Turning, his gaze found her instantly, and he smiled to himself as he watched her baby talk one of her plants in the kitchen windowsill. As he stepped closer, he saw it was a very large carnivorous one—a Venus Fly Trap with long needle-like teeth ready to snap shut on its prey. “Does it have a name?” He asked, gaze dropping to the inch of skin exposed across her low back as her shirt rode up. Ivy added water to the ceramic tray beneath the pot. “Morticia,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “The Pitcher Plant next to her is Gomez.”
