Chapter 22 #2
Luna couldn’t bear to look at him. She couldn’t look at Ward or Bryony either.
So she stared down into the mug of something which Bryony had pushed toward her.
Something not alcohol-free. Suddenly, she picked it up with both hands and took several swallows.
It was foul, but it went down, splashing into her gut to churn along with the hard cider from Ward’s glass.
She had a sinking suspicion she was going to regret oh, so many things about tonight!
Abruptly, Mr. Grimm leaned toward her. His mouth dropped close to her ear, and she caught a little shivering breath and half-turned to him.
Her nose bumped his, and she faced forward again quickly.
“What was that?” she stammered, because though he’d spoken, she hadn’t heard what he said over the throbbing of her heart.
“I thought you were going to stay and clean the shop,” he spoke again, his voice low, a little husky.
Luna gulped. What a drat-blasted liar he must think her! She’d told him she wasn’t seeing Ward tonight, and here she was, proving the falsehood of her own words, all while shirking her responsibilities. The burning spirits swam in her gut.
“I, um, finished early,” she said, turning toward him again.
He wasn’t as close anymore, but his head was still inclined toward her, his face lit-up by the candle’s glow, and .
. . oh Green Mother. He was so fresh and clean-shaven and groomed, and she was still such a bedraggled mess, despite the stolen hair tonic.
She could feel every single wrinkle in her blouse and skirt, in her stockings, and she’d left her wet slip somewhere out in Garden.
Somehow it felt not-quite-decent to be out in public without it, despite how her blouse was buttoned all the way to the throat.
Mr. Grimm leaned in to her again, his nose bumping against her ear before he withdrew slightly. “I’m glad,” he said, his voice just audible over the band’s wild rhythms.
“You are?” Luna blinked up at him. Their faces were no more than a few inches apart, and gods, but was it hot in here? She could feel perspiration forming on her upper lip.
“Yes,” he answered. Candlelight flickered in the depths of his sad blue eyes as he peered at her from beneath his lowered brow.
“I didn’t like to think of you working away all evening.
Alone.” He swallowed and nodded, as though convincing himself.
“It’s good to see you out. Having a nice time.
You . . . you are having a nice time, aren’t you? ”
“Oh, sure.” Luna picked up her drink from Bryony again. “Just peachy.”
She took another large swig.
The music shifted again, resolving one song and blending seamlessly into the familiar strains of “Don’t Care Tonight.
” Bryony responded at once, sitting up a little straighter and slapping her palms to the tabletop.
“This song is the bee’s knees!” she declared and took hold of Mr. Grimm’s hand, shimmying her way out of the booth and dragging him with her.
“Come on, Grimmsy! Take a gulp of that beer, then you’ve got some dancing to do! ”
Mr. Grimm flashed a glance Luna’s way. Obedient to his date’s injunction, however, he took a large swig from his glass.
Which surprised Luna. She couldn’t say why, but all this time she’d gotten the distinct impression that Mr. Grimm was a teetotaler.
Not that it mattered or was any of her business, but .
. . She frowned, a little seed of worry planted among the other roiling feelings in her gut.
“What do you say?” Ward leaned in, speaking into her ear. For some reason it failed to ignite little prickling sparks in her flesh the way Mr. Grimm’s voice had. It was just kind of annoying. Maybe the timber of his voice simply wasn’t quite the right resonance or something.
Luna pushed another enormous smile into place. “Oh, yes,” she said, turning that smile up to Ward. “Let’s dance.” Out on the dance floor, everything would be better. To be moving, to be held in Ward’s arms, to feel his support. It had to be an improvement over this nasty little booth in any case.
Only once she got there, and Ward slipped his arm around her waist, Luna felt five times sicker than before.
Gods, what was in that drink of Bryony’s?
She should have stuck to her soft cider.
When Ward propelled her into a little twirl, she felt positively nauseated and nearly fell against him on the return spin.
“Whoa there, you all right?” Ward asked.
“Yes, just . . . a little dizzy,” Luna said. “Maybe no more twirling until after supper.”
“Fine by me,” he answered, and promptly pulled her closer.
Luna found her head pressed up against his shoulder and turned her chin sideways to keep it from bumping into a buckle strap of his uniform.
She wasn’t certain this was an improvement, but Ward seemed happy enough, and she supposed that was fine then. He turned her in time to the music.
And Luna found herself looking directly at Bryony and Mr. Grimm.
