She turned to him, the closet at her back. “All of these need to be cleaned. If dust is left to accumulate, it builds up and clouds the glass. Plus, it makes more work for us when an order needs to be filled.
He stared at the inventory behind her. “All of that looks very breakable.”
She nodded. “It is. So I suggest you take your time and do it carefully.”
“Maybe I should call it a day.”
She smirked. “A little on the clumsy side, huh?”
“No.” He took a beat. “Maybe.”
She started to shut the door. “If it’s too much for you…”
“No, I can do it.” He grabbed for the door and ended up putting his hand over hers.
The warmth of his hand felt nice. And the move put them face to face, so close a daisy wouldn’t have fit between them. Her lips parted to tell him…something.
Then his mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss that sent the most delicious ripples of pleasure through her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had kissed her. His lips were as soft as rose petals, and the feel of them made her knees buckle.
She leaned into him, kissing him back just a little. She remembered this feeling. The way her stomach went all light and floaty and the world slowed down and a funny little trilling sounded in her ears. Actually, she didn’t remember that last part.
“Marigold.” Leah’s voice rang out through the shop. “Your phone is ringing.”
Marigold jerked back, the moment gone. The ripples of pleasure remained, however, while some of them turned to embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Wyatt was still mere inches away and seemed in no hurry to change that. “Shown me the closet?”
She pushed some hair off her face. The doorjamb was behind her. There was really no way for her to back up. “You know what I mean.”
“I kissed you.” He brushed his mouth across hers again. “Like that.”
Her next breath was a ragged inhale that must have announced to him how affected she was by his presence. “My, uh, phone is ringing.”
He stepped back. “So it is.”
Twelve inches. Maybe eleven. That was all the space he’d put between them. And yet, somehow, it was too far.
She was losing it. Over a man who wasn’t interested in anything more than passing the time. And who might potentially be working with Tim to get custody of Saffie. Wow, she was desperate and sad. She marched toward her phone. Time to snap out of it.
She grabbed the phone, saw it was Birdie, and hit answer. “Hey. What’s new?”
“I did a deep dive on Mr. West.”
“And?” Despite being a little angry at herself for that kiss, Marigold held her breath. She didn’t want him to be a bad guy.
“He’s clean.”
She exhaled. “Okay. Good. But how can you be sure?”
“I can’t be completely. But I looked into his financial records and—”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“Did you want to know if he was being paid by your ex to dig up info on you and Saffie or not?”
“Yes, but I guess I didn’t realize what that would entail.” Marigold also realized that most of what Birdie told her, she was going to have to keep to herself. That or explain to Wyatt how she knew so much.
“Now you know.”
“I suppose.” Marigold hesitated. What was done was done. “What else?”
“He’s working for a woman named Suzanne Anderson. She’s a witch. No clue what kind of powers or how skilled. There’s not a lot on her.”
Marigold walked into the workroom, putting more distance between herself and Wyatt. She lowered her voice a little too. “He can’t know what she is. He’s human.”
“I don’t think he knows. He was a very well-respected police officer and detective. He had an accident—”
“I know about that.”
“Medical reports show he’s deaf in one ear. The left one.”
“Holy holly, how deep did you go?”
“You know me. I don’t leave stones unturned.”
“Apparently.”
“He grew up in the foster care system. Did you know that?”
“I did.”
“Eighteen homes in thirteen years.”
The breath left Marigold’s body for a moment. She put her hand on the table to steady herself. “Oh.”
“Yes,” Birdie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “That poor boy had no childhood. Not being shuffled around like that.”
Marigold blinked back tears. “That’s awful.”
“The most awful,” Birdie confirmed. “His parents were killed in a car accident when he was four. His aunt took custody of him, but found out she had cancer six months later. The fact that this man became a cop instead of a criminal is plumb amazing.”
Marigold nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’ll tell you something else,” Birdie offered. “I don’t believe in my heart that this man would ever do anything against a child. Your ex might have hired someone to dig into Saffie’s life, but it’s not Wyatt. You can take that to the bank.”
“I believe you.” But then, what had Newt been talking about? “Hey, there’s someone else I need you to look into.”
“Name?”
“Newton Mathers.”
Wyatt wiped the dust off another vase, returned it carefully to the shelf, and then applauded himself for reaching new heights of stupidity.
Kissing Marigold had been far more pleasurable than he’d imagined it would be—and he’d imagined it quite a few times since meeting her—but it had also been one of the dumbest things he’d done in a long time.
So dumb. But so amazing.
He got another vase down and went to work cleaning it. Thinking about how soft her lips were was not going to help him. He’d been completely set on keeping things platonic. He’d pretty much promised her that’s what he would do. He’d told her he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship. Because he wasn’t. Or hadn’t been. No, he wasn’t.
The thing was she lived here, and he lived in Atlanta. And he’d be returning there soon. Like the day after the wedding.
