“I have no doubt she will. You are excellent company, after all.”
“Am I?”
“There.” Luna turned the angle of his tie pin slightly and patted his chest. “You look . . . no, wait!” Whirling on heel, she plucked a marigold from its foam platter display. It was the same variety as the nosegay Nigel had brought for Bryony the night before. A nice touch. Luna tucked it into his buttonhole, then stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “That’s just the thing. You’re beautiful, Mr. Grimm.”
“I am?”
She turned away swiftly, catching up her broom with both hands. “Now, you’d best hurry along,” she said, not quitemeeting his gaze. She wafted a hand in the direction of the door. “Go on! Shoo.”
Nigel’s brow crinkled. “Are you quite sure about this, Miss Talbot?”
“Quite. I’ll see everything snug here and be well on my way long before . . . well, before . . .”
She didn’t finish. But her silence was speaking. It occurred to Nigel suddenly that she might assume he intended to bring Bryony back to his place after dinner. His eyes widened. Was Bryony expecting that as well? Washeexpecting that? He couldn’t say that he was. But he also couldn’t say that he wasn’t. None of this was particularly well thought out.
He looked down at his tie pin, turning it slightly so that it was no longer quite straight. “And,” he said, “do you have plans tonight yourself? With Ward the Wardsman, perhaps?”
Luna began sweeping aggressively at shards of glass, which tinkled under the broom bristles. “It’s not like I see Wardeverynight.”
“No, of course not.” Nigel frowned and shook his head. “None of my business, anyway.”
She looked up at him again from under her lashes, a coil of hair hanging between her eyebrows. “Have a good time, Mr. Grimm,” she said.
There was something in the way she spoke. Something in her tone that made him think she wasn’t saying what she meant. That she wanted him to respond in a way that would make a difference somehow, that would change this strange strain between them. Only he didn’t knowwhat.Because he couldn’t read the mask of her sweet, emotionless smile.
“Thank you, Miss Talbot,” he said instead.
Then, as there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do, he left.
Well, that was deftly handled now, wasn’t it?
Luna set her teeth in a firm grimace as she angled her broom under the front display table, swiping debris out into the open floor. She could be proud of herself. There was absolutely no way that Mr. Grimm could look back now on the events of the day and think that she had been practicallythrowingherself at him all afternoon. Not when she’d proven so very accommodating. Not when she’d taken such pains to make certain he got out the door on time for his date. Now, when he thought about it, he would recall nothing but the sweet and helpful shop assistant she was meant to be. And anything she may have inadvertently betrayed during thoseinterestinglast few hours . . . all that would soon be forgotten.
“Bryony will help him forget,” Luna muttered.
She applied her broom more vigorously until the flowers all retreated into their pots and vases, blossoms shielded behind leaves. She gathered a big pile of glass shards and potting soil into a little mountain in the middle of the shop, then moved to fetch her dustpan. Halfway there, however, her stomach knottedhard and so suddenly, she halfway doubled over. “Gods!” she gasped, pressing a fist to her middle. Why did she feel so absolutelysickinside?
“It’s just been a long day,” she muttered, glancing at the dahlias, who watched her rather shamefacedly. “I haven’t eaten. And the stress, you know. It was a stressful afternoon.”
The fit passed. She found her dustpan, filled it, emptied it into the wastebasket, then turned to find the double-delight watching her with a many-bloomed gaze.
“I’mnotjealous,” she declared. Her voice sounded a bit too high-pitched, perhaps, but she cleared her throat and lowered it, speaking in calm, measured tones. “Why should I be jealous? So he prefers Bryony. What of it? It’s not as though Mr. Grimm is the only man alive.”
She resumed her sweeping, discovering another stash of broken vases which the tiger lilies had attempted to hide behind a veil of big fern leaves. She cleaned it up, declaring to the ferns and the tiger lilies as she did so, “I’m not after a man in any case. Why would I be? I haven’t any business gettinginvolvedwith anybody! It’s just not practical.”
She carried the mess in her dustpan to the wastebasket and poured it in. As she watched glittering shards of broken glass tumble out, her mind flashed back to one of many moments that afternoon. When Mr. Grimm’s head broke through the surface of the water, gasping for breath in the instant before a huge expulsion of laughter burst from his lungs. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him like that before. So relaxed, so unaware of himself.
Tears sprang to Luna’s eyes. She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand roughly across her nose. Green Mother spare her, she wasnotgoing to cry again! She’d cried all last night, and look what that had done for her? Absolutely nothing. It was such a useless waste of time, all that weeping and moaning. She wasover it. If there was ever anitto beoverin the first place. Which there wasn’t. Not really.
Her wastebasket was full. Luna stared down at the mounding contents for some moments before this fact finally registered. With a little shake of her head, she set aside her broom and pan and heaved the basket up into her arms. She’d have to empty it in the dumpster out in the alley, a task Mr. Grimm usually managed for her. Well, she didn’t need him. She was a strong and capable woman, and she—
The shop bells jingled in warning.
Luna had just stepped into the back passage, but stopped short at the sound. Her heart jolted. Had Mr. Grimm forgotten to lock up behind him when he left? Or was it possible . . . could it be . . . ?
Still holding the wastebasket, Luna turned about and peered from the passage into the shop. Her heart, lifted one moment with hope, took an abrupt plummet for the pit of her stomach even as her lungs constricted around a painful inhale.
Mr. Sulivan Marlin strode across the display floor, wheezing his way toward the counter. His wide nostrils flared beneath the round spectacles perched on the end of his beaky nose, and his sharply-cut goatee seemed to bristle with the intensity of his indignation. He reached the counter and rang the bell aggressively several times before turning his head and spying Luna where she stood in the passage entrance.“You!”he bellowed, lifting a trembling finger and pointing it at her with all the accusatory force of an angel of judgement. “Don’t you try to hide from me, missy! You ran away earlier, but I told you I’d be back! Andthistime, I’ve got reinforcements on the way!”
