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“Mmm. Honey.” I bury my nose in her neck and inhale deeply. “How much of that stuff did you bring with you?”
“Just a few of my favorites. I left all my supplies behind when I bolted.”
Though her tone is lighthearted, something twists inside me. I pull back to look at her.
“Your file had a note about an apartment on Sycamore Drive,” I say. “Most recent address.”
“My mother and I lived there before she hooked up with Eddie.” Hannah’s eyes cloud over. “She moved in with him, and I couldn’t afford the rent anymore. I rented out a room for a few months, but then I had to go to work at Zodiac and most of my paycheck went right back to Eddie.”
I curl my fingers against her waist, smothering a firestorm of rage. Eddie doesn’t know it yet, but he doesn’t stand a chance. I will fucking end him.
“So where were you living?” I ask, knowing and hating the answer.
Hannah blows out her breath. “A women’s shelter. My mom was living with Eddie, and I needed to save whatever I could, so…”
Her voice trails off, and she shrugs. “I was there for a few months. Stored my things in a nearby garage. I was living at the shelter when I was arrested.”
Never again. You will never again be without a home.
Even as I make the vow, unease roils through me. I’d sign my house in Oakland over to her right now, but that’s all I can give her. It’s not even close to enough.
She deserves a castle—hell, an island. Not an old, eight-hundred-square-foot bungalow that needs complete electrical rewiring and a new roof.
“Anyway, I’ll get my stuff back as soon as this is all over.” As if sensing my darkening mood, Hannah kisses my cheek. “I already have some ideas for new fragrances I want to try.”
I force my grip on her to relax. “What other supplies do you have?”
“Pots, scales, oils, thermometers, molds.” Amusement gleams in her eyes as she takes a bite of her muffin. “It’s like a witch’s cabinet.”
“I knew you were a secret witch.” I rub my hand down the side of her neck.
She takes my wrist and glides her fingers over my palm, her forehead creasing. “I love the feel of your hands, but your skin is so cracked you’re going to start bleeding soon. Hold on.”
She scrambles off my lap, digs around in her backpack, and returns with a plastic bottle half-filled with thick white lotion.
“This is my orange-almond cream.” She settles back in my lap and takes my hand, squeezing a quarter-sized drop of the cream onto my palm. “Almond, coconut, and wild orange oil, plus cocoa butter for added moisturizing.”
“Sounds like something I could eat.”
“It’ll help with all your rough patches.”
The stuff smells amazing, but I start to draw my hand back. “I don’t need moisturizing cream.”
“Yeah, you do, tough guy.” She shoots me an amused look and massages the cream into my palm. “You should take care of all parts of yourself, including your skin. If your skin gets too dry, it can cause itching and inflammation. It can even lead to eczema, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
She’s so adorably intent on rubbing the cream into every part of my hand, including between my fingers and around my knuckles, that I don’t have the heart to stop her—even if the stuff does make me smell like a girl.
It feels pretty good, though. And her slow, gentle stroking heats my blood.
“There.” She pats my hand and puts the cream on the table. “Let it soak in. I promise, your hands will feel much better.”
“Thanks.” I wrap a lock of her damp hair around my finger. “You never told me your idea for all your brews and potions.”
“Oh.” Faint color rises to her cheeks. “I was thinking about selling my products. My niche would be small-batch bath and body products with all-natural ingredients. Handmade, organic soaps, lotions, creams. I could open an online shop and start with just a few soaps to learn the business, then expand the line as sales grow.”
She holds up her hand when I start to speak.
“Before you start blustering again,” she says, “I didn’t really mean that it’s a stupid idea. My recipes and products are good, and I know they work. But there are a million soap and lotion companies out there, and some have massive amounts of corporate money behind them. I don’t even know where to begin against that kind of competition.”