So why had he kissed her?
Because he really, really liked her. And he’d wanted to kiss her so much that when the moment had presented itself, he’d taken it. The need had filled every cell in his body.
He was a man, after all, and she was a beautiful, desirable, smart, funny, independent woman. And they’d been flirting. Hadn’t they? At least, he thought they had.
But he shouldn’t have kissed her. At first, he’d thought she was into it, but then how she’d reacted after…not so much.
Which really meant they needed to talk.
He put the vase down, tossed his rag onto a shelf, and left the storage closet behind. Marigold was in the workroom, putting more centerpieces together. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
She kept her eyes on the centerpiece she was making. “Not really.”
He smoothed a hand over his hair. She was mad. He’d been a cop long enough to get a pretty accurate bead on people’s emotions. Being a cop had also taught him not to be a quitter. “I’d like to talk to you. Please.”
She lifted her gaze to him for a long, thoughtful moment, then glanced at Leah. “You want to run down to the Hallowed Bean and get a coffee?”
Leah’s mouth took on an incredulous bend. “We have coffee here.”
“Not salted caramel lattes with extra whip.”
Leah jumped off her stool and grabbed her purse. “Good point. Back in a few. You want anything?”
“No, thanks,” Marigold answered.
Leah headed for the door. Neither Marigold nor Wyatt spoke until the bell jingled at her leaving.
Marigold turned toward Wyatt, crossed her legs, and gave him a look that stated pretty clearly she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with him, so it had better be short and to the point. “What do you want to talk about?”
No poi
nt in beating around the bush. “You know. That kiss.”
She frowned and sighed in a way that spoke volumes.
“I know,” he said. “I shouldn’t have. You obviously didn’t like it, and I—”
“I liked it.”
That was news to him. “You did?”
“I thought it was fantastic, but I’m not interested in fantastic kisses from a man who’s here temporarily and completely uninterested in anything more than a one-night stand, because I’m a grown woman and a mother, and I don’t do one-night stands.”
“I never said anything about a one-night stand.”
“It was implied.”
“In what way?”
“Really?” She blinked at him like he was a complete idiot, which maybe he was around her. She did something to his brain. He couldn’t think straight around her. “It’s an established fact that you’re not going to be around for much longer, you told me you don’t want a relationship, and yet you’re flirting with me and kissing me. You obviously think you’re going to make something happen. This is why I don’t date tourists and I don’t date huma—never mind.”
“You don’t date humans?”
“I was going to say…new men. Men I don’t know.”
That’s not at all what he’d heard, but now was not the time to argue over a slip of the tongue. “What other kind of men are there if they aren’t new men?”
“I prefer men that have been vetted by a friend or family member. A guy someone already knows.”
And yet she hadn’t wanted to date the insurance guy, although her sister had recommended him. Marigold was hiding something. He didn’t need his cop instincts to figure that out. “Okay, whatever.”
“Can we focus on the fact that you’re leaving and you’ve clearly stated you don’t want to get involved?”
“Right.” He could see her point. Sort of. “Look, Marigold, I’m sorry I gave you the impression I wanted a one-night stand. And I know what I said, but I do like you. Maybe we could just see where things take us?” Even as he said the words, he had to wonder if a long-distance relationship could really work.
Especially when he still wasn’t sold on marriage.
Her frown deepened. “Well, it’s just great that you like me, but it’s still a no from me. I don’t think you get that what isn’t good for my daughter, isn’t good for me. Having a man in my life temporarily might be fun, but those days are gone for me. My carefree single days ended the moment I found out I was pregnant. And I realize that putting a child first as a priority is probably a foreign concept to you, but that’s what a parent does.” As the last words left her mouth, an odd, regretful look came over her face.
He couldn’t focus on it. His past swamped him with a deluge of horrible emotions in a way they hadn’t in years. He struggled to keep the pain and anger out of his face. His voice still came out edgy and raw. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t have a clue what putting a child first means.”
He spun and stalked toward the door.
Her stool scraped the floor with a piercing metal-on-concrete screech. “Oh, Wyatt, no, I didn’t mean, I didn’t think—wait. Please. I meant because you’re single, not because…”
He stopped walking and just stood there, facing the door. The muscles in his jaw ached from clenching down so hard. He realized that she probably had meant because he was single. She didn’t strike him as the type to hurt him intentionally by bringing up his past, but it reminded him why he so rarely shared his history with anyone. He swallowed, trying to clear the anger and pain away, but it had come upon him with such ferocity that it wasn’t so easily dismissed.
“I’m so sorry, Wyatt.” Her voice was filled with regret and sympathy, and somehow, that just made it worse. He didn’t want her to pity him. To see him as some child who’d been hurt by the very system meant to take care of him.
He didn’t want her to think he was weak, not this woman who had it all together. If she didn’t need him at his best, she certainly wasn’t going to want him at his worst.
