Page 76 of Grim Tidings

I smile and drop a kiss over the red mark. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

A laugh, somewhere above my head. “I somehow doubt that.”

I kiss her until the light changes. Until the boats disappear. Until the tide rises and clouds begin to gather in the east. I finally unglue myself from her, satisfied at the hazy, kiss-drunk look on her face. How she sways after me, both of her hands fisted in the front of my shirt.

“We should go,” I say, tucking some hair behind her ear. “It looks like a storm might be rolling in.”

Her smile dims, and her eyes cut over my shoulder.

“Just an autumn shower,” I assure her. “They happen a lot this time of year. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Right,” she says, but her voice is faint and that little line is back between her brows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head and forces a smile. “You’re right. We should get back.”

But she’s quiet as we wind our way down the stairs to the dock. Quiet as she climbs into the boat and wraps her arms around herself. Quiet as rain begins to fall in earnest from the sky. I shrug out of my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders, and she gives me a small, thankful smile.

“Good?” I ask.

She nods, a quick jerk of her chin to her chest. “I’m fine.” She glances up at the sky again with a frown. “How fast can you get us back?”

“As quick as I can manage,” I assure her, but she barely looks in my direction.

Unable to shake the feeling that there’s something she’s not telling me but uninterested in arguing about it in the middle of the Chesa-peake Bay during a storm, I untie the rope from the dock and start easing us out to open water. The rain is harder out here, the wind sharper. My attention keeps drifting to Darcy, but hers is focused firmly on the church steeples in the distance, reaching up to the sky like grasping hands. Her dark hair is plastered to her forehead, a fierce, thoughtful expression on her face.

It’s how she looked at the bar. That first night. Like someone trying to see through a frosted window, her palm pressed to the glass.

By the time we’re back in the dock, we’re both soaked through, the rain still coming down in sheets. Darcy looks impossibly small under the weight of my jacket, her skin pale and her hair dripping over her face.

I help her stand, then grab her hips and urge her onto the dock.

“We’ll go back to the bar,” I tell her. “Get you something dry to wear.”

She glances down at her legs. “Can’t you just snap your fingers and dry these?”

“I could.” I grin, rain slipping under my collar and running rivu-lets down my back. “But I want to see you in my clothes.”

I’m desperate for it. The hem of my white shirt barely skimming her bare thighs. Maybe one of my sweaters, looped around her shoulders. But Darcy doesn’t say a word at my confession, her eyes faraway. I cup her cheek in my hand, tracing beneath her eye with my thumb until she looks at me.

There are shadows there. Hidden in the soft amber of her eyes.

“Darcy.” I frown. “What is it?”

She shakes her head, and the shadows slip away like mist. “Nothing. I don’t know.” She frowns up at the sky. “I guess I just don’t like storms.”

“Thought dancing in the rain might be your thing,” I try to joke. “Should probably be on your list.”

But she doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “I don’t really feel like dancing.”

“All right, sweetheart. We don’t have to dance.”

I thread my fingers through hers and guide us quickly down the narrow alleyways back to the bar. The cobblestone is slippery beneath our feet, and the pumpkins stacked in the storefront windows watch our progress with curious, judgmental eyes. When I finally get a glimpse of the bar, I make a ragged sigh of relief.

The orange bar light flickers in the window, and I deposit Darcy in a soaked heap next to it while I fumble through my pockets.

“Hey!” One block down, Nate is ducked under the awning of the flower shop, his hands cupped around his mouth. “You got my keys?”