “Delicious.”

“You’ve never eaten morels before, have you?”

Jack considered lying and then changed his mind. “No. They’re good, though.”

“Do you want me to make you something else?”

“No.”

“I … you’re only still sitting here because you don’t want to leave me alone while I’m freaking out,” Ivy said. “The least I can do is cook you something you like. The problem is, I have no idea what you like.”

“I like pasta,” Jack said. “I like mushrooms. I like this. Please stop … doing that. If you keep this up, I’m going to start freaking out, and nobody wants to see that.”

Ivy finally smiled, the first real one he’d seen since she threw herself into his arms on the front porch. It warmed him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. God, he really loved her face.

Jack shook his head, jolting himself out of his melancholy. “What are you going to do when we’re done here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to Max’s house? Is he coming here?”

Ivy balked. “No. I’m not calling Max. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

Jack’s warm feelings started to shift. “You’re not staying here alone.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You are not,” Jack said. “Someone could be watching you. There are thousands of places for people to hide in these woods. You’re isolated here. If you get in trouble,  I might not be able to make it out here in time to save you.”

“Save me? I don’t need anyone to save me.”

The way she’d raced to him earlier told him differently. He decided to change tactics. “Ivy, it’s okay to be afraid,” he said. “Someone is threatening you. You should be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You are, honey,” Jack said. “I don’t blame you. I’m scared for you. You can’t stay here alone.”

“Well, I am.”

Jack growled, the sound taking both of them by surprise. He was done trying to be reasonable. “Fine. If you’re staying here, then I’m staying here with you.”

“No way,” Ivy said. “I … no. That’s just asking for trouble.”

Jack couldn’t argue with the sentiment, but there was no way he was leaving her to her own devices. “You’re either calling Max and having him come here, calling Max and going to his house, or finding a blanket and a pillow so I can sleep on your couch. Those are your options.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Don’t push me on this, Ivy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

They narrowed their eyes as they faced off, both of them refusing to back down. It was anyone’s guess who was going to win.

“I HOPE
you’re happy.”

Ivy hurled a pillow and blanket at Jack as he moved the back cushions from the couch to the floor.

“I’m thrilled,” Jack said, refusing to make eye contact. He was convinced if he looked into her murderous eyes he was either going to shake her or take her. One of those emotions was going to get him into trouble. He just couldn’t figure out which one.

“I want you to know that I’m lodging a formal complaint with the police chief tomorrow,” Ivy warned.

“I’ll be excited to read the report.”

“I … I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Good, because that’s not what I’m doing,” Jack said. “Quite frankly, I think those mushrooms were funky. My stomach is upset, and I’m really thankful you offered me a spot on your couch instead of risking me driving home when I have food poisoning.”

“Are you suggesting I poisoned you with my cooking?” Ivy asked, hands on hips. Those were fighting words.

“I’m suggesting that no force on Earth could move me from this couch tonight,” Jack said, reaching for the back of his shirt and tugging it over his head. She’d already seen the scars. There was no sense in hiding them now.

The second Ivy saw his muscled chest she knew she was in trouble. She had to get out of this room. They were both emotionally charged. They were either going to smack each other around or roll on top of each other naked. She couldn’t tolerate either prospect. “I … .”

Jack kept his gaze trained on the couch. “Go to sleep, Ivy.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m still not happy.”

“At last you’re safe.”

Was she? She wasn’t so sure. Every moment she spent with Jack put her one step closer to losing her heart. Losing her life was less scary.

After a fitful night of tossing and turning, Ivy climbed out of bed grumpy the next morning. Her long hair was standing out in odd places, and her shorts and tank top were wrinkled. She didn’t bother to fix any of it because she thought the sight of her in the morning would be just the thing to kill any inappropriate sexual interest – at least on Jack’s part.

Unfortunately, the sight of him shirtless as he slumbered on her couch, his face peaceful and ridiculously handsome as it pressed against her pillow, only served to ratchet up her libido.

“Darn it,” she grumbled, moving past the couch and heading straight for the kitchen so she could make a pot of coffee.

“Did you say something?” Jack mumbled into the pillow.

“I can’t believe you look like
that
after you’ve slept for eight hours,” Ivy said, not bothering to lie. “It’s just not fair.”

Jack opened his eyes, taking a second to focus on her as she buzzed around the kitchen and then fought to swallow his sigh. Her tiny shorts hung low on her hips and high on her thighs, making his mind swirl with fantasies about what was under them. Her tank top was simple, but it showed off her toned arms and back, and her face was devoid of makeup – but still beautiful. He even liked how her hair stood on end in places it wasn’t supposed to.

