Page 65 of A Bloom in Winter

Before she could respond, he got his own credit card out and quickly finished the transaction. Then he locked a pair of grips on the cart.

With a shrug, he started pushing. “We still need the food, right?”

Mahrci opened her mouth. Shut it. “Ah, yes. Yes, I suppose we do.”

Outside, there were all kinds of blue flashes from the Plattsburgh Police Department cars that had been parked nose-in at the entrance. Hemmy’s strides were long and quick as he shoved the cart through the slush, and over at the Suburban, she helped him with the bags. Within a minute or two, they were driving off, just as another pair of patrol vehicles shot into the parking lot.

In the SUV, everything suddenly seemed very silent to her. Which was what happened when there were things you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure how to phrase them.

“That was an incredible kindness you did,” she murmured. “But how did you know? That those men were trouble?”

He shrugged and kept his eyes on the road ahead as he followed signs to the Northway. “Let’s just say I’m good at picking out felons.”

“I didn’t even notice them.”

“Well, it all worked out. That’s all that matters, right?” Hemmy glanced over. “And besides, we got groceries. Mission accomplished.”

When he refocused on what was ahead of them, she glanced in the back at the bags. All she could think about was . . . what if things hadn’t gone well. What if he’d been shot. Killed.

The violence terrified her. But the idea he might be gone? Well, that did something to her soul. And yet . . . he was just a stranger, right?

Once they were on the highway, she stared out the window at the drifts of snow, the pine trees, the hills in the distance that loomed in the clear night sky . . .

If he had died, there in front of the human pharmacy, in a wrong place, wrong time kind of thing, what would she have missed?

The pain in the center of her chest was a shock, and she did her best to rub it away.

Now was not the time to meet the love of her life.

It really wasn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE

It’s funny what you’ll do when you’re avoiding something else.

As Callum wiped his mouth with the napkin he’d been provided, he sat back from the table. “This was good.”

Thesymphathacross from him laughed in the low way he did. “You sound so surprised.”

There was a lot of this that was surprising, Callum thought.

“And now you’re ready to go.” His host also sat back in his chair. “I’m proud of you. For staying in this room as long as you have.”

The conversation had been easy, even too easy. And he knew why.Symphathshad a way of putting people at ease, usually before they manipulated the fuck out of them for their own purposes. Yet none of that was going on. At least not that he was aware of.

Callum glanced around at all the nice furnishings. “Me, too.”

He thought of Apex. And that kiss.

Maybe it was the wine . . . maybe it was the feeling that he’d broken this place’s hold on him . . . but he felt himself warming under his skin as he remembered their mouths meeting. How could he go further, though? It was impossible to separate Apex from everything . . . that had happened.

The rescuer was part of the disaster.

“I feel like I should pay you for this,” he said briskly as he nodded at the empty plates. “And yes, the asparagus was really good, even left over.”

“I suspect it’s been a while since you’ve eaten properly, so your standards are low.” Blade lifted his wineglass with a nod. “But I will take the compliment because I’m a narcissist, and compliments are better than food to me.”

Getting to his feet, Callum carried his plate over to the sink. A quick rinse and he put it in the dishwasher. After he slipped the silverware into the machine’s little basket, he pivoted around and leaned back against the counter. Time to go—

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