My hand reached out against my will, hovering over a package of chocolate chip cookies still warm from the store oven.
“They taste even better if you dunk them in milk.”
The deep voice came from so far above me that I nearly got a crick in my neck looking up. And up. And up.
Holy crap, he had to be at least six and a half feet tall. His skin was medium brown, and his golden-brown eyes held a gentleness that didn’t quite match his massive frame.
Recognition hit me like a tidal wave. He was one of the nine men who’d been watching me at the restaurant.
“You.” I took a step back, nearly colliding with an endcap of fruitcakes. “You were at Sinclair’s with your friends last night.”
He nodded, one dark curl falling out of place across his forehead. The slight movement was careful, as though he was afraid of startling me.
“With eight friends. At the table that vanished.” I narrowed my eyes. “The table that literally disappeared after my date called me an ice demon. You paid the bill.”
His expression remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes. “We left through the back.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, low enough that I had to lean in to hear. “We figured you had enough to deal with.”
That was the understatement of the century. I gripped my shopping cart to steady myself, careful to keep my hands on the plastic. “So you just happened to be grocery shopping at thesame store as me?” I gestured at his empty hands. “Without a cart or basket.”
His massive shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Time is getting short. The signs are becoming more obvious.”
Was that supposed to make sense? “What signs?”
“The cold following you. The frost at your fingertips.” He glanced meaningfully at the cookies I’d been drawn to. “The way you’re pulled toward things you tell yourself you don’t like.”
Ice slid down my spine. “Excuse me?”
“His magic is fading.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. “The clock’s already ticking. Soon it will be gone, and everything will be ruined.”
The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, sending harsh shadows skittering across the bakery display. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, icy pinpricks that didn’t feel like normal perspiration at all, more like frost forming.
My body was betraying me in ways I couldn’t explain, couldn’t control, couldn’t rationalize with my carefully constructed worldview. I wiped my palms against my jeans, leaving damp smears that glinted with something that looked like tiny crystals before they melted away.
“Who are you talking about? What magic?” My voice came out higher and slightly panicked. Did this guy know what was happening to me?
He looked pained for a moment and swallowed hard. His eyes held mine, urgent and intense. “Jingle all the way.”
I backed away. “I don’t know what kind of Christmas cult you’re part of, but I’m not interested.”
Spinning my cart around, I fled so fast I nearly flattened an older man examining an angel food cake. I didn’t stop until I reached the self-checkout, abandoning half my groceries and only scanning the essentials.
The bakery section cookies had somehow made it into my cart, and I tried not to hyperventilate. My mouth watered, and my fingers itched to rip into them right then and there.
Maybe being twenty-seven came with its own secrethormone glitch no one talked about.Was there a quarter-life perimenopause crisis where hormones went haywire? There had to be. Instead of hot flashes, I was getting cold flashes.
I grabbed my bags and power-walked to the parking lot without looking back. The giant with the cryptic warnings could keep his cult recruitment speech and his cookie recommendations to himself.
I nearly had a heart attack as I opened the back door of my car and found the package of cookies sitting on the seat.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Setting my bags on the floorboard, I used my foot to move the possessed cookies out of my car. There was no way I was touching them with my bare hands.
For good measure, I kicked them behind the rear wheel before sliding into the driver’s seat. I cranked the engine and backed up, cringing as I ran over the cookies. I hated wasting perfectly good food, but I was pretty certain something nefarious was going on.
I peeled out of the parking lot like a getaway driver, tires squealing in protest as I pressed the accelerator harder than necessary. My knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, and I kept checking the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see the man running after my car with his cryptic warnings and magical cookies.
The shopping center shrank behind me, and I let out a breath, a visible puff that crystallized in the air.
