Page 26 of Rebel Moon

“She’s just been hired at the bank,” Sue said. “And she told me she’s worried about what to wear to work. She doesn’t have many nice clothes.”

“Oh, I’m all over this,” I said.

I might have bought too much but I didn’t really care. For the little girl, I found a proper art set with a wooden case of colored pencils, pastels, watercolors, and a sketchbook with a thick creamy cover. One of the vendors had a warm wool coat in a color I thought a six-year-old artist might like. Deep purple. For the boy, the baseball mitt, obviously, a real leather one, and a ball and bat to go in it. I got a jacket for him too, plus hats and gloves for both kids. There were kids’ sleds I couldn’t walk past, so they got added to my list. As did a beautiful handmade wooden box with dragonflies carved into the top that was so pretty I had to get it for the girl. And then, since it should be even, I found a sports bag the boy could store his baseball gear in.

That left Martha.

The mother’s assignment was made for me. Choosing clothes for a professional job? I knew how to do it better than anyone. I found her a coat, a good wool one, camel-colored and very similar to the one I owned myself. I added two pairs of well-cut trousers, a couple of sweaters in colors that would go with everything, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer that would carry her through a dozen outfits. Nothing trendy. Nothing that would date. I even found a leather tote, structured and simple, big enough for a single mother’s life. And finally, a pair of boots with a low heel that would be appropriate for work.

Martha King was never going to walk into that bank feeling like she didn’t belong. Not if I had anything to say about it.

For a splurge, I bought a soft wool wrap in deep green, knowing it was the kind of thing a frazzled, tired, single mother would never in a hundred years buy herself.

I was looking at a pair of fleece-lined boots for myself when I saw Knox out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see him three feet away at the next booth, a shopping bag in one hand, watching me.

He was wearing his hat. He’d gotten it off the doormat, then. Good.

“Hey, Madeleine.”

Not Price?

“Knox.” My voice came out almost normal. A small miracle. “I see you found your hat.”

“I did.” He shifted the bag to his other hand. “Thank you for that. Bringing it by.”

“It seemed like the least I could do.” My cheeks flooded with heat and my careful composure felt like it was melting off me faster than an ice cream cone on a hot Nashville day. “Since you—since I gather I required a fair amount of managing last night. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It happens. For me, too many times to count.” He said it quietly, evenly, no smirk anywhere on him. “At least you didn’t try to throw anything off a roof.”

“Thank God. And it never happens to me. Except for last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

“You were having fun. Not a crime last time I checked.”

“I’m sorry you had to babysit me. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A twitch pulsed at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile. “For what it’s worth, you were a real cheerful drunk. Got us all singing.”

“That might be the worst part—me, singing in front of three sleighs full of musicians.”

“You were killing me.”

“I’m glad you thought I was funny and not totally annoying.” I made myself hold his gaze, though a trickle of sweat ran down my back. “For real, though, I—thank you. Getting me back to my cabin safely and, you know, staying with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no big thing,” Knox said.

“I’m sorry you had to see me that way. And had to take my clothes off.”

He glanced away, scratching his neck, grimacing. “Yeah, that’s not the worst thing that ever happened to me.” He chuckled. “You said your jeans were eating your flesh. Couldn’t have that.”

Not the worst thing. What did that mean?

“Eating my flesh. Apparently drunk me is quite dramatic.”

“It was cute.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my feet.

“You thinking about getting those for yourself?” He gestured toward the fleece-lined boots.