Page 35 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

The color stung my eyes.

While one hand trapped the box flaps open, the other carefully reached inside. My fingertips grazed cotton.

I jerked my hand free, and my entire body jolted like I’d just been pricked by a needle.

With more force than was necessary, I shut the box, practically throwing it into the closet. Only when it was shoved away could I breathe again. The walls pushed back, giving me space. I fisted and unfisted my hand, shaking away the sting.

I never should have started cleaning. I never should have worried about what Piper would think of my house. I never should have opened that fucking box and let the memories trapped with a pink baby blanket escape.

Damn her. This was all Piper’s fault.

No, not her. This was all his fault.

My roar filled the room as I swatted the laundry basket off my bed and onto the floor. I picked up the lamp on my nightstand next, ripping the cord from the outlet. My arm was cocked, ready to send the lamp flying across the room, when someone knocked on the front door.

I threw the lamp onto my bed instead of into a wall, then I stormed down the hallway. My boots boomed on the wooden floor as I marched straight to the door, ripping it open so hard all three hinges moaned.

“What?” I shouted.

Piper’s dimples didn’t falter. “Is that how you always answer your door? Or is that greeting just for me?”

“I, uh . . .”

She stood there, grinning, as I looked her up and down. Her hair was tucked behind that one ear. Her eyes were laughing. And in her hands, a cake sat on a white platter rimmed with scallops.

She’d brought me a fucking chocolate cake.

Piper balanced the plate in one palm while her other hand pointed a slender finger past the porch. “Is that your shop? I hadn’t noticed it before, and I can’t see it from my camper. It’s enormous. After we eat some magic cake, maybe you could give me a tour.”

I blinked at her once. Then twice. The burning fire that had been coursing through my veins moments ago was just . . . gone. Somehow, she’d smothered the flames before they’d been able to take on a life of their own.

How did she do that? It wasn’t the first time either. What was so goddamn special about Piper Campbell that she had that kind of power over me? Until I got a handle on those answers, I should tell her to take that cake and go the fuck home.

I stepped back, waving her inside without a word. The smell of her hair hit me as she passed by. My eyes raked over the fitted, sleeveless dress she wore that hugged each of her curves. It was a deep khaki color, a few shades darker than her naked skin.

Her smile curved higher on one end as she crossed the threshold. She scanned the living room on the left, then the kitchen on the right without a grimace or a flinch in sight.

A rush of relief hit that I’d chosen today to clean. It irritated me how happy I was. Piper’s reactions were controlling too many of my feelings.

“What’s your stance on cake for dinner?” She set the cake down on the dining table situated close to the door.

“I’m not against it.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Where are your forks?”

I pointed to the drawers along the far wall of the kitchen. “Middle drawer.”

Her ass swayed on her tall heels as she strode across the kitchen like she owned the place. The front of her shoes were made up entirely of olive-green straps, all balanced on a thick heel in the same shade. They were sexy, like her dress, but I had no idea how she’d walked over here on the rough dirt trail without tripping.

But Piper had this grace in the way she walked, a surety with every step. She looked as comfortable in those chunky heels as I was in my boots.

“Plates are—”

“No plates.” She turned from the silverware drawer and waved the forks in the air, shaking her head as she walked back over. “Magic cake doesn’t need plates.”

Magic cake?

Before I could ask, she took a seat at the table, set down my fork in front of the other, then dug in.