Page 95 of The Darkest Chase
He just lit up.
I love when he’s like this, how he still sparks alive with a creative challenge.
Honestly, his energy feels contagious, and I’ve been buzzing all day.
We’ve just settled on wall fountains with trickling basins embedded in tiled alcoves and framed in leaf carvings when I notice there’s something else grabbing my attention.
I lift my head, squinting against the light like a mole person coming out of the cave.
It takes a few seconds more to realize the bell jolted me from my trance.
“Oh, customer!” I glance back at Grandpa. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mm-hmm. Thanks, Tally,” he murmurs, bent over his sketchbook and scribbling away.
I smile.
He won’t even notice I’m gone.
I straighten my babydoll-pink baseball tee and wipe a little sawdust off my jeans, then put on my best customer service smile and step into the front. “Welcome to A Touch of—oh!”
My heart leaps up my throat.
Micah.
As always, he looks a little out of place in the daylight, this inverted shadow man cast in permanent moonlight. Yes, he’s still staggeringly handsome, especially in the sleek trim of his uniform.
Something about his stance makes me think of a gunslinger from the Wild West translated to modern times. His hips slouch forward and his heavy belt rides low, giving him this lazy swagger. He’s got his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, and his attention snaps to me when I gasp.
“Miss Grey,” he greets me, his lips twitching in that subtle way that says this is a thing now.
He knows better. I don’t even hesitate.
“Talia.” But I stop, giving him a closer look, frowning. Even if he’s giving me that not-smile I crave so much, there’s something heavier and darker there today.
Worry furrows his brows and my frown deepens.
“Micah? What’s wrong…?”
He purses his lips, then glances over his shoulder, though I can’t make out what he’s looking at. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Alone?”
Hello, alarm bells.
But I nod, taking a step back. “This way—our loft is right above the store.”
“Let’s go.”
I turn to lead him into the workshop, although there’s a part of me shriveling up as I remember Grandpa grilling me about the ‘date’ I never had. Hopefully, he’s still too caught up in work to notice I’m not alone.
Ha, good luck.
The instant Micah steps into the workshop, his silvery eyes scanning curiously, Grandpa lifts his head and looks at him with a slow, knowing smile.
“Who’s this fine young man?” he asks. “You a friend of my Tally-girl? Or are you just here on business?”
Micah doesn’t miss a beat.
He steps forward, offering his hand.