Page 23 of Fire Dancer

I came around the counter to join her. “Anything else I can help you with?” I spoke softly, tilting my head toward the car.

“Oh no, thank you. I’m fine.” Her laugh was a nervous whinny.

I kept my eyes on the items before us and whispered, “Seriously, Stacy. Is everything okay?”

She didn’t say anything, which set off alarms in my mind. Then she flashed a huge smile and chirped, “Everything’s great! Just trying to decide.”

My eyes wandered to the pinboard by the door. It was filled with flyers for local events, artists, yoga instructors…and a hotline for battered women.

“Maybe I can help you decide?” I aimed my gaze at that flyer.

Her eyes followed mine, and her hand went to her neck. “Thanks,” she whispered, “but I have to figure this out on my own.” Then she flashed that fake smile and waved at the candlesticks. “The hard part is deciding.”

Yes, it was. As in, deciding where the line betweenconcerned citizenandminding my own businesslay. Because something was one hundred percent, totally, definitely wrong here.

Stacy touched my arm, smiling more genuinely now. “I’m fine, thanks. Really. I just need a minute.”

I was sure she needed a lot more than that, but I couldn’t exactly call the hotline for her.

I wandered back behind the counter. “I’m right here when you need me. Anytime.” I emphasized the last word.

She nodded that sweet smile of hers, and I couldn’t help thinking of Ingo, vampires, and his hushed warnings.

I want to keep everyone safe from Jananovich.

If Jananovich was, in fact, in Sedona, and if he was who Stacy worked for. Two big ifs.

I mulled that over while keeping myself busy for a minute or two, then looked up. Stacy was holding two candlesticks, but her eyes were unfocused, her thoughts elsewhere.

I burned to ask her the name of her boss and what TTC Limited did, but that would be out of line in a client-customer relationship. Besides, if I pried, she might stop coming to me entirely, and what help would I be to her then?

“If you like, you can test the candlesticks with those sample candles,” I said gently. “That might help you decide.”

She sniffed one of the candles, but clearly, her mind was elsewhere.

“The vanilla one is really soothing,” I suggested.

Stacy found it and struck a match from the box we kept there. But her hands were shaking — not much, but just enough — and it went out. She tried another, then another—

I narrowed my eyes on the third match and wiggled my fingers, giving her a helping hand. And, oops. It flared so bright, she nearly dropped it.

“Whoa. Okay, here we go,” she murmured as the candle caught, filling the shop with its sweet aroma.

I stretched my fingers, then formed a fist silently.

“Oh, it does smell nice,” she said, closing her eyes.

Now, if only we had garlic-scented candles I could send her home with…

Stacy sniffed a moment longer, looking slightly more at peace. Then the driver honked outside, and she whipped her head around.

“Oh, I’d better go,” she yelped.

I thought fast. Normally, I jumped at the chance to make a sale. But candlesticks weren’t what mattered here.

“Why don’t you take time to think it over?” I suggested. “You can decide when you come back to pick up your order.” I gave the flyer another pointed look.

Her head bowed for a moment, and I nearly blurted,Or I can lock the door, draw the shades, and call that number for you right now. We can have the police here, lickety-split, too. Or better yet, my ex and his buddy. They’re BDSM agents, you know.