The Beast Within (The Elite Series) - By Jonathan Yanez Page 0,3
ask her for any compensation but he knew she would eventually insist or find some excuse to give him money.
After taking a quick shower and throwing on his favorite pair of old jeans and a black shirt, he was off again. Connor’s tastes had never been expensive. His vehicle embodied this trait. He owned an older model pickup, but it was reliable and quicker than it looked. Within minutes, he pulled up to his mother’s shop.
The store was located on Park Avenue, the main business street of town, a perfect location for enticing the everyday passersby with sales and new products. The store boasted a huge brightly colored sign that read Moore’s Flowers and More. Connor warned his mother that the store name was cliché but she insisted it was catchy. He pulled into the back parking lot and headed into the tastefully decorated store.
The sign on the door that should have read “Open” at this time of day was flipped over to “Closed.”
That’s odd, he thought as he unlocked the door. A familiar jingle met his ears as he entered the building. The smell of fresh flowers, newly delivered mulch, and insect repellent greeted him like old friends.
Aisle after aisle was lined with everything imaginable needed for landscaping. Posts, pots, shovels, rakes, and hoses stood like rows of Spartan soldiers waiting to be deployed.
“Connor, is that you?”
“I’m here, Mom.”
Walking to the rear of the store, he saw his mother. At forty-two, Rebecca Moore hadn’t lost a bit of her youthful charm and elegance. She was average height, with shoulder length light brown hair that was just beginning to turn white.
She smiled and motioned him to follow her to the back.
“Why did you close the store?”
“We have a guest,” Rebecca explained. “Come and say hello.”
Connor followed his mother to the small back office, which held a desk and three folding chairs. Ledgers lined the walls and a tall lamp stood guard in the corner. Entering the office, Connor did a double take when he saw his mother’s guest. There, sipping on a cup of tea and wearing the same suit she’d worn earlier that day, sat Connor’s mystery woman.
“Connor, this is Laren. Her family owns most of the real estate in the area, including this location. Since we opened the shop, they have been very generous landlords.”
Both Connor and Laren were dumbfounded. Laren set her tea cup on the desk and was the first to find her voice.
“Hello, Connor.” She stood and extended her hand, “It’s very nice to meet you.”
As her intense green eyes met his, she shook her head slightly, indicating she didn’t want Connor to show recognition. But why?
For the time being, he chose to play along. “It’s a pleasure, Laren.” Connor stopped his hand mid-reach and looked at her palm. “And I would love to shake your hand but—”
Laren couldn’t hold back a smile, however she quickly straightened her lips.
Connor’s mother stood back, aghast. “Connor, I thought I raised you better than that.” Looking over at Laren, she began to apologize. “I am so sorry, Laren. I don’t—I can’t—”
“No need to apologize, Mrs. Moore. Thank you for the tea and for letting us know about the men who visited you. Rest assured the matter will be dealt with quickly and professionally.”
Still recovering from her son’s rudeness, she took Laren’s hand in her own and addressed her with sincere gratitude. “Thank you, Laren. Thank your family for me as well.”
Now it was Connor’s turn to be out of the loop. What men had visited his mother? What did they want? And why didn’t Laren want his mother to know they’d already met?
As Laren moved toward the office door, Connor intercepted her. “Please allow me to walk you to your car. You never know who you might run into out there.”
“That would be very nice, Connor. Thank you.”
The two walked side by side, neither saying a word until they reached the door. Once outside, Connor turned to Laren. “If you wanted my attention, you could have just asked me out like a normal person instead of stalking me and finding out where I work.”
Laren rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“But seriously, all joking aside, it’s time for some answers.”
The cool mid-day June air, accompanied with a slight breeze, met them on the other side of the door. People walked busily from shop to shop. Cars cruised by at slow speeds, wary of pedestrians.
Still walking to her car—a brand new black BMW 5 series—Laren said, “Ask me.”