Page 20 of Red Flag, Green Light

Amelia sinks. “Something happened to Ceres’s pickup order, and it was canceled.”

Mars’s nose scrunches. “Ew. Technology.”

I’m sorry. Why is Amelia sharing my business withMars?

“I feel terrible,” Amelia murmurs. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. The order was cancelled. It would have to be put back into the system, assuming the products haven’t already started to be restocked, and we’re so busy right now…”

Just tell him my life story I guess. Grimacing, I ask, “Since when are you two friends?”

Mars arches a brow. “We went to school together. I wouldn’t say we’refriends, but…” He looks atmyfriend. “Amicable acquaintances, maybe?”

Folding her hands together behind her cute dress, Amelia says, “A friend of Brian’s is a friend of mine.”

Amusement crosses the Rogue brother’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still hopelessly obsessed with mail boy.”

“Mailman,” Amelia corrects, flushing, “and I don’t plan to tell you anything.”

“Brian has connections in a really good company. If you reach out to him, I’m sure he could get you a remote, orlocal,position. Then, you wouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense and youmightbe able to do more than stalk him on social media…assuming of course you’re stalking him on social media…and if your high school record is anything to go by…”

Amelia coughs and smooths her hands down her skirt, straightening her bright blue Walmart vest. “I absolutely do not do that and have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Very convincing.” Mars lifts his cell phone out of his pocket. “I have his number. Want me to ask for you?”

Amelia squeaks and lunges, grabbing Mars’s hand. “Absolutely not!”

He shrugs. “All right. If you’re sure. I can’t force you into a better lifestyle. You have to figure out you want one by yourself.” His attention lands on me again, and I have a disturbed feeling I won’t like what he’s about to suggest, but all he says is, “Want me to repark your car in a normal spot and go in with you?”

I swallow, possibly sending shards of glass down my throat. “What?”

“You don’t like to drive, so I’ll move your car for you, and you don’t like to shop in person because of all the people in this town who getchatty, so I’ll go in with you as a shield.” He swaps his phone out for a list scrawled upon a small white sheet of paper with tiny monarch butterflies flitting across the bottom. “We can shop together. I’ll even push the cart.”

My lashes flutter as I stare at a man who broke into my house yesterday, refused to takenofor an answer, and coerced me into starting work with him on aFlag Day festivalcome Monday. Despiteeverything, the halo of light glowing behind him suggests I should nominate him for sainthood.

You know.

Eitherthator he’s trying to steal my car and the glow is from a fire he just started.

But, then again, if he did want to steal my car, he could have grabbed the key I keep on a hook by the door yesterday when he waltzed into my house like he owned the place.

Right now, my options are to either accept his help, and whatever underhanded schemes come with it, or fast through Monday.

I’m not keen on fasting… The very idea makes me want three meals a day, as though I have had three meals a day even a single time in the past three years.

Ugh. Okay. I survived dinner with Mars last night, enjoyed it even.

Surely, this will also be fine.

This is not fine.

“Mars,” I say, all nerves concerning being within a crowded building forgotten, “I shouldn’t have to tell you that thecartisnota skateboard.”

“You’re so right. You should not have to. Yet, here we are.” He pushes off, gliding up the aisle while people part for him and leave us alone. Even Brandi, the chattiest tattoo artist in the world, thought twice before joining us in this aisle, and she has not said a word to us since entering it.

Mars is People Be Gone.

I’d like to bottle whatever vibes he puts out into the world, then keep that bottle on me at all times, even in my own house, just in case more of Bandera’s residents forget how to read the unwelcome mat outside my front door.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I say.

---