“Graham,” I said, striving for a patient tone. “I have to go to work. I have to open the store.”
“You don’t, actually. You’re the owner. You make the hours. What are you going to do, fire yourself?”
“If I don’t open, I lose business. I can’t afford to lose business. Not during high season. These next few weeks are the busiest of the entire year. The profits we make in October keep the lights on for all the other months.”
“And what good is having a business if you’re not alive to run it?”
I rocked back, startled by the severity of his statement.
Graham planted his hands on the counter, bracketing me within his arms. “Babe, what part of Eliza Proctor dying a gruesome death at the hands of these freaks didn’t sink into that fucking head of yours?”
“Trust me, it sank in. It sank in so deep, it’s giving me nightmares. I know what’s at stake.” I stared into his eyes and, reminding myself his bossiness was born of a need to protect me, I brought my hands up to lay against his chest. “But I also know you’re going to keep me safe and breathing, no matter who comes at me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a flash of an emotion that was there and gone so fast I couldn’t decipher it. “You trust me to keep you safe?”
“Of course I do,” I said instantly. “You’re Graham Freaking Graves.”
A heartbeat later, I found myself crushed up against his chest, his arms around me, his heart thundering beneath my ear as it pressed against his bare skin. I could barely breathe, he was holding me so tight.
“I take you straight there, I bring you straight home,” he muttered, mouth at my temple. “No detours. If I can’t be there, one of my boys will bring you.”
I nodded and wheezed, “Okay.”
“There are cameras on all the exits so we can monitor who comes and goes. That said, the nature of your work, you’re dealing with strangers all day.”
“Customers,” I corrected.
“Strangers,” he countered firmly. “You need to be mindful. I know you like people to feel at home, settle in, and nurse free coffee refills for six goddamn hours, but you need to take note of anyone who lingers too long or starts acting strange.”
“It’s Salem. Everyone acts pretty strange.”
A low rattle of displeasure vibrated through his chest and his arms tightened even more, compressing my ribcage. “Got a bad feeling about this shit, Gwen. Don’t like sending you out into danger when I’ve got a bad feeling and precisely zero leads.”
“Can’t… breathe…” I wheezed, only half joking.
His arms loosened marginally. “My boys are scanning through CCTV footage around the cemetery, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever left Proctor’s body there. I’ll meet with Hightower later today, get the official rundown of the crime scene. With any luck, they’ll find a set of prints on that knife. Give us a direction to run, at the very least. In the meantime, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“When do I ever do anything stupid?”
“You really want me to answer that?” He snorted in amusement, sounding far less tense. “Need I remind you that just a few days ago, you and Florence pulled a Thelma and Louise, nearly getting yourselves shot up by Mickey O’Banion and your crazy-ass psychic?”
Not to mention our eyes gouged out by a fortune-telling parrot. But he didn’t need to know about that part.
Feigning anger, I smacked him on the arm. “You know, just for that comment,youget to be the one to explain to Flo that we can’t meet her and Desmond for drinks at The Witches Brew tonight for our first so-calleddouble date.”
Graham stilled, his body going solid as a rock against mine. My mouth gaped open as I realized what I’d just said. I immediately tried to walk it back.
“Not that we’re, well,datingor anything. It was just something Flo said on the phone yesterday.”
He stared at me, expression unreadable.
“You know Flo,” I prattled on nervously. “Always ten steps ahead of herself when she’s excited about something.”
He was still staring at me.
“Anyway, I definitely didn’t mean for it to sound like— I guess, I didn’t mean to imply that—”
“You told Flo about us?” he cut me off, his voice a deep rasp.