Page 19 of Haunt the Mall
He shook his head and stopped to lean on the stair banister. “This lady and I spend a lot of time together, though.” He jerked his head up to give his bangs more lift.
“So, you’re friends?” Please don’t let it be more than that, I prayed.
Mischief lit his eyes as he slid closer. His fingers marched across the rail towards me. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends. She lost her husband. She’s probably lonely, and that’s why she hangs out so much.” He arched his brow, self-satisfied with his announcement.
My heart raced in my ears. What exactly was he implying? “Are you talking about a fuck buddy?”
“No, sorry.” He flushed, retracting his hand. “I was referencing—”
Then, it hit me.
The crawling fingers. His head motion. A widow who ‘hung out.’ Right above us.
I covered my flaming cheeks. “Oh my god. You were talking about the spider.”
How did I not get the reference? It was the easiest pun. He even gave me hints.
“I thought you were her biggest fan,” he said. “You saw her movie twice. Well, in two halves. We might have to rethink your VIP status.” He let out a shaky laugh and stretched against the railing.
I desperately wanted to smack his arm just to get a feel for it. “Maybe I should make an offering to appease her,” I said.
“Young, virile men?” He flexed his forearms against his rolled-up sleeves.
“I’d rather keep one of them.” I pressed my hip against the railing.
His thumb grazed my ass. It could’ve been an accident, but his dark eyes implied otherwise. I leaned into his touch, reveling in the prickle of electricity between us.
“Katalina,” he whispered my name, rolling my skirt between his fingers like a plaid rosary.
I shivered. People only used that name when I was in trouble. And I definitely was, but I wanted him to know the real me better. “You can call me Kat. Or Miss Silver.” I smiled, reaching for the card key ID hanging from his belt. “I liked that.”
Did I want to pull him in for a kiss or to twist the ID and find out his name?
“Kat. Or Miss Silver,” he purred. “How may I be of service? Is there somewhere you need access?”
His fingers tickled the back of my thighs, asking permission.
Fuck a name. I liked mysteries well enough.
Just as I began to close my eyes and lean, he bolted off the railing and stood up straight. He adjusted his belt with ferocious determination to smother out our moment. “Hey, welcome back," he said tightly.
My heart slingshot against my ribcage. Was he talking to a customer?
“Hi,” Tori squeaked from around the staircase. “Sorry, I can wash my hands again.”
“That shouldn’t be necessary. We were just talking about spiders and ritual sacrifices.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the widow hanging above us. “Have you seen that movie yet? Or slept through it, perhaps?”
“No.” She pouted. Her naps seemed to be a sore spot today.
“She offered to see it with me,” I said, my lips half numb from lack of contact.
“That’s nice. My sister studied the trailer, but she—well, it doesn’t matter.” He sniffed and gestured to the spider. “Do you want a picture on the stairs with our lady? She’s fairly tame, I promise. We fed her an annoying guest at five, so she should be set for the night.”
I laughed and pushed his arm. “Can I volunteer someone for your next victim? I have this coworker—”
Tori stared at me, aghast, though my man wasn’t fazed.
“Uh, never mind. I’ll save my nomination for shoplifters,” I said. I probably shouldn’t talk about any underlings like that, even if they were pains in my ass. I handed him my phone. “You can use this.”