“Um, are we talking about my shop or my living space?”
Zora raked him with an appraising gaze. “Both, I’d say. Here.” She grabbed a few more packets from the display and added them to the basket. At the register, she packed them and the crystal into a purple mesh bag and tied it with a ribbon.
He pulled out his wallet.
“No charge, dear. Consider it a gift for Gus. If our old friend is truly resting uneasy, I’d like to do whatever I can to bring him peace.” She squeezed his hand in both of hers, a motherly gesture that made his eyes prickle just a tiny bit. “Now, you take good care of yourself, and don’t hesitate to reach out for help. This town’s got a lot riding on your success.”
“I will.” His voice wobbled. “Thank you, Zora. And thanks for the tea.”
Indeed, there must be something magical in that brew, because despite her frustrating, cryptic advice, he left Zora’s place feeling lighter. The clouds had parted, and bright sunshine gilded the rain-wet pavement and raindrops clinging to the bare-limbed sycamore trees. He filled his lungs with clean, fresh air, then set off toward his shop.
“Now, inner wisdom, how do we convince Hannah to set aside her rule about dating a source?”
A young couple crossed his path, each holding the hand of a giggling toddler wearing a knit cap he recognized from Gus’s shop—neon green with three googly eyes on top. “Again,” the kid demanded, and his parents swung him high in the air.
“I flying,” the little guy squealed. “Again!”
Smiling wistfully, Xander watched them pass. Lucky child to have parents who helped him fly.
A weird sensation sizzled down his spine.
“Family, huh? Is that the answer?” Instead of bitching about their oppressive negativity, why not focus on the one relative who believed he could fly?
And dear old Uncle Gus had provided him with just the juicy bait he needed to pique Hannah’s interest. Over the past week, when not daydreaming about the stubborn reporter, he’d spent hours sorting through Gus’s personal papers and found some truly far-out shit.
Maybe protecting a dead man’s reputation was a futile waste of time—because Gus sure as hell didn’t care who knew about his belief in interstellar visitors. From what Xander had read, his uncle had planned to shout it from the rooftops.
And if anyone thought he shared his uncle’s wacko beliefs, well—his new store would set them straight. Okay, one or two shelves of alien souvenirs in Gus’s honor, but the rest would be…
He’d figure it out soon. Like Zora said, his inner wisdom would show the way.
And right now, his inner wisdom wanted another chance with Hannah.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message.
Found something interesting in Gus’s journals. Open for another interview?
Chapter Twelve
Hannahhunchedoverhermuffin-crumb-littered desk, crunching the numbers again. Nearly halfway through March, subscriptions and advertising were up, but not enough.
Last night, dogged by insomnia, she’d scribbled potential solutions in her bedside journal, but this morning, her sleepy chicken scratch was a complete puzzle.
Expand
Digonly
Savings
What the hell had she meant? She recalled it making sense right before she finally dropped off to sleep…and dreamt of Xander. Which was not helpful. How was she supposed to concentrate with his dark, lust-blown eyes haunting her dreams, her daydreams, her every waking moment?
“Arrgh.” She cradled her aching head.
A soft hand fell onto her shoulder. “I’m worried about you, hon.”
Crap on toast. The last thing she needed to do was burden her sick mother with this mess.
She flashed a tight grin. “I’m fine, Mom. Just didn’t sleep well.”
