Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(53)

“It is. I’ll make some calls and see if we can meet him.”

“Fantastic! You are chock-full of networking goodness,” I said, eagerly pulling the pins out of my wig as we pulled out onto the main road. I couldn’t wait to get it off. It was itching something fierce.

“Truth is, it would have been way easier to get the talon from evidence than from this guy. But what are we going to do? We don’t have a choice anymore.”

And we didn’t have much time.

21

Our flight home wasn’t overbooked, so we both got to sit in first class together. I refused the complimentary champagne this go-around, because I was already sleepy from my schedule being thrown off. It was hard to shift from bartender days to normal days.

When we’d been up in the air for about fifteen minutes, I asked him a few questions about his mysterious ginger-haired friend, but he wouldn’t say much. Only that he would make some calls and let me know something later that night if he could manage it. After more drinks and snacks were served, I gave up on trying to pry information out of him.

The sun had set, so the pilot turned off the cabin lights. A few reading lamps switched on above the seats around us. I closed my eyes and turned toward the window, hoping that if I fell asleep, I wouldn’t snore.

“Did it at least work?”

“Huh?” I lifted my head to look at Lon. He was flipping though the in-flight magazine without looking at the pages; it was too dim to see anything.

“If you regret what we did, I understand, but did it at least work?”

Now I was wide awake. I pushed myself up in my seat.

“Not so far, no. But why would you think I regretted it? You’re the one acting all weird. Can’t you just”—I lowered my voice—“read me?”

“I’m not acting weird. I’ve been trying to read you all day. I can’t. You’re chaotic.”

“Umm, you are too acting weird. You’ve gone back to being all clammy and Neanderthal. I mean, I didn’t expect for you to start calling me ‘baby,’ but I thought you’d at least be cool about it. I’m not going to latch onto you like some love-sick brat, or cry and beg you for a date or anything, sheesh. I didn’t regret it, but I’m starting to now.”

I crossed my legs and arms at the same time, settling back and staring at the seat in front of me. Until I got riled up again.

“P.S.,” I added angrily, trying to keep my voice down, “When you first told me about your ability, I thought that trying to keep my feelings hidden was going to be the worst part about being around you. Guess what, it’s not.” I turned in my seat to look at him, pointing my finger into the center of his chest. “I couldn’t give a good goddamn if you know what I’m feeling anymore. The worst part is not being able to read you back. Being around you is so damn frustrating sometimes. The only way anyone could ever figure out your intentions is if they had some kind of special ability like you’ve got.”

For several long moments, we were actors in an old Western, standing alone in the middle of a dirt road. We stared each other down until he finally dropped his eyes. I won. Yippee.

“I thought I was being plain,” he said after a few seconds. His voice was low and even.

“What are you talking about now?” I griped.

“I paid you compliments.”

What in the world was he referring to? Compliments? “You mean when you told me that I had a nice ass?” I asked, sarcastic.

“You do. I also told you your hair looked pretty.”

“No you didn’t. You said it was cute.”

“Same difference. I invited you to my house that first time—”

“You insisted that I come over because the books couldn’t leave your library.”

“—and made you dinner, which you could have refused. Introduced you to my son.”

“He actually introduced himself,” I mumbled.

“And trusted you to take care of him, even though you’re a magnet for trouble right now. What else? I told you personal things about my life that I don’t normally share with other people.” I started to protest, but he bulldozed me over. “I’ve tried to make sure you’re safe, even though you’ll probably just say that you didn’t need my help—and you probably don’t, because you’re a better magician than me. On top of all that, I told you that I was available.”

“What? You certainly did not.”

“Keep your voice down,” he said, looking behind him toward the couple across the aisle.

“Don’t shush me,” I whispered.

“And, yes, I did. I told you I wasn’t dating anyone.”

“You were drinking wine with some dishy woman when you—”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not even answering that again. It was work, and I couldn’t possibly be less interested in Sarah.”

I huffed and looked away. Then I thought about what he was saying, and what he really meant by it. I normally considered myself pretty sharp, but it took me several moments to get it. When I did, a strange tightness filled my chest, and I immediately tried to stomp it out.

“Garbled, chaotic,” he complained, covering his eyes with his hand in frustration. “Can’t you just stop all that and be decisive one way or another?”