“Again,” Hartgrave yelled from behind the open hood.
Still, he’d just traveled twenty-five miles in seconds, so why couldn’t he reanimate expired car parts? She had a vivid image of him lifting both arms skyward and funneling lightning directly to the battery, cackling in grand mad-scientist fashion.
She turned the key a second time. The engine flared to life, sputtered and stopped.
“Verdammt noch mal!Again!”
This time, it took. He jumped into the passenger seat and she hit the accelerator.
“Thank you,” she said, realizing she’d forgotten that part.
“Don’t thank me yet.” He made a half-hearted effort to brush the snow off his coat. “I’ve no idea how long this will hold.”
“No, I mean—thank you for coming. It was very good of you.”
He said nothing. She took a deep breath—explaining what she’d meant post-kiss would need to be done without pauses—but at the first syllable, her car shuddered. The warning lights all blinked and the engine stalled out.
She just managed to force the vehicle over to the shoulder, and it came to a gasping halt not far from the exit for U.S. 18 east.
“Half a mile. Brilliant.” Hartgrave slumped further into the seat. “I can’t do this fifty more times.”
“You recharged the battery a small amount?”
He nodded. “It would need to be recharged entirely to have any hope of getting back to Ashburn, and I can’t do it, I’d have to—”
He stopped. She waited for him to go on, then gave him a tentative prod. “You’d have to what?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed the heels of his hands over his closed eyes. “I can’t, all right? If the belt were still attached to the car, I could repair it, but as it is—we’re stuck.”
“But—but you can goanywhere. You could take us both home right now, couldn’t you? Well, maybe not me,” she amended. Sadly. “But you could go and ask Bernie Ballantine to come get me—he would, he’s a sweetheart.”
“No.”
“Heis—”
“No, I mean—I can’t go,” Hartgrave said.
“What? Why?”
“In the name of all that’s holy, stop asking questions!”
She stared at him, bewildered. Well, perfect segue: “That’s why I had to stop kissing you.”
His eyes went wide. She pressed on at top speed.
“I really enjoyed it but I don’t know you, and that’s what I was trying to say, but it came out missing a few things, pretty much everything except the verbs, and I’d love to get to know you better so Icouldkiss you because that was about ten times better than every previous kiss I’ve had put together, and I can’t stop thinking about you, but I realize you’re not wild about—”
“Daggett!” He said it like a plea.
“Right. Stopping now.”
He rubbed his hands together to warm them, or possibly to buy himself some time. She waited in a frenzy of anticipation, expecting nothing good but hoping,hopinghe would see a way for their competing needs to not be in conflict.
“I won’t talk about my past. Don’t try to—to entice me,” he said. He’d started this speech as hard and unmovable as a boulder, but then he looked up at her and his voice broke.
A hollow ache spread from her chest in just the way it had when he’d told her she would never do magic. So this too was impossible. She searched for something to say and came up with, “Bloody buggering hell.”
He worked his mouth open, abruptly shut it, then opened it again. A choked noise came out.