Bryony gave everything she had to her dance, as she always did.
Her body moved sensually to the lively beat, every part of her, from head to toe, contriving to emphasize her femininity and sultry allure.
Mr. Grimm wasn’t dancing so much as simply trying to stay out of her way while simultaneously holding her hand.
His gaze kept bouncing from her undulating figure to the ceiling and back again.
Luna watched Bryony sashay around behind him, trailing her fingers along the line of his shoulders.
Then she ran both hands down his spine, and Mr. Grimm’s eyes widened.
Luna turned her face forward, staring hard at the front of Ward’s uniform.
“Hey,” Ward said, ducking his chin in an effort to catch her eye. “You keep looking over at your boss. Does it make you nervous, having him here?”
“Oh, no.” Luna shook her head hastily.
“He’s not one of those controlling types, is he?”
“Mr. Grimm? Controlling?” Luna laughed, her gaze quite fixed on the brass button directly in her line of view. “Mother save me, no. He’s a very kind employer. Very generous.”
Ward’s eyebrow tipped. “So what’s the problem, then?”
“It’s just, you know. Odd. Having him here.”
She glanced over at him and Bryony again.
Bryony was dancing up against her date, jiggling splendidly.
She was determined to get a reaction out of him and, judging by the cat-with-the-cream smile on her lips, pleased with her results.
Mr. Grimm seemed to be making a valiant effort to hold onto his gentlemanliness, but Bryony was no doubt wearing him down.
She would get what she wanted in the end, and then . . .
“Hey.” Ward’s voice came a little sharply. “Don’t forget, I’m your date tonight.”
Luna startled a little, before turning another enormous, beaming smile up at him. “Oh, are you now?” she said, dredging up a flirtatious tone from somewhere in the depths of her being. “And here I thought you were the wardsman come to drag me away to the hoosegow.”
Ward laughed, his green eyes shining, his dimples dimpling. “If I ever did, you’d be the cutest little prisoner we ever had in lockup. All the boys’d treat me like a king for years to come!”
“Is that meant to be a compliment?”
“It was an attempt at one, yes. Poor taste?”
“Extremely. I shall have to think of some punishment for you now.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, if I’m to be punished anyway . . .”
He ducked his head forward then and kissed her. Soundly. On the lips.
Luna froze.
Her eyes seemed to close of their own accord, and her senses were suddenly extremely full of jazz music, of the final, manic strains of “Don’t Care Tonight.
” And maybe she didn’t care? Maybe . . .
maybe this was how her first kiss was always meant to happen?
Gods knew she was such a backwards creature, with all her auntie-influences.
She was never going to make it happen on her own.
The only way she was ever going to get kissed was if a man took the initiative, and really, who could fault Ward for having initiative?
It was a very manly quality. And he was a very manly man.
And was it possible she was thinking rather too much and not actually experiencing the experience?
Ward pulled away, his eyes half-lidded, and grinned down at her. Luna gaped, lashes blinking fast. “Ward!” she gasped, placing a hand on her heart and taking a step back. Oh gods. Why did she have to be so keenly aware of Bryony’s gold dress and red hair and partner just out of the tail of her eye?
“What?” Ward dimpled handsomely. “Did I misread the moment? Or do you prefer to do your kissing someplace more private?” He slipped his hand around her waist, drawing her back toward him so that she stumbled a half-step. “Because I can think of a few private places I’d like to take you right now.”
Luna planted her hands on his chest. Was he about to kiss her again? Before that first kiss had even cooled on her lips? Luna turned her head swiftly to the side, her eyes widening, and . . .
And met Mr. Grimm’s gaze.
Across the dance floor.
He was looking at her. Standing stock still, even as Bryony went on jiggling and shimmying around him. His lips were parted, his jaw slack, like he’d just received a terrible shock.
The jazzy music played on in manic frenzy, but it seemed to fade into a dissonant drone in the back of Luna’s head. She felt a strange, almost mystical sensation overcoming her senses. Like everyone else in that crowded room simply faded away, and there was no one there but her and Mr. Grimm.
“Luna?”
Ward’s voice snapped her back roughly. Shaking her head, Luna turned her gaze up to him. “Powder room,” she blurted.
His brow crinkled. “What?”
“Powder room. To, um, powder my . . . my whatsit. My nose. You know.” She wrenched out of his arms, backing away. “I’ll . . . I’ll be . . . It’s just around that way, right? I won’t be a moment. Um.”