In the harsh light of day, demanding to sleep on her couch seemed like a stupid idea.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, rolling to a sitting position on the couch and cracking his neck. He couldn’t drag his eyes from her thighs.

“You look like a model in the morning,” Ivy said, flipping the switch on the coffee pot. “It’s just not fair.”

Jack chuckled. “I guess I’m supposed to take that as a compliment, huh?”

“I’m still mad at you,” Ivy said, pushing her lower lip out. “You can take it however you want to take it. It’s not my concern.”

She was too cute for words. Jack’s mind went to a dark place. It was incredibly hot, she was running her fingers through his hair, and … . “Um … what were you saying?”

“What were you thinking?” Ivy asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Jack said, standing up and stretching. When he finished, Ivy’s eyes were keenly focused on him – or rather the spot right above his boxer shorts. “What are you thinking?”

Ivy tugged a frustrated hand through her hair. “You don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Ivy said. “Trust me.”

Sadly, Jack was dying to hear what she was thinking. He had a feeling it matched what he was thinking. He shook his head to dislodge the thought.
Don’t go there!
“We need to have a talk, Ivy.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Ivy said. “I’m mad at you.”

Adorable. That was the only word Jack could think of to describe her right now. No, that wasn’t true. He could think of a few others. Sexy. Beautiful. Breathtaking. He was seriously getting sappy. This had to stop. “What can I do to make you forgive me?”

Ivy scowled at him. “Tell me you were wrong and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“You’re extremely capable,” Jack said, choosing his words carefully. “You’re … strong. That doesn’t mean I was wrong. If something were to happen to you when I knew I could protect you, I would never forgive myself.”

“Maybe I don’t need to be protected,” Ivy said, refusing to give in. “Maybe I was the one protecting you.”

Jack grinned, charming her despite her foul mood. “Fine. We were protecting each other.”

“I’m going to take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue with you,” Ivy said. She pointed toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“You don’t need to cook for me,” Jack said, although he was already moving. “I did kind of force myself on you last night.”

“Yes, but I’m still a good hostess,” Ivy said. “I have manners.”

“Since when?”

“Sit down.”

Jack smirked as he sat, running his hand over his stubbled chin as he watched her pull eggs, tomatoes, cheese and onions out of the refrigerator. “So, you’re a vegetarian but not a vegan?”

“What do you know about either?”

“My sister is a vegan,” he replied, unruffled. “She won’t eat any cheese or eggs. She won’t even use milk to cook.”

“That’s a little more restrictive than I can take,” Ivy said, cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. “I don’t eat meat, but I do eat dairy products. Are you okay with an omelet?”

“Sure,” Jack said. “I’m easy.”

“What do you eat at your sister’s house?”

“Nothing. Everything there tastes like feet.”

Ivy snorted as she chopped up the tomato. “Some of the substitute products do taste a little funky.”

“They taste like feet. Admit it.”

“I haven’t done a lot of feet eating.”

Jack watched her, mesmerized as she dumped the eggs into a skillet and then started folding vegetables and cheese in. For one lonely moment, he pictured them sitting here every morning, chatting over breakfast after spending the night together. It was a cozy feeling. “Why aren’t you married?”

Ivy balked. “Excuse me? Is this your usual level of morning chatter?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, shrugging. “I just … you would make some guy really happy.”

“On the contrary, I make men miserable,” Ivy said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jack said. “You’ve got a certain
way
about you. Men find you charming. Don’t deny it. Brian told me every man in this town has tried to date you. He says you’re the one fighting it.”

“Men find me charming for about a month,” Ivy said. “All of my Bohemian delights take about that long to wear off. Men like the weird girl from afar. When they actually get a chance to spend time with her they often find that they’d rather have a normal girl than put up with all the stares and whispers.”

“I think most of that is in your head,” Jack said. “I haven’t seen anyone pointing and staring.”

“Ava?”

“Ava has issues of her own,” Jack said. “She’s a bitter woman. She feels she always has to be in competition. She always wants to win, even if she doesn’t really want the prize. That’s a commentary on her, not you. Ava is the type of woman who will go after anyone she deems competition. It’s not about you being different. It’s about men wanting you more than they want her.”

Ivy’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re going to catch flies if you’re not careful,” Jack said.

