The Darkest Midnight. R. A. Finley

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СКАЧАТЬ expensive gift. Of course he couldn’t have happened upon something more reasonably priced. Or something that didn’t require a lot of fuss. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. Does it really need the box?”

      She looked at him as if he were a simpleton. Spoke as if he were one, too, although kindly. “It’s pretty fragile, so it would need some sort of box, yes.” She kept her hand near it on the counter as if she feared he would snatch it up and cram it into a pocket. “Will you be in the area later? I could pack it up, even gift-wrap it if you’d like, and have it here for you.”

      He pulled out his billfold. Her eyes widened with something like surprise when he laid several big bills on the counter. Well, it was a lot of cash to be carrying. But credit cards could be trouble. None of the ones he had with him were in his name, but that didn’t mean that someone with the right skills—and the right organization behind them—couldn’t trace them to him eventually. He couldn’t risk it.

      He cleared his throat, surreptitiously wiped a damp palm on his coat. “That’d be perfect. Thank you.”

      “No problem.” She set his change and receipt on the counter. “What name can I put on it? In case I’m not here.”

      Was that a hint of suspicion he detected? He pocketed the items, decided he was being paranoid.

      “Connor Michaels,” he told her. If he felt uncomfortable about the lie, he ignored it. “Thanks, again, for your help. I’ll—well. I’ll see you later, won’t I?”

      “Yes. See you later.” She smiled, drawing his attention to her lips. He knew them intimately. And yet her, hardly at all.

      He couldn’t tell if she was being polite or if she looked forward to their next encounter. He couldn’t tell if he’d made any impact (other than financial) on her at all.

      She used to be easier to read.

      Or was he letting his concerns, his feelings cloud his view?

      Aware that he lingered overlong, he forced a smile and made his way to the door.

      It took him past Abby, in discussion with the customer by a table-top display of holiday items. Snow globes, stockings large enough for a full-grown ogre, ornate peppermint striped candles, and the like. She studied him far too intently.

      He made a small nod in passing—his best attempt at appearing unexceptionable. Although he probably had “Big Spender” suspended above his head after that foolishness with the butterfly.

      For which he would have to come back later. It was both a problem and a welcome opportunity: Another chance to interact with Thia. He stepped out of the store and onto the main, retail-centric street.

      What to do next?

      Given its reported population, Granite Springs boasted an astonishing number of coffee shops, including the one inside Eclectica. But he was so keyed up already, caffeine would be a mistake.

      After so many weeks, to have spoken with her, to have stood so close—and then that one, jolting contact. She had looked at him directly, and he, her. And she hadn’t once appeared to suspect that, behind the lenses of his glasses, he had worn colored contacts.

      Something pinged on the edges of his awareness. Something decidedly unfriendly. He scanned the area, saw nothing to account for it other than both Thia and her empathic friend watching him through the front window.

      Minor and transient. He shrugged it off and began his walk to the hotel. Might as well take care of another bit of business sooner rather than later.

      CHAPTER 2

      Eclectica, Granite Springs

      18 December

      With the man no longer in view outside, Thia returned her attention to his purchase. It really was a lovely piece, with the body made of finely wrought silver and more holding the amazingly thin glass segments of its patterned wings. Carefully, she removed the price.

      “Who was that?” Abby asked as she brought a customer up to the counter. Her tone was casual, but Thia had come to know her well enough to know there was more to the question than that.

      “Someone new to town,” she replied as they smoothly exchanged places behind the register. “Connor Michaels. He bought a gift for a friend.”

      “Oh, that’s gorgeous,” the customer said, eyeing the butterfly. Thia held it out for her to examine. “So delicate. And unusual.”

      “Isn’t it?” Abby agreed and began to ring up the woman’s items. “Made locally. The artist has been working in stained glass for years, but only recently shifted from panels to standing figures. This is our last butterfly, but there are a few other examples in the case over there if you’d like to see.”

      “Some other time,” the woman said with a longing glance at The Tower. “I’m supposed to meet my partner at her work to sort out our gift lists. This should take care of a good bit of what’s left on them. I hope.” She indicated the three snow globes she’d selected. “There are boxes for them, right? They need to be shipped.”

      Before either Thia or Abby could answer, Lynette arrived with the butterfly’s box. She quickly spotted the globes. “I’ll get them for you,” she volunteered, and left again.

      Thia moved to an adjacent counter to work, only half-listening as Abby and her customer chatted. The butterfly’s box was nice, she thought, but very basic…and it was a gift. An expensive one. She went over to the for-purchase papers. If memory served, there was one that—

      There. She pulled out a sheet of soft cream patterned with richly colored butterflies and flowers. On another whim, she grabbed a spool of satin ribbon.

      Back at the counter, she laid it out, began sizing it to the box.

      “Mr. Michaels bought all that, too?” Abby had finished her transaction.

      “No. But it goes so well.” She took up a pair of scissors, sliced. “Plus it’s an expensive item, and since he’s a first time customer, we might as well be nice.”

      “Thia.”

      She stopped mid-tape, found Abby watching her with concern. Probably because Thia’s cheeks were red. “What?”

      “Did you feel it?”

      Impossibly, she felt her blush increase. She must look like a tomato. “Attraction?”

      Abby’s violet eyes widened. “Goodness, no—wait. Are you saying you—”

      “What feeling did you mean, then?” Thia put in quickly. Cleared her throat. “What did I miss?”

      “Power. He was cloaking it, but it leaked through a few times. And there was something else, something…foreign.” Abby frowned, shook her head. “You were attracted to him?”

      “He had power?” Thia thought back, tried to feel now what she hadn’t noticed in the moment. Tried not to feel discouraged when she couldn’t.

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