Bitter Spirits (Roaring Twenties #1)(46)

“Before the accident.”

Astrid shook her head. “Before Paulina. The accident just made it worse.”

If the girl was trying to make Aida curious, she’d done a fine job. “Why didn’t Winter come here himself?”

“He did. He’s waiting in the car downstairs.”

FIFTEEN

AIDA STARED AT ASTRID FOR A MOMENT, HEART POUNDING, THEN walked to the bed. “Where’s the fur? Here?”

Benita quickly unpacked the coat. It was cashmere, all right, a soft camel color. And the collar was made of the longest, thickest, softest deep brown fur she’d ever seen. Aida could barely look at it, the thing was so ridiculously lovely. She averted her eyes and looped the coat over her forearm. Her apartment keys sat on the bedside table. She grabbed them and headed toward the door. “You coming?” she asked the girls, who scrambled to follow her out, Astrid begging to know if she liked the coat. Of course she liked the coat. That wasn’t the point.

Mrs. Lin waved at them as they marched through the front door of the restaurant, Astrid complaining and fussing the whole way. Aida saw Bo on the sidewalk first, then Winter. He was lounging back against the Pierce-Arrow, ankles crossed. She thought she saw a flash of surprise in his eyes when he noticed her stalking toward him, but it quickly cooled.

“Mr. Magnusson,” she said, stopping in front of him.

“Miss Palmer.”

Damn him, he looked unfairly handsome. And he was giving her the frostiest look, slanting it down at her while his head remained still. He was intimidating, and she knew she should still be angry with him, but his clean scent wafted toward her with the breeze, and that lulled her into a softer mood.

All she could manage to feel at that moment was a tremendous amount of comfort and relief. Like when she’d tried to stop drinking coffee and went without for several days, until she walked into a diner and smelled it being brewed—then she forgot why she’d been trying so hard to avoid it, so she gave in and had a cup. That first sip was pure joy and warm pleasure.

That’s how she felt, standing there in front of him, only a few inches away.

And it was a feeling that didn’t pair well with the words she’d been repeating inside her head the entire trek down from her apartment, but she said them anyway: “I cannot accept this coat.”

“Why not?” he said in his seductive, low baritone. “Do you hate the design?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“The color?”

“I love the color.”

“It doesn’t fit?” He turned his head to the side and called out to Astrid. “Can it be altered?”

“Sure, but she hasn’t tried it on,” Astrid called back. She was standing on the sidewalk with Benita and Bo, several yards away, as if Winter were contagious and they didn’t want to get too close. She probably should’ve kept her distance as well; one minute in his company and she already wanted to sway closer. It was pathetic, truly.

Winter glanced down at her. “How can you say it doesn’t fit if you don’t try it on?”

“I never said that. I—”

“Here, let me help.” He pulled the coat out of her arms and shook it. “Looks real enough. It’s not shedding, so hopefully it’s not made of rat hair.”

“I heard that,” Astrid shouted.

“Can we speak alone, please?” Aida said to him under her breath.

“Are you going to tell me why you can’t take this coat?”

“Maybe.”

“Then no, we can’t be alone. Hold out your arm.”

She scowled at him, or tried to, at least, and held out an arm. He slipped the coat onto one arm, over her shoulders, then the other arm. He was very close, and he was touching her again, and that was only making her Comfort and Relief feelings grow stronger. He tugged the coat closed. “There. Looks as if it fits just fine to me.”

She glanced at the length of the arms, the hem, hoping to find something to latch onto for argument fodder, but no. It fit. It fit well.

“Told you,” Astrid called out.

“She’s very irritating,” Aida complained in a low voice.

“You have no idea,” Winter answered with a merry twinkle in his eye, keeping his voice quiet to match hers. “You look lovely. That coat couldn’t possibly be any better. It suits you perfectly.” He ran his fingers along the side of her bobbed hair and smoothed down flyaway strands, causing a flurry of goose bumps to spread across her scalp. “Tell me why you can’t accept it.”

“I have a very good reason.”

“You always do. I’m listening.”

“Give me a second. You’re distracting me with your handsome looks and sensible arguments.”

She shouldn’t have said that. He puffed up like a balloon, seemingly growing several inches in height. He almost started smiling. Almost. He leaned closer. “You may not want to keep it, but I have a good reason why you should. You’ll need it tomorrow night.”

“Why?”

“I’d like you to come to dinner with me.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Is this like the last meal you invited me to? Or have you seen another ghost? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m not working for you anymore, and that’s final.”