He shook his head and finally found his voice. “I have to go.”
Then he walked out and left Marigold behind, knowing he’d just blown any chance with her he might have had.
Marigold wanted to cry. Even as the words had left her mouth, she’d realized how wrongly they could be taken.
Then that was exactly what had happened.
She’d hurt Wyatt. Cut him to his soul, she expected. And she felt like a big pile of manure because of it. Why on earth hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? What had possessed her to say that to him?
Was it really so bad that the man had kissed her? No.
Why wasn’t there a spell that could take words back? Also no. Just a complete mind wipe, and that seemed…extreme. She didn’t want him to forget her.
She had to find him and apologize again. She had to do something. Because no matter how she wanted it not to be true, she liked him too.
She grabbed her phone and texted Leah. Get back here. Please.
I’m still in line at the HB.
I’ll make it up to you. Need you back.
Wait, they just called my name.
You have your key?
Yes, why?
The door will be locked. I’ll explain later.
What?
But Marigold was already out the door. She closed it and locked it. The only other time she’d locked up the shop during business hours was when Saffie had come down sick at school. That was before Marigold had hired help.
It didn’t matter. Leah would be back.
Wyatt mattered now.
He couldn’t have gone far. Where was he parked? In the back where she parked? If he’d left already, she might have to drive out to Millersville to his hotel. Birdie would know where he was staying. But going to a man’s hotel might be…well, not the best thing to do when she’d just accused that man of being interested in a one-night stand.
She jogged around the corner to check.
Yep, his brand-new, rented black SUV was parked next to hers, making the later model vehicle look a little shabby. She frowned. If his car was still here, then he hadn’t driven off.
Obviously.
Good grief, she was losing it. Where could he be? She strode down Main Street, scanning in both directions in the hopes she might find him. He really couldn’t have covered much distance if he was still on foot. He’d been gone, what? Ten minutes?
She thought back through the day to see if he’d said anything that might give her a clue to his whereabouts now, but came up with nothing. Unless he was returning the stuff he’d bought at Guildman’s. Would a man think to do that, though?
She grabbed her phone and called Birdie.
The woman answered in a couple rings. “Hi, Marigold. What’s going on?”
“I had a fight with Wyatt and I need to apologize, but he stormed out. And look, I know this is a huge, crazy long shot, but do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“Give me a second.” Marigold heard clicking in the background. Like a keyboard. “He just opened a tab at Howler’s. You want me to call Bridget and tell her to send him back to you?”
“No, but how do you know that? About the tab?”
“I checked his credit card.”
That sounded very illegal, but in the moment, she didn’t care. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“No problem.”
Marigold hung up and marched toward Howler’s. She hated public scenes. Even worse that she was about to have one with a man. Tongues would be wagging for sure. Well, those tongues could bite themselves.
She owed Wyatt an apology.
She yanked Howler’s door open and went in, standing there for a second until she spotted him. He was at the bar, his back to the front of the restaurant. Bridget was setting a beer in front of him.
Marigold hoped she could find the right words. He was probably furious with her. She didn’t blame him. If he wanted to make her grovel a little, she’d get
it. If he didn’t want to talk to her, she’d get that too. She’d hate it, but she’d understand.
Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to talk to him.
She gathered her courage and walked toward him, heart pounding, and not at all unconcerned by how much this mattered to her. Oh, she liked Wyatt all right. Way more than she should.
She stopped behind him, next to his shoulder, trying to find the words that would make him understand how sorry she was. “Um, Wyatt? I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. I would be if I was in your shoes. What I said was insensitive and cruel, and if my daughter had said something like that, I’d probably ground her for a week. I’m really, really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I honestly didn’t mean to bring up your past, but you’d confided that in me, so I knew about it and I should have thought before I spoke.”
There. She’d said everything that was on her heart. She stood there, waiting for his response.
And waiting. And waiting.
Meanwhile, he just stared at the beer in front of him. She wasn’t even sure he’d drank any of it yet.
“I guess you want to be left alone.”
And…nothing.
Great. He was giving her the silent treatment. She’d really been hoping he wasn’t that kind of guy. But better to find that out now than—wait, why did it matter when she found out? They were not about to be in a relationship. Not now, not ever. Especially not now, though.
She should just go.
Bridget walked by behind the bar. “Hey, Marigold. What can I get you?”
Wyatt’s head jerked up, and he twisted around to look at her. “Oh. Hey. I’m, uh, glad you’re here. I’m sorry about losing it back there.”
He was apologizing to her? “Did you hear anything I said?”
His eyes clouded in confusion. “You mean in the shop?”
“No, I mean like five seconds ago.”
His gaze narrowed. “How long have you been standing there?”
“A good six or seven minutes.”
“And you were talking to me?”
“Yes. I made a big apology speech.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “On my left side.”
The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10) Page 10