Page 16 of A Wolf for Winter

She’d just decided that another box, this one of dried goods like pasta and beans, would further obscure it when a throat cleared behind her.

“Something I can help you with, Miss?” Allen asked.

“No!” She gulped in a breath, realizing her response was the epitome of suspicious, and repeated in a controlled voice, “No.”

He didn’t reply, just watched her with those golden-brown eyes. Waited patiently for her to continue, or perhaps get out of his way so he could finish unloading the truck. But she couldn’t leave yet; she had to make sure he hadn’t seen anything and wouldn’t see anything until she could sneak back down here later and move the crate to a different hiding spot. A heat bloomed on her cheeks, spreading to her neck, and she got flustered. “Um, well, where were you? Boar’s ready to go.”

“Just using the restroom, Miss.”

Distantly, she heard the rush of a water as a toilet tank refilled itself. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything, after all. Better sell it, just to be sure. “Oh, well, you really shouldn’t have stacked all the boxes right here beside the door, you know? I basically broke my toe when I tripped on my way in here with the sweet breads!”

“Do you want me to look at it?”

His calm question caught her off-guard. “Wh-what?”

“Your toe. I have some medical experience.”

“You do?”

His smile was soft, the same kind you’d use on a frightened animal. He took a step closer and Lilac bumped up against the stacked boxes.

“Homegrown Roots’ butcher shop isn’t the first place I’ve worked. You pick up some first-aid know-how sooner or later when you’re slinging knives around.”

He hadn’t come any closer, but Lilac’s heart was pounding. She wasn’t used to anyone looking at her with kind sincerity in their eyes. Offering to help her with no thought of personal gain.

Except he’s a liar, remember?

Lilac straightened up, hugging her cloak tighter around her as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you were just a delivery boy.” She’d put some ice in her voice, hoping her condescending tone would get a rise out of him and get him to break his carefully controlled persona.

“I multitask,” came his dastardly, even-tempered reply. Those golden-brown eyes flicked to her foot. “So, that toe?”

“Don’t you know a witch’s magic can heal herself?” She sniffed, turned promptly on her heel, and marched out of the cellar. And right into Boar’s broad chest. “Oof! Watch where you’re going, meathead!”

Ignoring her, he looked over her shoulder to where Allen was closing and locking the cellar doors. “You good?”

“Yeah. We can take the truck down if you want. Someone’ll have to hold on in the back, but three can sit on the bench seat up front.”

“Rose and I will walk,” Lilac declared, linking her arm around Rose’s.

“We will? But the three of us are supposed to stick to—”

“We’ll see you down there.” Lilac practically hauled her sister around and started walking. It was like dragging an unconscious mule behind her.

“Lilac, wait.”

She turned, arching an imperious eyebrow. As if a delivery boy who moonlighted as a butcher had any right to tell a Hawthorne to do anything. Even if he had the most beautiful golden-brown eyes.

He trotted the few steps to her, snowflakes catching in his blond hair. “Here.” He dropped the caretaker keys back into her stunned hand. “Don’t lose them on the way to the pub. Something tells me Zofia isn’t above tanning both our hides if we should lose them.”

He was giving the keys . . . back to her? But why would he give up his leverage?

“Allen,” Rose said, “since you’re new here, I think I should tell you that when Lilac looks like this—you know, surly?—she’s really trying to say thank you, but the words are caught in her throat.”

“Oh, so not surly at all.” Allen gave her a teasing half-smile. “Just verbally constipated. Got it.”

Boar threw his head back with a laugh, and Rose beamed a smile at the new caretaker. Lilac just shoved the keys into her pocket, gathered up her cloak, and stomped off in the direction of the village.

Laugh. Laugh all you want. It won’t matter when my potions speak for themselves. Then I’ll be the one laughing when you’re all proven wrong. She threw a glare over her shoulder at Allen Sharpe and his easy smile and disarming persona and attractive face and enchanting eyes. Especially about him.