“Ow.”
“Oh, sorry!” Shetskedand shook her head. “Well, you’ve turned a striking shade of purple, if that’s any comfort to you.”
“Should it be?”
“You’ll be the envy of all the violets and irises back in the shop.”
He grimaced. “Just so long as the begonias don’t take one look at me and despair.”
“I don’t think begonias come in purple. Not our varieties in any case.”
“There’s a relief.”
Luna smiled softly, then, with a little sigh, took a seat on the cot beside him. This surprised Nigel greatly. He’d thought she would abandon him to the ministrations of the nurse on callages ago. But here she was, swinging her feet, ankles crossed demurely, hands folded in her lap.
“I’m going to tell Officer Ward to . . . to . . . to write-up that Bad Apple man, or something,” she declared with rather more venom than one expected from a woman in cherry-print. “That was malicious assault on his part, I’m sure of it! He was out for vengeance after the dunking you gave him.”
“You’d have a difficult time making a case for malice,” Nigel said, pressing the icepack back into place. “Weweredirectly opposite the apple-chucking event. Casualties were bound to occur eventually.”
“No.” Luna shook her head. “He did it on purpose. I don’t think he expected anyone to actually hit the target! You were the first, and I bet he spent an age painting himself red all over like that, only to have to do it again. See?” She pointed a finger, closing one eye, and clicked her tongue. “Motive.”
“Perhaps you missed your calling, Miss Talbot. You should have become a solicitor.”
“Because they’d definitely let someone likemeinto law school!” she snorted. But the way she unconsciously tugged at the cuff of her left sleeve reminded Nigel all over again how limited her life’s options had become in recent history.
Her hand came to rest on the edge of the cot. Inches from his own. How easy would it be to just slip his fingers over hers? To feel again that warmth of connection which they’d shared several times today, beginning with that moment when she reached over the shop counter, placed her hand atop his, and urged him to come.
It was strange how the day had played out. How he’d felt pulled away from her at every turn, and yet all the most meaningful moments of the last several hours were those brief times when they reconnected. Almost as though those moments—the funnel cake debacle, the fete wheel, the damnable HauntedHouse, their awkward dance—even this little sliver of time, right here and now—those were the onlyrealparts of the day. The rest was nothing but inconsequential blur.
Only that inconsequential blur had included Officer Ward. Who always managed to draw Luna back to himself. And she was obviously happy to be reclaimed each time.
Nigel cleared his throat and adjusted the placement of his icepack. “So,” he said, “Ward seems . . . nice. For a wardsman.”
“Yes,” Luna nodded. “He is. Very nice.”
“Does it ever get confusing? Ward the Wardsman?”
“I find it rather convenient, actually. Makes it easier not to forget his name.”
Nigel blinked. One wouldn’t expect a young woman to be at risk of forgetting the name of the man she was stepping out with. “Well, I—” he began.
Luna turned to face him quite suddenly then and interrupted in a rush, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grimm.”
“Sorry?”
She bit her lip and looked down at her lap again, her fingers twisting together. “About today. The apple.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“The stupid unicorn.”
“How can you apologize for that worthy missile? It came through for me in my hour of need!”
She snorted and covered her mouth with her fingers. Then, looking at him sideways: “The Haunted House.”
“Unless you personally planned, designed, and executed that hideous projection, I don’t see that you have anything for which to apologize.”
“The . . . funnel cake?”
