45 Birdie #3
“Yeah, well most historians also like to know the name of the person offering the facts,” I counter. “You could have started there.”
He instantly brightens.
Oh no. Bad Birdie!
I just gave him an excuse to get closer again. He practically lunges for me in his eagerness to hold out his hand. “Daniel,” he blurts. “That’s the name of me.”
I look down at his outstretched hand. My gaze follows the line of his forearm, tracing the gothic typeset lettering of his faded tattoo. Memento mori. If I remember my rusty Latin, it means “remember you will die.”
Not comforting, Daniel.
Steeling myself for more contact, I dare to take his hand and give it a quick shake. “Got a last name there, Daniel?”
“Black.”
Next to me, the cat growls. My thoughts exactly. Daniel Black? Such a stupid fake name. It doesn’t fit him at all. But I’ll play along. “So what can I do for you, Daniel Black? I get the feeling you’re not a customer.”
Heaving a sigh, his shoulders deflate a little as he glances around the shop. “I’m sorry. This is all—do you think we could maybe just start over?”
“Best idea you’ve had yet,” I deadpan.
Muttering something under his breath, he lets out a frustrated groan and shakes out his arms. Then he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck.
Holding my gaze, his brown eyes are piercing in their intensity.
“Birdie Rhodes, I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Merely standing in your presence is making me nervous.
Look, my palms are sweating. Is that normal?
” He holds them out, as if to show me. “And my chest feels tight,” he adds, rubbing his sternum.
“Such an odd feeling . . . so wholly unexpected.”
Make note of your exits, Birdie. Remember, the closest one may be behind you.
“Okay . . .”
“I came in here thinking I could charm you with words,” he quickly goes on.
“But now I find there are no words. Not to describe your beauty nor to convey what I feel when I so much as look at you. So, I talked about lapis. I crowded you, and made you uncomfortable, and upset your cat, and no words can now express how sorry I am. My sweetest Birdie, can you ever forgive me?”
Stupid heart fluttering, I fight back my smile. “Daniel . . . you’re doing it again.”
He looks aghast. “I am?”
“Yeah, only now you’re just crowding me with a flood of words instead of your big rugby body.”
“Fuck.”
“I don’t know why you felt like you needed to come in here and woo me today, but you’re coming on way too intense.
Like, there’s flirting.” I hover a hand around my middle.
You know, for scale reference. “There’s intense flirting.
” I raise that hand to shoulder height. “Then there’s you. ” I shoot the hand over my head.
His pretty eyes widen with alarm. “And what am I?”
“Well, in my head I’ve already nicknamed you Stranger Danger.”
He groans again, crossing his arms. “Oh, this is a disaster.”
“Little bit,” I can’t help but tease.
Okay, but why is this actually charming?
Creepy gem guy was a hard no. But anxious, sweaty, doesn’t-know-what-to-do-with-his-hands guy?
Damn it, I’m kind of into this. “You know you can always start with a simple ‘Hi, how are you?’ That’s, like, a tried-and-true classic. Almost never gets you into trouble.”
He nods. “Right. Yeah. Can I try that?”
“Oooh, I don’t think so. We passed that exit about three minutes ago. Now we’re just circling somewhere between Regret Road and Awkward Alley.”
His brow furrows again. “These are car puns, yes? Vehicular humor?”
I blink twice. “For the love of god, Daniel, is there something I can actually do for you?”
At this, he brightens. “Yes! I mean to say there’s something I intend to do for you.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that.”
He gestures around at the store. “Well, obviously, I’m here to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“Selling soaps, teas, and celestial sundries.”
My heart drops as his smile widens. “Are you serious?”
“Did Jasper not tell you? I work here now. Today’s my first day too.”
I glance to the cat, taking in his mirrored look of surprise. Stifling a groan, I turn back to this quirky, handsome stranger. “Look, I really hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but Jasper Prescott died. I don’t know what deal you made with him before but . . .”
Daniel just chuckles. “Right, of course,” he calls out, loud enough for the ladies at the tea table to hear.
“Jasper Prescott is dead as a doornail. Very sad indeed.” But then he’s leaning in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“It’s okay, sweetest Birdie. The great secret is safe with me.
I know our dearly departed is in the back room right now. ”
Wait, if this guy was in the coven, surely Jasper would have freaking mentioned it, right? I thought only the coven knows he’s still alive. I fumble to cover my surprise. “I—don’t know what you mean—”
“Come,” Daniel says, wrapping his long fingers around my arm. “I believe you’ll find he’s sitting at the computer watching reruns of The Sopranos.”
Well . . . shit.