Page 30 of A Wolf for Winter

“Boar said the Roots had to cancel their booth for the day, probably because Kalina’s with Zofia in the hospital and Jim is left to manage the shop,” he explained. “But the booth was still grown, and it’s empty. Or, it had been. See?”

Lilac gasped again, hands flying to her mouth. Between one heartbeat and the next, the spark inside her rekindled with newfound hope.

Upon a plain linen tablecloth and arranged in neat little rows were her bottles, jars, vials, and soaps. Most, but not all. There was no sign declaring the identity of the vendor, but anyone passing by would immediately recognize her and the wares she offered. Even if they thought she was selling them on her mother’s behalf.

“But . . . but I heard the crate shatter!”

“The crate, yeah, but I tossed everything else into the snow bank. Boar should’ve been a little more specific in his command, but shhh, don’t tell anyone.”

Leaning over her, but careful not to touch her, he picked up a green glass bottle. “One of these did break, though. Cut my hand on the glass, but then I tried some of your Wound Salve and it healed it right up. Quite the talent you have.”

Lilac’s heart would’ve sang if it had only had a voice.

Allen handed her the bottle to inspect. “I tried my best to reink the labels, since some got pretty wet. About half are really smudged, and I didn’t want to assume or anything, so I set those off to the side for you to check out. If you have time between customers.”

His wink sent a shudder down her spine that pooled in her belly.

“Allen . . . I don’t know what to say.” Her thoughts were a swarm of bees to match the flurry of butterflies in her stomach. She realized her eyes were stinging. With excitement, hope, and more than a little shame. She’d had no right to use him as her scapegoat.

Allen cleared his throat to gain her attention, pulling the pocket square from his vest and offering it to her.

“A handkerchief?” She sniffled, blinking back her tears. Then she actually giggled. “How cliché.”

“It’s only cliché if it doesn’t work.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” Then she gulped. “But you won’t be. By the Green Mother, Boar will kill you when he finds out.”

“If. If he finds out. And he won’t if you sell out quickly. So save my hide and get to it, okay?”

If she wasn’t convinced he was some kind of con man and harboring a secret motive, she would’ve thrown her arms around him and kissed him. As it was, her arms itched to do just that. Allen seemed to sense it, color rising to his cheeks. But he only gave her a nod and turned away, probably to make himself scarce.

When Lilac turned back to the booth, her booth full of her potions, the smile that split her lips was genuine and wide. It didn’t even hurt.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

Allen failed his own command, risking the glance over his shoulder at the witch.

Lilac was watching his retreat, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. When their eyes met, hers widened like those of a spooked doe as a flush bloomed on her cheeks. Then she was busying herself with rearranging a few things, purposefully ignoring him.

His wolf howled with delight.

Oh shut up, Allen told him, but he couldn’t help grinning himself. His surprise had gone over better than he’d intended. Much better. She might just trust him now. While that hadn’t been his objective, if that was a consequence, he wouldn’t complain. He’d done it because it was the right thing to do . . . and a small part of him, which was growing every day, just wanted to see her happy. To change the fate of that sad girl in the photograph.

When Allen collided full-on into a booth—thankfully the vendor was just selling knitted scarves and hats and nothing breakable—he chastised himself to get his head in the game. To remember his mission.

Protect the Hawthornes. Not cozy up to one of them.

His wolf huffed.

With Rose having gallivanted off into the crowd with that hard-looking man he recognized from the pub—he recognized everyone from the village, actually—it was up to Allen to man the refreshment table. He had sight lines on both Lilac in her booth and Boar at the door, and his nose told him Rose hadn’t left the building. If or when she did, he would excuse himself and reel her back in with some excuse.

In the meantime, he had cookies and baked goods to sell. He wasn’t alone at the table. Sam Barley had sent up half a dozen servers, including Talia, with a bunch of appetizers to keep everyone happy. Like she had at the pub, Talia spent all of her time gazing wistfully in Boar’s direction. He was surrounded by other handsome men, really chumming it up, so she could’ve been pining after anyone, though Allen doubted it.

Poor girl’s got it bad.

So bad, in fact, Allen had been called from his post twice to clean up spills from where she’d run straight into a booth, another time into a cluster of people. A senior server harshly told her that another misstep—whatever it was—would get her fired. Sniffling to hold back her tears, Talia returned to the table to restock her tray with little cocktail sausages. At least these wouldn’t break like the punch cups.