“It seems more logical than your plan to put a bullet in their brains.” I take another bite of my eggs. “Probably less likely to end up in prison that way too.” I don’t elaborate that both ideas could get us killed but I figure he already knows that.
He lets out a rough chuckle, shaking his head like he has accepted the inevitable recklessness of my plan. He finishes offhis toast and washes it down with his coffee, leaning back, one arm slung over the couch behind him.
“Yeah, well,” he drawls, “you let me know when logic stops workin’ and we’ll go with my version.” He pauses. “Either way? They don’t walk away from this.”
“Or we don’t,” I say quietly, looking down at my half-eaten plate of food. My appetite is not what it normally is. I stand up and take his plate. “More coffee?”
He hesitates, a soft emotion I can’t explain or name flickers in his expression. But as quickly as it appears, it's gone again. “Nah, I’m good, Wildflower.”
I roll my eyes at the nickname and take the tray back upstairs. I wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen then head back down. I stop halfway when I see him walking around the store like he’s looking for something.
“What are you doing?”
“Inspectin’. Lookin’ for blind spots. Security measures." His tone is casual, like it’s something he’s done a thousand times. “Don’t you know to have cameras in here?”
“Well I can’t really add them now, can I? It was one of the reasons he said they wanted to use my store,” I say, walking over to the tea kettles. “Pretty sure they’d take offense to me suddenly increasing security.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes, pausing by the front door. He looks over the deadbolt, checks the locking mechanism, and tests the give of the doorknob. “You ever consider an alarm system?”
“Look around, Griffin. We barely had a crime rate before these goons showed up. Also, how much do you think a new age store really brings in around here?” I continue to set up for the day. It’s earlier than I normally open. “I’m lucky they didn’t try to run me out of town when I first opened.”
He snorts at that, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His storm-gray eyes assess the shop, taking in the clutter of crystals and herbs, and he seems to get it. This isn’t exactly your high-risk location, until now.
“Guess you don’t get many thieves tryin’ to steal incense and herb jars,” he drawls. Irritation flickers across his face that anyone would target my store for anything other than its witchy charm. “I still think we should install somethin’ quiet. Motion sensors? Maybe a silent alarm?”
“The only changes I’ll make right now are small recording devices hidden in the stockroom inside old stereo equipment. They’ll need to have the same mechanical components so any scanners they use won’t pick them up. Anything else right now is too risky. Besides, after yesterday, I’m pretty sure they don’t intend to cat-burgle their way in. They are perfectly comfortable using the front door.” I catch up on the closing chores I didn’t get to last night.
He concedes begrudgingly, although if it were left up to him, I’m sure he’d have this entire place locked down like an impenetrable fortress. But, he doesn’t push. “You need help with that?” he asks, as he watches me clean up.
“I’ve got it,” I reply. “You should probably get going though. They can't see you here when they inevitably show up.” I don’t want them to think that I brought in a bodyguard or told the police what happened. Either way, he shouldn’t be here when they arrive.
I pick up the bags of trash and head to the stockroom. The second I’m face to face with the door leading to the alley, I can’t move. I stand there, silently staring at it.
He’s at my side before I realize he’s moved, touching my shoulder. “Breathe.”
I am startled by his touch, tensing so fast I jump. My breath releases in a whoosh of air and I set the bags down and head back behind the counter. “I’ll take those out later.”
I barely register it when he goes inside the stockroom. A few moments later, he comes back in, wiping his hands on his jeans. A weight lifts off of me knowing I won’t have to go out there now. He comes back over to where I’m standing.
“I’ll stick around today,” he says. “Out of sight, blendin’ in.” He scans the shop again, looking at one of the bookshelves in the back.
“Blend in?” I scoff. “Have you seen you? What about you, makes you think you can blend in here?” I move to the kettles to pour my morning tea, while shaking my head.
“Yeah, yeah.” The corner of his mouth lifts up in a crooked half smile. He looks down at himself for a second. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve henley with a shoulder holster and jeans. He doesn't exactly scream ‘new age store.’ “Guess I’m not your target clientele, am I?”
“No, not usually.” I move to sit on my stool. “You look like a mix between a cop and a criminal. And either way, the second one of them sees you, they will know you’re not here for a job application.” I pause for a second. “Or the tea.”
“What’s your usual customer then?” He grunts. “Yoga moms and twenty-somethin’s lookin’ for crystals to charge under the full moon?”
“Yeah, actually,” I let out a small laugh, checking him out while he’s turned away. The shirt he’s wearing does nothing to hide the bulk of muscle underneath. His biceps and chest stretch the fabric. I imagine what it would be like to push the bottom hem up with my fingertips. No, stop. Down girl. I need this man out of here before I start to drool or throw myself at him. I don’t know which one would be more humiliating. How am I able to go there after yesterday? Something about him isso far disconnected from that event that I don’t associate the two mentally. I guess that’s a good thing if he plans on sticking around. I pull out my phone and set it down in front of him. “How about if they show up, I’ll text you and then you can watch them from outside?”
“Fine.” His mouth twists into a smirk when he catches me looking at him. “But I’m not goin’ far. Text me the second you see them. Don’t try to be stubborn and handle it alone.” He taps his number into my phone. When he hands it back, there’s no charming smile or lingering brush of fingertips this time. His tone is rough like he’s daring me to argue. “Got it?”
“Yeah.” I send him a text with a winky face emoji. “Got it.”
He lets out a dry laugh when he sees it, shaking his head then pocketing his phone. “You gonna be alright here by yourself?”
“Yeah, like I said last night...” I smile softly, taking a sip of tea. “I’m used to being alone.”
