Page 51 of Secondhand Secrets

“I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and bit back another laugh. “And just to be clear, I have no issues with your Princess Fiona look.”

“Shrek references, really?” She growled and hunched over the sink, splashing water over her face and scrubbing away before straightening and tugging a hand towel from a nearby hook. “Chip Overton, you think yourself too clever.”

He chuckled and strolled closer, reaching for the hand towel. “I have the papers to prove I am clever. Here, you’ve missed a spot.”

She dropped her shoulders and handed him the towel, her eyes closing as he drew in to remove green from around her nose creases.

“Still think you could have warned me.” Her voice was a sulky mumble, but the slight upward curve of her lips hinted at no real offense. “There I was, just merrily chatting to people, and the whole time my head looked like a cabbage.”

Her words brought another smile to his face, and he drew the towel away to press a soft and prolonged kiss to her lips. “And miss this? I don’t think so.”

Her tense shoulders eased lower, and her eyelids fluttered open, her gentle stare on him seeming to muddle through some unspoken problem in her head. “Is the paint all gone?”

Her new husky tone wrapped around him like a wool blanket, just as the light dimmed and a pronounced click came from behind him. She jolted back and then shoved past, her quick steps taking her to the suddenly closed door.

“Oh, no.” She wrestled with the silver handle and a repeated clack-clack-clack filled the air, but her efforts were to no avail. “No, no, no, no, no!”

He strode over to her, now slapping both palms to the door’s glass window. “Someone must have bumped the door stopper on the way in.”

A low growl rolled up her throat and released on a loud and frustrated “Arghhh” before she took out her mood on the ineffectual door stopper, kicking it across the lead-gray polished concrete until it bounced against the nearest wall and then rolled to a stop.

She sent him a taut and silent stare, then stormed across the room and back to her purse. Soon, the contents lay strewn over a small table, tubes of lip gloss, loose tissues, her phone… she sifted through it all in fevered sweeping motions, only to turn to him with shadows under her now glistening eyes. “They’re not here. My keys, they must be in my cardigan pocket, and that’s draped over my chair at the outside tables… I’ll… I’ll have to call Aggie.”

A small silence lingered, and she wandered over to the couch, plonking herself down onto the bright, velvety cushions, her cell phone clasped in her hand. “She’ll have to double back all the way from Maynard’s. I’m such an idiot.”

But she was so much more than she gave herself credit for, and he hated hearing her speak that way. “What about the windows? One of us could climb out and—”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “They only open a few inches. Aggie’s idea to stop anyone breaking in.”

She pushed out a heavy sigh and began pressing buttons on her phone, the forward roll of her shoulders and the deflated tilt of her head sparking a fire low in his gut.

He fought a sharp ache to reach out and touch her, to make her forget this misery, only he didn’t need to fight that ache at all. “Don’t.”

His tight command had her crystal blue stare pinned to him, her brow pressed into a quizzical straight line. Meanwhile, his gaze slipped to the silky white texture of her forearm and her phone in her hand, a new rise of desperation spurring him on. “Don’t call Aggie.”

Twenty-Five

Ally frowned up at Chip’s unwavering stare and long strides toward her, making her sink deeper into her work shed’s couch. His hand was quick to clasp hers and halt her ability to call Aggie.

“Just don’t call her yet, okay?” He pulled the phone from her hand and laid it gently on the table beside the sofa, her heart rate spiking at what his interjection meant. “Let her enjoy Maynard’s for a bit longer.”

He knelt on the fluffy mint rug before her, leaving her few places to look but the rich hazel of his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

He leaned in closer, hands pressing into the cushions either side of her. “Do you need to ask?”

She ran her tongue over her upper lip and recalled the kiss he’d given her moments before she’d discovered they were trapped in this room together.

Oh, but I’m trapped in more ways than one.

Her heart confirmed her theory of entrapment with one solid beat inside her ribcage, her pulse racing because she did know why he knelt so close. Especially now his gaze did a small dance about her face, hinting his knowledge on her realization.

“Ally, kiss me.”

He paired his vulnerable whisper with tugging her to the couch’s edge, one hand pushing at her knee, her body instinctively doing as asked and parting to make room for him.

Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks, and as much as she wanted to say, “Someone might find us,” even she heard the weakness in that excuse.

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