She nods now, some more tension leaving her body. “I did. I’ve lived here all my life. I’d like to stay here for the rest of it, too.”
“What makes you want to stay?” I ask. “My instinct would be to place you in a city.”
“You don’t know me at all,” she says in a light voice, her shoulders twitching into a shrug. Her words aren’t rude; they’re just matter-of-fact. “So your instinct probably won’t be correct.”
“Tell me, then.” I grin at her. “What makes the holding cell here better than the holding cell anywhere else?”
Her narrowed eyes return, her ponytail flicking as she looks straight ahead instead of at me. But when she speaks again, her cheeks are pink. “Why are you even here?” she says.
“Why do you ask?” I lean closer to her. “Scared I’m going to tell Bart and Mindy what you’ve been doing in your free time?”
“Only if you want me to do the same,” she says coolly. Then she asks, “How did you end up in that holding cell?”
I straighten back up, because she smells more intoxicating than I can deal with. “Nothing nearly so impressive or entertaining as revenge on a cheating ex.”
Her cheeks flush pinker still, and although she’s looking determinedly at the shops around us, I can still see her lips tighten. “If you tell anyone?—”
“Ah, don’t worry so much,” I cut her off, waving my hand. “I won’t tell anyone about the chink in your armor.”
We’re silent for a second, and when she speaks, it’s only reluctantly. “About tomorrow.”
I hum, my gaze wandering to the square around us as I wait for her to continue.
“I shouldn’t have asked for fifty dollars an hour. It was—” She falters but then goes on. “It was presumptuous.”
I lean back further on the bench, which is not at all comfortable. “I told you to ask for more, didn’t I?”
Her head jerks into a little nod. “Yes, but?—”
“Trust me to know what I can and can’t handle,” I cut her off, keeping my voice light. But she needs to understand. I won’t offer what I don’t want to give, and I won’t ask for what I’m not willing to receive.
When she looks at me, I return her steady gaze, raising one brow at her. If she wants to argue or ask me questions, she’ll get around to it.
But she doesn’t—because Bart and Mindy appear on the other side of the square, rounding a corner and coming intoview. Aurora and I both stand, and she looks up at me, one final warning.
“If you say anything about the holding cell?—”
“I won’t,” I insist, tucking my hands comfortably in my pockets. “But you know…” I step closer to her as the memory of the jail plays in my mind—and the memory of the phone conversation I overheard earlier. “No matter how much of an ice queen you look like on the outside, you’re only human,” I breathe in her ear.
“Mind your own business,” she mutters, nudging me with her elbow, and I can’t stop my laugh as I stumble back.
“This is my business,” I say, gesturing around the square with a smile. “You’re my business. For the next two weeks, you are Aurora Marigold, my employee, and I am in charge of making sure your place of work is hospitable and well-run.”
She snorts at this, her eyes on Bart and Mindy as they approach. “I’m not your employee. I’m Denice’s employee. You’re a figurehead holding down the fort.”
“You wound me,” I say, clasping my hands over my heart even as the words burrow uncomfortably beneath my skin. “I may very well make massive improvements at Soul2Soul in the two weeks I’m here. I could revolutionize everything.”
And I swear I see the corners of her lips twitch.
“Besides, you’re helping organize my home, aren’t you? ”
She doesn’t have an answer for this. “So why are you here today?” she says, gesturing at the town square around us with one twirling finger and an arched brow. “Rubik’s cube run away?”
I force my eyes away and grin. “Nah. I just thought I should protect Mindy and Barf—oh, sorry. Bart.” I shoot a mock glare at her. “You’re a bad influence. I can’t think of him as anything else.”
“Blame my sisters,” Aurora says, and the first real smile I’ve seen flits over her lips, faint but unmistakable. She clasps her hands in front of her and stands up straight, smoothing one hand down her already-neat skirt and shirt. “That’s all they call him now. Ever since—well.” She breaks off, her smile fading as Bart and Mindy get closer.
“I like them already,” I say, watching her—the way she prepares herself, adjusting her posture, replacing her dying smile with something more blank and businesslike. She changes on a dime until most of her personality has disappeared.
