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“I am sorry about your gown.”
“Nothing a little magic won’t fix,” Willow replied with a chuckle. “As long as I don’t accidentally turn the whole dress green. And how do we know the Twihardsdidn’ttamper with the booze? While we were… ehem. You know. Otherwise engaged.”
He blushed a little at that which must have been a very difficult thing to do with nothing to pump the blood through his veins.
“It was a lovely thing,” he said stoically. “I want you to know I’d never felt such joy in life or after. And if something were to happen to me…”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Montgomery sighed, standing from his seat, and pulled her up into his arms, kissing the crown of her head. She’d never felt more safe. Imagine. A man half living would be the one to protect her.
“Willow,” he continued, cupping her face to look her in the eyes. “Whatever it is I’m made of, it’s not meant to last. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. Gladys could be a complete quack. We should get a second opinion.”
“I can feel it,” he countered. “Can we just make the most of the time we do have?”
He kissed her then, soft, warm lips caressing hers. Confident hands curling around her back, making her pulse fly. And she had a distant thought—how could he be so warm? His body, his skin, his breath… well, it all felt very much like touching a living man. An elegant, solid man with a little scruff on his jaw. The scruff wasn’t there last night.
She was just luxuriating in the kiss when a jingle came from the front door, announcing a customer had entered the shop.
She hazily let it register that she’d forgotten to lock it for the night and blinked when Montgomery pulled away, giving her a quick peck on the lips before jerking his head in the direction of the door.
Loath to tear herself away from him, she walked toward the front of the shop to inform the customer they were closed and to please leave so she could continue making out with her recently alive boyfriend. That last part she’d keep to herself.
But then, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who’d just entered.
Talon Bickford.
Still in the same emo uniform, she mused, noting the black clothes, black coat, black expression. It was those sunken cheeks that did it for her. If he wasn’t such a sinister creature, he’d arouse a tortured, Edward Scissorhands sort of compassion for anyone who saw the sallow look in his eyes.
Willow crossed her arms and gave him a hard look. He didn’t scare her one bit or invoke compassion for that matter.
But Montgomery, having only second-hand knowledge, and a building ire toward the man for startling Willow, was not so passive in his greeting.
He charged toward him, fists at his sides, growling like a bear. Never mind that Talon was likely a wielder of dark magic and could take anyone out, let alone a hundred- and forty-year-old tin man without a heart.
“Why are you here, and you better make it quick,” Montgomery snarled.
Talon tossed a dismissive glance at Montgomery before sliding his eyes onto Willow.
“I warned you, didn’t I? And yet you don’t heed my words.”
“Can you be any less cryptic?” Willow snapped. “We’re not living in a Tim Burton movie.”
“I told you to stay away.”
“Stay away from what, exactly?” She half-laughed. “The water? Too many carbs? Screen time?”
“The Daughters of the Twilight Veil came here last night invited. You must never invite dark forces into your edifice. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
“You know, this would have been great information to have if I had met you before. Oh wait. We did meet. When you were too busy channeling Vincent Price to give me details.”
“Is that all you came to say?” Montgomery snarled. “Because we already know your mother is bad news.”
Talon snickered. “Where did you find this guy? Did he come with the building?”
“Something like that,” Willow said. “Now please get on with whatever you have to say or leave.”
