Almost Midnight (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3.5)(101)

“Are they silver?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she answered, flustered.

“You like wolves?” he said, quickly cutting his eyes up to her face. Was he trying to read her pattern? Before she could tell, he focused back on the jewelry.

“Sort of,” she said, now more curious.

“You use a kiln?” He didn’t look at her now. For some reason that stung.

“No, a torch.”

He nodded. “So … how much are you pricing these for?”

“I’m thinking ninety for the chain and pendant, or the whole set with the earrings for a hundred and ten.” She waited for him to tell her it was too much. That she simply gave herself way too much credit.

“You need to charge more,” he said.

Stunned, she could barely find her voice. “You think people will pay more?”

He shifted his eyes to her without moving his face. “I think you’re worth more than that.”

A breeze of pure joy whispered through her. He liked her work. On the inside she did a happy dance. On the outside she stood completely still, an odd kind of energy buzzing through her.

“Can you do custom designs if someone wants it?”

She hadn’t considered it, but she could. She nodded.

“Is this all the stock you have?”

“Right now, but I could do at least three more sets before the store opens.” That was pushing it, but damn it, she wanted this.

“Okay.”

Okay what? “Does this mean I get the gallery space?”

He hesitated. Fredericka’s heart stopped. Everyone at the school had plans, career choices, college choices. Fredericka only had her art. Was it too much to want it to mean more than just a passing hobby?

“You haven’t seen the contract yet,” he said.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” She felt herself smiling, something she didn’t do a lot of.

He turned his head to look at her. She caught a quick glimpse of his scar again, before he turned back. Her thoughts shifted from curiosity to empathy. How would she feel if she couldn’t hide her scars? If they were out there for the world to see? She’d have become a hermit. But maybe her scars were deeper than his—tied to shame and … murder.

Either way, her admiration for Brandon Hart inched up.

With half his face turned away from her, he looked from her jewelry to her. “You … you’ll have to man the store at least two days a week.”

“Weekends okay?” she asked.

He stood there as if thinking. “You work somewhere else?”

“No, I … I’m finishing up school.”

“College?” he asked.

“High school.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” she countered.

He frowned ever so slightly. “I’m not applying for a job.”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” she said. And she was, and not just about his age. But about his scars and … even more about his species. Was she wrong that his scent actually had some trace of supernatural in him? If he’d take off that darn hat, she’d be able to know.

He stood there waiting as if expecting her to give in and tell him her age. She didn’t budge. The silence hung heavy. Then he caved. “I’m twenty.”

She nodded. “I’ll be eighteen next month. I got a late start in school.”

“Can you do some half days during the week?”

“I might be able to swing it.” Hopefully she could convince Holiday.

“Ten percent of sales goes to help pay for the upkeep of the gallery.”

“Sounds fair.” Her lips twitched and she realized she was still smiling.

He was still staring at her smile.

She found herself wishing he would smile. Wishing she knew his story. Hoping his story of how he’d gotten those scars wasn’t anywhere as devastating as hers.

“Follow me, Ricka, and I’ll get you the contract.” He started down the hall.

“Fredericka,” she said, her smile fading.

“You don’t look like a Fredericka. I like Ricka.”

“But I don’t,” she said, her tone serious.

He paused and looked over his right shoulder at her. “Why?”

Because the man who called me that just died last week. Because that name reminds me of the good, the bad, and the evil that came with it. “What if I called you Bran?”

“Deal.” He turned and commenced down the hall.

“What deal?” She stared at his shoulders, held tight and proud. She liked how he carried himself.

“You call me anything you want, and I’ll do the same, Ricka.”

“Okay, *,” she said before she could stop herself.

He laughed.

She started to tell him she hadn’t meant it to be funny, but realized she was smiling. It was his laugh. It sounded almost musical. She found herself wishing she’d seen his face when he’d done it. Damn this guy was a mystery.

She stepped a little closer, hoping to catch his scent again. Her gaze locked on the dark brown curls that hung just a little long and brushed against the collar of his light blue shirt. Practically mesmerized at how soft his hair looked, she didn’t realize he’d stopped. Or she didn’t until she walked right into him.