When I came back, Nella was in the hall outside the office with a roll of tape between her teeth and three flyers under one arm.
She took the tape from her mouth. “Did you find them?”
“I found them. I also found the Dusty bin.”
“Don’t open that.”
“I value my peace.”
“That bin contains four coconut cups, broken sunglasses, a fake mustache, and a shell he says looks like his childhood.”
“Why do you have it?”
“He labeled it during a slow shift, and I ran out of energy to fight the ocean’s chosen intern.”
I laughed.
The sound slipped out before I could stop it. Nella smiled at me for half a second, tired and quick, and my fingers tightened around the stack in my hands.
Her scarf had loosened. A curl stuck to the side of her neck, and the edge of the mark showed beneath it. The sight wentthrough me hard enough that the printed specials bent in my grip.
Nella’s smile faded into something hotter.
“What?” she asked.
“Your scarf is slipping.”
She lifted her hand toward her neck, then stopped before she touched the mark. “Is it bad?”
“No.”
“That wasn’t an answer to the question I asked.”
“It’s showing.”
She checked the front. “Staff?”
“No one’s in the hall.”
“Customers?”
“No.”
She let out a breath. “Can you fix it?”
“Yes.”
“Nico.”
I stepped closer and held her gaze. “May I fix it?”
Some of the tension left her mouth. “Yes. You may fix the scarf.”
I set the stack on the shelf beside us and moved behind her. The hallway was narrow enough that I could smell warm skin under citrus, tomato sauce, and the sharp sweetness of the drink special. I lifted the scarf tails, gathered the loose curl away from her neck, and kept my fingers off the mark.
I had moved every case in the building without thinking twice. This took both hands and every clean breath I had.
Nella’s breath caught once.
