Willow #2
At the honey table, he pays for a jar Nina picks up “just to look at,” then hands it to her like this is the most ordinary thing in the world.
“Xander,” I say, because this is getting ridiculous.
He glances at me. “What?”
“You can’t keep buying us things.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird.”
“It’s bread and coffee, Willow. Not a private jet.”
“That’s not the point.”
Nina is no help whatsoever.
She takes a bite of cinnamon roll and says around it, “I think it’s nice.”
“Of course you do. You’re benefiting.”
She nods serenely. “Correct.”
I look at Xander. “Stop encouraging her.”
“I’m not encouraging her,” he says. “I’m feeding her.”
We end up near the fountain again, bags in hand, Daisy flopped dramatically at my feet like she’s completed military service and deserves a pension.
Nina crouches to adjust the strap of one of her tote bags and glances up at Xander. “You’re different than I expected.”
I tense, because that could go anywhere.
Xander doesn’t. “That’s either flattering or not.”
“It’s both,” she says.
He huffs a laugh.
She straightens. “Willow makes you sound impossible.”
I stare at her in horror. “Nina.”
“What? You do.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s mostly accurate,” Xander says.
I turn to him. “You’re supposed to deny that.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how social interaction works.”
“I think we’ve established I’m not especially interested in how social interaction works.”
“Trust me,” I say dryly. “I know.”
Nina’s smile turns softer then, less teasing, more thoughtful. “She also doesn’t talk about many people more than once.”
The square seems to get louder around us at the exact moment I go still.
Absolutely not.
I level a glare at her intense enough to peel paint.
She pretends not to notice.
Xander doesn’t say anything right away.
When I finally force myself to look at him, his gaze is on me in that way of his that somehow feels like being touched.
Nina clears her throat with all the innocence of a woman about to commit a crime. “I need to pop into Grace’s for five minutes.”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” she replies.
“You absolutely don’t.”
“I absolutely do. I promised her I’d pick up a hold.”
“You’re inventing errands.”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Coward.”
“Strategist,” she corrects, then reaches for Daisy’s leash before I can stop her. “I’ll take the gremlin.”
Daisy goes with her.
I stare after them, betrayed by dog and bloodline alike.
When they disappear into Daffodil Books, I say, without turning around, “I’m going to kill her.”
“No, you’re not,” Xander says.
“I’m at least going to scare her.”
“That I believe.”
I fold my arms and look out over the square instead of at him.
It’s still busy. Still warm with noise and movement and people who have no idea I’m standing here trying very hard to act normal while my entire internal system runs around banging pots together.
“This was nice,” I say finally, because it was, which is deeply irritating.
“Yes.”
I glance at him. “You’re not even going to pretend that surprised you?”
His gaze holds mine. “No.”
“Arrogant.”
“Observant.”
I sigh. “You really only have the one personality flaw, don’t you?”
“I have several. You just focus on your favorite.”
That shouldn’t make my stomach flip. It does anyway.
I shove a hand into my jacket pocket. “You didn’t have to buy Nina half the market.”
“I bought her a pastry.”
“And the honey.”
“She looked at it like she wanted it.”
“That’s not a stable financial philosophy.”
“It’s not a financial problem.”
“It is if you keep doing it.”
He watches me. “Does it bother you because I spent money or because it felt easy?”
I hate that he can do that. Just cut straight through the middle of a thing while I’m still busy pretending it’s made of smaller pieces.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Okay,” he says.
I look toward the bookstore, where Nina is very clearly not hurrying. “She’s doing this on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“She thinks she’s subtle.”
“No one related to you is subtle.”
I snort before I can stop myself.
His mouth shifts again.
The square blurs a little around the edges then, in the way the rest of the world goes softer when someone’s standing too close and looking at you like that.
I clear my throat and look away. “This is still weird.”
“Yes.”
“You agreeing that easily is unnerving.”
“I’m not trying to make it less weird.”
I look back at him. “No?”
“No.” He takes a step closer, not enough to crowd me, just enough to shift the atmosphere between us. “I’m trying not to lie to you.”
My pulse does something humiliating, because there it is, that thing with him.
No games in the important moments. Or pretending he doesn’t mean what he says. No softening the edges just to make me more comfortable if comfort isn’t the truth of it.
I open my mouth but have no idea what to do with any of that. So naturally, my body picks sarcasm.
“Very bold of you,” I say, “considering lying is usually more socially efficient.”
“I know.”
“And you hate efficiency in personal matters?”
“I hate dishonesty more.”
That shuts me up.
Before I can figure out a response that isn’t completely useless, Nina appears in my peripheral vision with Daisy and exactly the expression of someone trying very hard not to look pleased with herself.
Xander sees her at the same time I do.
Nina slows when she gets close enough to clock the atmosphere and, to her credit, doesn’t comment on it.
She just hands me Daisy’s leash. “Ready?”
I take it, because what else am I supposed to do with my hands. “Desperately.”
She looks between us. “Good market?”
“Eventful,” I say.
Xander’s gaze stays on me. “Yes.”
Warmth creeps up the back of my neck.
Nina adjusts her tote higher on her shoulder. “We should head back before Daisy decides she lives here now.”
We start drifting toward the edge of the square, and I think that’s it. Nice market. Strange feelings. Everybody goes home and pretends to be normal about it later.
Which was always stupid.
Because with Xander, nothing ends cleanly.
Nina gets distracted by a display of potted herbs near the exit. Daisy makes an urgent attempt to investigate them, and I bend to stop her from committing herb-related crimes.
When I straighten, Xander is there. Closer than he should be.
His hand catches lightly at my elbow, just enough to pause me.
“Xander…”
He kisses me before I can finish. His mouth is warm and sure and gone almost before my brain catches up.
I stare at him.
He looks entirely too calm for a man who just hijacked my central nervous system in public.
“What?” I say, because apparently words have abandoned me.
His eyes flick briefly toward Nina, then back to me. “You looked like you were about to leave.”
“That’s because I was.”
“I noticed.”
My face is absolutely on fire. I chuckle. “You can’t just do that.”
“I can.”
Behind me, Nina becomes very interested in basil.
I glare at him, because it’s the only thing stopping me from doing something worse, like kissing him back in the middle of Redemption Square while my sister pretends not to witness my collapse.
“This,” I say, furious and entirely too breathless, “is why you’re impossible.”
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then lifts again. “Go home, Willow.”
I blink at him. “Did you just kiss me and then dismiss me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane behavior.”
“Probably.”
Nina chooses that moment to rejoin us, smile suspiciously neutral. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Xander says at the same time.
She nods like that tells her everything she needed to know. I tighten my grip on Daisy’s leash and glare at both of them in turn. “I’m surrounded by enemies.”
“Family,” Nina corrects.
“Menace,” I say, looking at Xander.
He inclines his head, like he’ll take it, and somehow that’s worse than arguing.
We part at the edge of the square. Nina still carrying half the market, Daisy still trotting like she’s won, me trying very hard not to touch my mouth like a teenager in a bad movie.
I make it exactly twelve seconds before Nina says, “So.”
I keep walking. “No.”
She laughs.
And beside us, Daisy sneezes again, like even she knows I never had a chance.