His eyessparked.
“Oh,flûte. I forgot to do something.” Muriel wiped her hands on a striped kitchen towel. “I’ll be right back.” She walked down the passageway she’d appeared from earlier, then turned and vanished up what I imagined were stairs, since I could hear her thick heels clacking againstcement.
I willed her to come back, but she didn’t. When I turned back, Jarod was circling the island. I tried to reassure myself that since his hands were still in his pockets, he wasn’t planning on strangling me. When he bent at the waist, I backedup.
He inhaled the steam rising from the deflating cookies. “I told you I was a lost cause. Yet you’reback.”
“I just came to return yourmoney.”
His gaze slid to the cookies. “And you stumbled into an apron on your way tome?”
My lips parted, unsure how to interpret his question. It sounded like he was teasingme. . .
He was so close I could no longer smell the sweet aroma lifting from the tray. All I could smell was him. His stare turned so intense I checked my arms poking from the oven mitts to make sure I hadn’t lit up like a string of fairy lights. My skin was blotchy and smeared with flour, but thankfully notshimmering.
When I looked up, my chin bumped into Jarod’s fingers. I was so startled by his touch that I forgot tobreathe.
“You had some flour on your chin,” he said, lowering his hand, rubbing his thumb against his index finger to get rid of the powder, which had transferred from my skin tohis.
I touched my chin, which felt as hot as the baking tray, unsure what to make of his kindly gesture until I recalled his total and utterdisgust.
“Let me—I’ll just go grab . . .” I backed away from him, leaving my sentence aborted. I hurried to the pantry, dug out the yellow bill, then returned to Jarod, and brandished the money. “Here.”
He recoiled as though I were offering him a live snake. “I told you I didn’t want itback.”
“And I told you I couldn’t keepit.”
His mouth thinned. When he didn’t take the money, I laid it on the island beside the tray. There. It was done. I wouldn’t lose another feather, which was ironic considering I stood to lose my entirewings.
I glanced around me, then down at the cookies, realizing all that was left for me to do now was leave. “How’s yourback?”
“Myback?”
“You were bleeding lastnight.”
“Right.My back’s fine. Are you donebaking?”
My throat constricted. Swallowing, I nodded and slid the oven mitts off. I laid them beside the blackened tray and glanced toward the passageway that had swallowedMuriel.
“Can you tell her I said”—I cleared my throat, fixing my gaze to his Adam’s apple—“thankyou?”
“Your voice seems to be workingfine.”
I blinked up athim.
“You should tell heryourself.”
“Oh. Um.Okay.”
I started to turn when he asked, “How well do you playchess?”
“Chess?”
“You know . . . the board game where you have to defeat theking?”
“I know what chess is, Jarod, but I thought you wanted megone.”
He wedged his hands back into his trouser pockets. “I do.Eventually.”
