“Nothing, now,” Em said, gazing out the huge plate-glass window, holding a tiny cup containing something very dark.
Her voice didn’t hold a tenth of the energy I’d heard when she called.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I thought I had an answer. To the finding Jack thing.” She tipped the cup and drained it of its contents before placing it on the empty saucer in front of her. “But I was wrong. And stupid. And a terrible friend.”
“No, you aren’t,” Michael reassured her, touching her lightly on the knee. “It’s not like you asked for a frivolous reason.”
“She’d never ask me to do something like that.” The trust she had in him—the trust they had in each other—was so intense that I felt alien and intrusive.
I rapped my knuckles against the table, wishing I had something productive to do with my hands. “I can go … if you need me to …”
“No, don’t leave,” Michael said. He inclined his head slightly away from the table. “Just give us a second.”
I followed the smell of baked goods. Even though the building had obviously been around for a while, everything in the place was neat and organized, from the highly polished floor, which was stained a dark chocolate brown, to the selection of books in the bookcases. I reached the bakery display case and leaned down to peer through the impeccably clean glass.
I spied a sight that enticed me way more than any éclair or doughnut ever could.
I’d know that back end anywhere. Just last night, my hands had been on it.
Tiger Girl was behind the counter.
Knowing she most likely hadn’t forgotten or forgiven, I stayed down and tried to figure out how to escape without belly crawling to the exit. Then she moved out of sight, and I heard the swinging door to the back of the shop open and close.
I stood and shot back to the table. Emerson and Michael looked up at me in surprise. “You know what? I need to go. Can we meet up later? I’ll find you. Okay.”
Their focus shifted to something behind me, and I cursed under my breath.
“Em, can we talk in the back for a sec? I feel like I need to explain,” Tiger Girl said, her husky voice insanely close to my right ear. “I’m so sorry—”
Em interrupted. “No, I am.”
Tiger Girl knew Emerson. Emerson knew Tiger Girl.
When she noticed I hadn’t moved, Em started to make introductions. I shook my head furiously and eyed the front door. So close, yet so far.
Em ignored me. “Lily, I want you to meet my friend Kaleb. Kaleb Ballard, this is my best friend, Lily Garcia.”
Best friend. Awesome.
I turned to face her and all brain function ceased. Long dark hair knotted on top of her head, skin like butter, and curves that begged me to reach out and touch, all combining to completely obliterate the memory of her solid smack across my face.
For the first time in my life, the morning reality was exponentially better than the fantasy of the night before.
When I found my voice again, I said, “I’m Kaleb. And I’m also sorry.”
Lily leaned her hip against the side of Em’s chair, crossed her arms, and stared at me with hazel eyes. “Not so nice to meet you, sorry.”
“How do you two know each other?” Em asked.
Lily’s nuclear gaze remained steady. “Remember how I told you about the guy grabbing my junk right before that lunatic took the stage with his gun?”
“No,” Em breathed. “Kaleb, you didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did.”
“Are you hungover?” Lily asked me. Not in concern. Her hair slipped out of the loose knot to fall around her shoulders.
I shook my head and tried not to pay attention.
“Too bad. So.” She looked at me with the perfect combination of disinterest and disdain. “How is it that you happen to know my best friend?”
The hissing and whirling of the coffee machine behind her stopped, and the shop held its breath.
“His dad is Liam Ballard.” Em, eager to diffuse the situation, hurried to answer for me. “The man Michael and I went back in time to save.”
“The director of the Hourglass? Oh crap.”
Lily dropped into an empty chair, and the shop exhaled.
“She knows?” I asked Em.
Lily’s frown started in her eyes, spreading to her forehead and mouth like an afterthought.
Em worded her answer carefully. “She knows about the time travel thing, and what happened with your dad, and about the purpose of the Hourglass. I got permission from your dad to tell her that much.”
So she hadn’t given Lily specifics about other people’s abilities. Hopefully.
“What does he know about me?” Lily asked.
“Nothing,” Em answered.
“Nothing,” I repeated. “At all.”
Lily looked up at me balefully. “Except how my ass feels in your hand.”
A group of older women spilled into the shop, chattering in delight. Tourists, definitely, here to antique shop and soak up small-town atmosphere.
“I need to get back to work,” Lily said, scooting to the edge of her chair. “Pumpkin Daze is starting, and I have to stock the pastry case so I can go hand out candy.”
“Do you need me to stay and work?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Call me?” Em asked.
“After my shift.” She lifted her arms to adjust the apron strings around her neck, and then shook out her hair before catching it up in another knot. She caught me looking.
“What?” I asked, with a failed attempt at innocence.
“Did you need me to stand up? Twirl around?” Lily stuck her index finger in the air and made a spinning motion.
I had the good sense to respond by mumbling, shaking my head, and staring at the floor.
Chapter 8
Emerson’s expression was priceless as we filed out of the shop onto the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you grabbed Lily’s … You know, Kaleb, maybe you should start drinking organic milk. It has less hormones.”
The town square teemed with people and energy. The fall festival ran for the whole month of October, kicked off by the masquerade. Today was the Town Trick or Treat, and little kids rushed around everywhere, holding out bags and taking candy from shop owners and employees. A cauldron with individually wrapped chocolates sat unattended in front of Murphy’s Law.
“Exactly how much does she know about the Hourglass?” I asked Emerson.
A tiny ballerina in a purple tutu danced up and held out her bucket. I scooped some chocolates from the cauldron and gave her two. She smiled up at me with sparkly pink lips, exposing the space where her two front teeth should have been.
I gave her the whole handful.
“Lily knows everyone at the Hourglass has a time-related ability,” Em answered. “But I kept the details to myself.”
“We gave her specifics about travelers, but we didn’t go into anything else,” Michael said. His cell phone rang, and he read the caller ID. “Be right back. Hello?”
“Why were you and Lily apologizing to each other?” I picked up the cauldron and passed out more candy to a couple of boys with king-sized pillowcases bursting at the seams.
Em stared at Michael’s back and sat down on a bench flanked by flowerpots filled with yellow mums and purple pansies. “I can’t really talk about that.”