Ivy turned back to the stove and pulled the skillet off, dividing the omelet in two and handing half of it to Jack before settling in the spot next to him at the table. Jack dug in with gusto while Ivy watched him eat. “Why aren’t you married?”

Jack swallowed, meeting Ivy’s probing gaze. “I’m not husband material.”

Ivy didn’t believe him. “Why?”

“I’m a cop,” he replied. “I keep odd hours. I’m dedicated to my job. There’s always a chance I won’t come home at night.”

“There’s a chance we all won’t come home at night,” Ivy said. “And you’re not in the city anymore. This is the first murder Shadow Lake has seen in – I can’t remember the last one. You’ll be able to keep more regular hours around here. What else do you have?”

Jack focused on his plate, worried that if he met Ivy’s sea-blue eyes he would jump in and drown himself in their beautiful depths. “I don’t have anything to give anyone else right now,” he said. “I … am dealing with some other stuff, and a relationship takes give and take. I have nothing to give.”

Ivy’s heart rolled sympathetically. “Okay.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“You’re honest,” Ivy said. “You know your own limitations. I admire that. I have the same limitations.”

“I think you’re limiting yourself,” Jack countered. “You hide out here because you think people are looking at you a certain way. Trust me, Ivy. They’re not looking at you with anything other than marvel and envy.”

Ivy made a face. “Thank you for saying that,” she said. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

“WAIT!
Don’t put your shirt on yet.”

After showering and shaving with one of Ivy’s disposable lady razors (something that should have embarrassed him – and yet didn’t) Jack was readying himself to leave. Before that happened, though, he needed to have a serious discussion with Ivy – and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Why can’t I put my shirt on?” Jack asked dryly, arching an eyebrow. “Are you ready to give in to an impulse?” He had no idea why he said it. Part of him was hoping she would say yes, though.

Ivy rolled her eyes, her long hair damp from her own shower as she moved closer to Jack. “Sit down.”

“Why?”

“Sit down, please.”

“Why?”

“Sit down or I’m going to make you sit down,” Ivy threatened, brandishing a tube of lotion as she regarded him with a serious expression.

“Fine,” Jack said, slouching on the armchair. “What?”

“This is a special lotion,” Ivy said, squirting a dollop onto her hand and then transferring it over to Jack’s scars.

He squirmed at the contact, opening his mouth to protest, but Ivy cut him off.

“You’ll always have the scars, but this will help them fade,” she said. “Put it on in the morning after you shower and at night before you go to bed. In a month, they’ll be a lot less obvious.”

“Maybe I want them to be obvious.” The feeling of Ivy’s fingers on his chest was driving Jack to distraction.

“You’re scarred in here,” Ivy said, pressing her fingertips to the spot above his heart. “You don’t want them to be obvious. That’s why you didn’t want to take your shirt off the other night. You’re embarrassed, but I have no idea why.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“You are. It’s okay. You still don’t have to tell me.”

“I … I was shot.” Jack swallowed hard.

“I know.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

“No.”

“Why not? Everyone wants to know why.”

“You’re not ready to tell me,” Ivy said pragmatically. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me. I won’t have to ask.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to let it go?”

“Yup,” Ivy said, straightening as she handed him the bottle of lotion. “I made that myself. It’s my last bottle. I’ll make more. It will be ready when you need it.”

“You make lotion?”

“I’m multitalented.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jack mumbled. “I … we need to talk about the flowers.” He was running as far away from this conversation as he could get.

“We both believe Chad left them,” Ivy said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to go in front of a judge and see if I can get a search warrant for Chad’s compound,” Jack said. “What I want to know is if you’re going to be okay if I leave you here.”

“I’m a big girl, Jack,” Ivy said. “I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, honey,” Jack said. “I just … the world would be a worse place without you in it. Promise me you’re going to be really careful.”

“I promise.”

“What are you going to do today?”

“I need to find what those symbols mean,” Ivy said. “They haunted my dreams last night. I know I’ve seen them before.”

Jack reached over and grabbed her hand, directing her attention to him. “Don’t go out to Chad’s compound. Don’t wander around the woods alone. Drive over to the nursery. Lock yourself in this house before it gets dark. Keep your cell phone close to you in case someone tries to break in.”

“I … .”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Jack said, squeezing her hand and then letting it go. “I still believe there’s a weird happy ending out there for you. You need to live to see it, though.”

He didn’t add that he desperately wished he could be involved in that ending. It was a moot point. He didn’t have anything to give her, and she deserved the moon, the stars, and everything in between.