“Thanks,” he called out again, and his laughter echoed on the evening air.
“He’s right,” Sebastian murmured, not bothering to resist the urge to run his fingers through her hair. “You did good.”
She shrugged, wishing she weren’t so moved by the tone of his voice, by the touch of his hand. “I earn my keep.”
“I bet you made a bundle on that one.”
Laughing a little, she turned her head. “Hey, I made two dollars and seven cents. That ought to buy me some popcorn at the flicks.”
He cut off her laughter by touching his lips to hers. It wasn’t a kiss … really … she thought. It was … friendlier.
“What did you do that for?”
“Just one of those things.” Sebastian straddled his bike, then tossed her a helmet. “Climb on, Sutherland. I hate to be late for the movies.”
* * *
All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to unwind. Mel had always enjoyed the movies. They had been one of her favorite recreations as a child. It didn’t matter if you were the new kid in school once the lights went out and the screen flickered into life.
Movie theaters were comfortingly familiar anywhere in the country. The smell of popcorn and candy, the sticky floors, the shufflings people made as they settled down to watch. Whatever movie was playing in El Paso was probably entertaining patrons in Tallahassee, too.
Mel had been drawn back to them time and time again during her mother’s wanderings, stealing a couple of hours a week where it didn’t matter where she was. Or who she was.
She felt the same sense of anonymity here, with the moody music and shadowy suspense on the screen. A killer was stalking the streets, and Mel—along with the other viewers—was content to sit back and watch the ancient duel of good against evil.
She sat between Sebastian and his cousin, Morgana. His gorgeous cousin Morgana, Mel had noted.
She’d heard the rumors about Morgana Donovan Kirkland. The rumors that whispered she was a witch. Mel had found them laughable—and only found them more so now. Morgana was anything but a cackling crone ready to jump on board a broomstick.
Still, she imagined the rumors added to the business Morgana pulled in at her shop.
On the other side of Morgana was her husband, Nash. Mel knew he was a successful and highly respected screenwriter, one who specialized in horror scripts. His work had certainly scared a few muffled screams from Mel—and made her laugh at herself.
Nash Kirkland didn’t seem the Hollywood type to her. He struck her as open and easygoing—and very much in love with his wife.
They held hands during the movies. But not with the sloppy sort of mush that would have made Mel uncomfortable. Instead, there was a quiet, steady bond of affection in the gesture that she envied.
On the other side of Sebastian was Anastasia. Mel wondered why a woman as hauntingly lovely as Ana didn’t have a date. Then she reminded herself that such a thought was sexist and stupid. Not every woman—herself included—found it necessary to go everywhere hanging on to the arm of a man.
Mel dug into her popcorn and settled into the movie.
“You going to eat all that?”
“Hmm?” Distracted, she turned her head. Then jerked it back quickly. She’d practically been lip-to-lip with Sebastian. “What?”
“You going to share, or what?”
She stared a moment. Wasn’t it odd how his eyes seemed to glow in the dark? When he tapped a finger on the box of popcorn in her lap, she blinked.
“Oh, yeah. Help yourself.”
He did, enjoying her reaction to him every bit as much as the buttery popcorn.
She smelled … fresh. Sebastian kept part of his mind on the twists and turns of the plot and let the rest wander at will. He found it pleasant to be able to scent her soap-and-water skin over the aromas of the theater. Ifhe let himself, he could hear her pulse beating. Steady, very steady, and strong—and then a quick jerk and flutter when the action heated up on-screen.
What would her
“He’s right,” Sebastian murmured, not bothering to resist the urge to run his fingers through her hair. “You did good.”
She shrugged, wishing she weren’t so moved by the tone of his voice, by the touch of his hand. “I earn my keep.”
“I bet you made a bundle on that one.”
Laughing a little, she turned her head. “Hey, I made two dollars and seven cents. That ought to buy me some popcorn at the flicks.”
He cut off her laughter by touching his lips to hers. It wasn’t a kiss … really … she thought. It was … friendlier.
“What did you do that for?”
“Just one of those things.” Sebastian straddled his bike, then tossed her a helmet. “Climb on, Sutherland. I hate to be late for the movies.”
* * *
All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to unwind. Mel had always enjoyed the movies. They had been one of her favorite recreations as a child. It didn’t matter if you were the new kid in school once the lights went out and the screen flickered into life.
Movie theaters were comfortingly familiar anywhere in the country. The smell of popcorn and candy, the sticky floors, the shufflings people made as they settled down to watch. Whatever movie was playing in El Paso was probably entertaining patrons in Tallahassee, too.
Mel had been drawn back to them time and time again during her mother’s wanderings, stealing a couple of hours a week where it didn’t matter where she was. Or who she was.
She felt the same sense of anonymity here, with the moody music and shadowy suspense on the screen. A killer was stalking the streets, and Mel—along with the other viewers—was content to sit back and watch the ancient duel of good against evil.
She sat between Sebastian and his cousin, Morgana. His gorgeous cousin Morgana, Mel had noted.
She’d heard the rumors about Morgana Donovan Kirkland. The rumors that whispered she was a witch. Mel had found them laughable—and only found them more so now. Morgana was anything but a cackling crone ready to jump on board a broomstick.
Still, she imagined the rumors added to the business Morgana pulled in at her shop.
On the other side of Morgana was her husband, Nash. Mel knew he was a successful and highly respected screenwriter, one who specialized in horror scripts. His work had certainly scared a few muffled screams from Mel—and made her laugh at herself.
Nash Kirkland didn’t seem the Hollywood type to her. He struck her as open and easygoing—and very much in love with his wife.
They held hands during the movies. But not with the sloppy sort of mush that would have made Mel uncomfortable. Instead, there was a quiet, steady bond of affection in the gesture that she envied.
On the other side of Sebastian was Anastasia. Mel wondered why a woman as hauntingly lovely as Ana didn’t have a date. Then she reminded herself that such a thought was sexist and stupid. Not every woman—herself included—found it necessary to go everywhere hanging on to the arm of a man.
Mel dug into her popcorn and settled into the movie.
“You going to eat all that?”
“Hmm?” Distracted, she turned her head. Then jerked it back quickly. She’d practically been lip-to-lip with Sebastian. “What?”
“You going to share, or what?”
She stared a moment. Wasn’t it odd how his eyes seemed to glow in the dark? When he tapped a finger on the box of popcorn in her lap, she blinked.
“Oh, yeah. Help yourself.”
He did, enjoying her reaction to him every bit as much as the buttery popcorn.
She smelled … fresh. Sebastian kept part of his mind on the twists and turns of the plot and let the rest wander at will. He found it pleasant to be able to scent her soap-and-water skin over the aromas of the theater. Ifhe let himself, he could hear her pulse beating. Steady, very steady, and strong—and then a quick jerk and flutter when the action heated up on-screen.
What would her
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