Luna closed her eyes and bit down hard on both lips.
Footsteps again. The opening and closing of the kitchen door. He was coming. Luna drew her shoulders back, schooled her face into serene lines, and waited for her employer to appear. He did the next moment—head down, sweaty shirt unbuttoned, hair falling over his eyes. He didn’t look her way, but darted for the stairwell, just as she’d known he would.
“Mr. Grimm?” Luna called out crisply.
He stopped. She could almost swear she heard a very softly muttered, “Damn.” Then he turned to face her, his own expression a mirror of hers. Blank.
“I was wondering,” she continued, “if . . . if I might take the rest of the day off?”
Her employer’s brow puckered. He glanced swiftly at the clock. It wasn’t quite 2:15.
“Only,” Luna continued in a rush, “I have a dinner date with John Ward at five. He’s off on assignment, and he’s got to catch the nine o’clock express tonight. He’s not sure how long he’ll be away, so it’s an early dinner or . . . or nothing.” She stopped. After all, Mr. Grimm didn’t need the whole rundown, did he?
His eyes flashed to meet hers, then darted away again almost immediately. As though he really could not bear the sight of her, which, well, how could she blame him? She’d put him in such an embarrassing and ridiculous position the other night. Asking him to hold her in the dark like that. Then all butbegginghim to kiss her, to . . . to possiblymorethan kiss her. Since when had she lost all sense of decorum? And on the night she’d learned ofAuntie Apolonia’s passing too! He must think her a wanton flirt without heart or conscience.
But at least now he knew she wasn’t seriously throwing herself at him. Because she had a beau. Of sorts. Whatever Ward was.
“Of course, Miss Talbot,” Mr. Grimm answered at last. He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck and cleared his throat rather aggressively. “Will you, erm. Will you wait until I’ve had a chance to freshen up?”
“Naturally,” she assented.
And she didnotwatch him as he slipped away. Nor did she let her mind linger on the sight of him, all messy and disheveled, which always seemed todosomething so strange to her innards. She wouldn’t think about him, she wouldn’t look at him, and she absolutely wouldn’t let her mind go back to that moment behind the counter. To the feeling of his chest pressed against hers. Of his hand in her hair, the sudden clenching of his fingers, the delirious pain and expectation and heat. The latent smolder in his voice when he’d growled,“What kind of villain would I have to be to . . .”
Nope.
She wasn’t thinking about any of that.
Luna flipped the sign back to OPEN and smiled brightly at the first customer who stepped through. “Welcome to The Arcane Bouquet! Is there anything I can help you with this afternoon?”
Mr. Grimm returned before she’d quite finished seeing to this customer’s needs. He appeared from the stairwell, his hair perfectly coiffed, his suit neat and fitted, cufflinks glinting at his wrists. He stepped behind the counter where Luna was wrapping up a bouquet, and her nostrils filled with a scent of sandalwood and cinnamon, which made her knees feel like rubber.
“Has this gentleman ordered a tea-scrying?” Mr. Grimm asked quietly, murmuring the words close to her ear.
Her skin prickled. Luna shook her head, not quite trusting her voice. She swallowed and managed a low, “No, just this bundle of peonies and ranunculus.”
He nodded. “I can take over. If you want to get going.”
“It’s all right, I’ll finish.”
“Really, it’s no trouble.”
He reached out, hand trembling, and took the floral shears from her. His fingers brushed hers, and she hoped to all the gods he didn’t feel the little shock of heat which roared up her skin at that fleeting instant of contact. He looked her in the eye, and his gaze was steady, firm. “Go on,” he said. “Have a nice time with Officer Ward tonight.”
Luna found herself searching for something in those sad blue eyes. She couldn’t even say what it was she sought, just . . . something. But he was so closed off, so distant. He stood as near to her as he ever had, and yet he might as well be a thousand miles away.
Realizing she needed to say something, Luna cleared her throat and blurted, “You too.” Then she frowned. “Um. That is, not with Officer Ward. Have a good night, I mean. With, um, Debbie.”
Before she could make herself any more ridiculous, she whirled about-face, yanked off her apron, grabbed her coat and hat, and didn’t even bother to don them before fleeing the shop. She hastened across Addle Street and down the far sidewalk, around the bend onto Nettleton Lane. Only there did she stop, lean her back against the brick wall, hit the heel of her hand against her forehead, and snarl,“Gods blightingdrat it!”
She remained like so for some little while, oblivious to the cold or to the curious gazes of passersby. In the end, however, she pulled on her coat, fingers shivering so hard, she struggled todo up the buttons. Then, turning up her collar, Luna set out for the long, long walk home.
Somewhere between that bunch of peonies and ranunculus at 2:30 and the last bundle of carnations, winter roses, and greenery at 4:55, an idea took root in Nigel’s heart and began to grow with a vengeance.
By the time he uttered his final, “And please consider The Arcane Bouquet for all your future floral needs,” and locked the door behind the last customer of the day, that idea had grown into conviction.
Nigel flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED, pulled the shade down over the little square window, then turned to face the flowers in the shop, all of whom looked at him with bloomy expectation. “I’m going to do it,” he declared, then turned sharply to a pot of dahlias, pointing a stern finger. “And don’t try to talk me out of it!”
What was the use, after all, in sitting around the shop, pining away for a girl who did not want him? It was pathetic. That’s what it was. Simply pathetic. Luna had made her feelings perfectly plain all this time. She liked him, yes. As a brother. All those little moments when he started to think, to hope, towonder? They were nothing more than pure delusion on his part.
