As much as I didn’t appreciate Andrew laughing at me whileI slowly froze to death, there was no denying how genuinely pleasing the sound was. But it didn’t have the effect he wanted, as I refused to crack a smile.
“May I please use your phone?” I asked more politely than I felt.
“Only if you tell me what you’re supposed to be.” He gestured up and down my body, pausing on my Birkenstocks.
I bristled and pointed at my lopsided black and white wig. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t recognize Cruella de Vil?”
“I mean... I guess?” He cocked his head and pursed his lips. “But the shoes are throwing me off. You look more like high school art teacher Cruella. Or food co-op Cruella.”
I glared at him.
“Bluegrass fan Cruella.”
“Oh,comeon. You saw me in the full costume, with the red lipstick and fur coat and heels. I know you did.”
“You’re right.” Andrew took a step closer, so that he was completely hidden in the shadow from the building. “I did.”
I tried to ignore the intensity in his glare as goose bumps skittered along my skin. “And?”
He dragged his eyes down my body again and I was happy that my arms were crossed, so he couldn’t see my nipples poking through the thin fabric.
“And I think Roger Radcliffe would’ve happily handed over those puppies if you’d been the one asking for them.”
I made a disgusted noise and reached out to push him away, but he caught my wrist. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I donotcondone puppy coats, I promise.”
Andrew didn’t let go and his white-hot hand made me forget the chill in the air. My breath came in shallow puffs, the cloudsaround my face betraying any sense of calm that I was trying to project.
Here it was again. My angry, mortifying, clawing hunger for Andrew Gibson, boiling inside of me, urging me to do something I’d regret, like rising up on my tiptoes to kiss his stupid, beautiful mouth. There was no alcohol to blame for it this time, but if I was honest with myself I’d admit that wanting Andrew didn’t require intoxication.
“You don’t need my phone,” he said.
I struggled out of the quicksand of my desire for him to try to make sense of what he meant. “So youwon’tlet me borrow it?”
He shook his head and finally let go of me. “Wait here. Unless you want to come and join my party for a few minutes.”
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head so vigorously that my wig shifted even more. Zadie could be in there and I was in no mood to see her. “But what are you doing? I don’t understand—”
He held his finger up at me, then walked back toward his side of the building without another word.
I paced in circles, rubbing my now freezing bare arms. How long had I been out here? Five minutes? Two hours? I’d lost all sense of time.
The guys clustered around the fire hooted at Andrew as he walked past and I shrank back into the shadows. I heard a noise from the far end of the building and spotted Myrtle in loaf position watching me. She looked relaxed, but I knew how quickly she could spirit away.
“You’vegotto be cold, Myrtle. Why do you insist on being an outside cat?”
The local rescue had tried to trap her tons of times over the years, but she always managed to grab the food without gettingcaught. Even if they could snag her I wasn’t sure she’d be content being relegated to house or barn cat status. She alerted to something beyond me, then took off right as I realized that Andrew was headed back.
“Here,” he said, handing me a black hoodie. “You’re freezing.”
I was too cold to refuse it and slipped it on. Even though it looked new I could swear I caught a whiff of his campfire scent as I pulled my head through. It was one of those perfect oversized sweatshirts, fleecy soft inside. I glanced down at the front and saw his logo on the chest.
“You got merch. Looks great. I’ll buy this one from you.”
Andrew shook his head. “That’s the prototype. It’s mine, but you can borrow it for tonight. And here’s this.”
He reached into his pocket and held out a key on a brass bulldog key chain.
“How did you...”
