“I forgot to pack clothes.” Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing out of her mouth? “I mean—I packed some clothes. Obviously. I’m wearing clothes. Just not—” She gestured vaguely at herself. “These aren’t my—I don’t usually?—”
Stop talking. Stop talking immediately.
Leo set his coffee down. Amusement flickered across his face—or maybe something warmer that he quickly suppressed. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.”
She crossed to the sideboard where a carafe sat waiting, trying not to think about how his eyes tracked her movement. Trying not to notice the way his attention felt like heat against her skin.
The coffee was perfect. Strong enough to strip paint, exactly how she liked it. She took a long sip, letting the caffeine work its magic on her scrambled brain.
“There’s food,” Leo offered. “Avine had the kitchen prepare a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, those pastries Dahlia made.”
“Dahlia’s pastries?”
“She dropped them off this morning. Mentioned comfort food and murderous architects.”
Despite everything, Junie smiled. That sounded exactly like Dahlia.
She loaded a plate with food she wasn’t sure she could eat—her stomach was doing strange things, and not from the near-death experience—and considered her options. Retreat to her room like a coward. Sit as far from Leo as possible and pretend they weren’t both thinking about the last time they’d talked.
Or sit across from him and face whatever this was head-on.
Junie had never been a coward. She’d also never been particularly smart about self-preservation.
She sat down across from Leo.
Glimmer emerged from her hiding spot in Junie’s disastrous hair and tasted the air in Leo’s direction.
“She’s decided you’re not an immediate threat.” Junie picked at a pastry. “High praise from Glimmer. She once tried to bite the mailman for looking at me wrong.”
“What happened to the mailman?”
“He switched routes. Now we get a very nice woman named Patricia who always compliments Glimmer’s scales.” Junie finally met his eyes. “You’re staring.”
“Am I?”
“You’ve been staring since I walked in.”
Leo didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what she’d accused him of. “You have flour in your hair.”
“What?” Her hand flew up, patting uselessly at the mess on her head.
“From the pastries, I assume.” He reached across the table—slowly, giving her time to pull away—and brushed crumbs from the crown of her head. His fingers were gentle. They lingered for a second longer than necessary.
“There.” His voice had gone slightly rough. “Got it.”
Junie’s pulse hammered against her throat. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stared at each other across the breakfast table, morning light streaming through the windows, the ruins of coffee and pastries between them. Neither spoke. Neither looked away.
Glimmer made a sound that might have been approval or might have been digestive distress. Hard to tell with snakes.
“I should—” Junie started.
“There’s research—” Leo said at the same time.
