He squinted. “You said that already.”
“GD,” I swore under my breath.
“GD?”
“Goddammit.”
He arched a brow.
“There was a no-swearing rule in my house,” I explained, thoroughly embarrassed. “It’s just an old habit.”
“Ah.
“And I have a perfectly logical reason for being here.”
“Me too,” he said. “I know the magic store’s owners, and they let me do tricks for customers. Sometimes I perform outside the market entrance, next to Rachel the Piggy Bank.”
Now I had to look out for Daniel whenever I wanted to come down here to buy a book? Terrific.
“I’m good with misdirection.”
“Excuse me?”
“In my street magic. Misdirection,” he repeated, holding out a hand and showing me his open palm. “You’re looking here, which is why you don’t see me taking this.” He held up a ring of keys on one finger.
Myhouse keys.
“Hey!” I glanced down at my purse. The front pocket gaped open. “How...?”
“Misdirection,” he said with a satisfied smile, offering me my keys back, which I carefully took, not touching his finger.
“Are you a pickpocket or a magician?” I asked.
“A skill is a skill,” he said, mouth quirking up on one side. “I like to keep my options open.”
I laughed nervously.
“Anyway, I need to practice with bigger groups. That’s why I like performing outside the market. My mom would kill me if she knew, so let’s keep that our little secret,” he said before rethinking his words. “Or, I guess, add it to our ongoing list of secrets.”
We looked at each other for a moment, and the air seemed to crackle between us. My chest grew hot. Surely he wouldn’t bring up what happened between us here, in public.
I dropped my keys back into my purse and tried to think of a way to escape without looking like a coward. Maybe I could say I was sick. Not a total lie. I surefeltsick at the moment.
“You’re shedding,” Daniel said.
Was this another misdirection? I quickly glanced down at the black slacks I had to wear for work and was startled to feel Daniel’s fingers on my hair. His touch sent tingles across my scalp. Then his hand moved back, and he showed me what he’d captured on his palm. “You lost a petal.”
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed, touching the lily in my hair.
He tilted his hand, and the petal floated to the floor, only to be trampled by a passing blind man and his guide dog.
After an awkward moment, Daniel tapped the glass of the machine. “So, you’re in the market for a fortune, are you? Honestly, this guy kind of sucks and is bordering on offensive. Definitely an insult to actual religious gurus. If you want a penny fortune, the Elvis machine inside is way better. Come on. They’ll let us in before they close.”
He herded me inside the store before I could think of a good excuse to turn him down. The owner was behind the counter, counting bills inside his register till while the last remaining customers dawdled—a father and his young son, who couldn’t decide which silly gag to buy.
“We’ll only be a second,” Daniel called out to the owner as he jogged across the floor toward the Elvis fortune-teller machine. “I’ve got two quarters, but it takes three.”
“I thought you said it was a penny?”
