Within the confines of Colby’s eavesdropping, he left me with goose bumps down my arms.
“Let me walk you to the bathroom,” he offered. “I’ll wait for the pizza at check-in.”
No longer trusting him with my food, I allowed myself to be shuffled through the correct door.
Certain he would wait to escort me back, I went through the motions of flushing and washing my hands.
Sure enough, Markus was on his phone when I exited, and his gaze flicked up to mine. “Done?”
“Yeah.” I turned back toward the craft room. “Mind walking me back?”
Might as well ask rather than fumble through another awkward exchange. He was coming either way.
“We wouldn’t want you getting lost again.”
At the door to the craft room, he saw me inside then shut it behind me. I almost checked to see if he locked it too.
“Was that Markus?” Trinity had her phone in hand. “I thought I heard voices.”
“I bumped into him outside the bathroom,” I fibbed. “He was nice enough to escort me back.”
“That’s him.” She didn’t glance up from the photos she was taking. “Nice.”
“How’s the wig inspection coming along?” I walked up behind Clay and peeked over his shoulder. “Looks like you two are getting serious.” I caught his gaze and let a hint of warning touch my eyes where Trinity couldn’t see and then mimed plucking a hair from her head. “I can’t remember Clay ever letting anyone touch one of his wigs. He must endorse your noble quest.”
“Try it on.” Clay poured on the charm. “You know you want to elf yourself.”
“Are you sure?” She examined the cap. “I don’t want to hurt it.”
“Here.” He took it from her. “Let me help.”
From a pile of bobby pins in a bowl, he selected two and seated the wig. As he secured it, she flinched, her back going stiff. But Clay’s smile was guileless, and his self-deprecating laugh authentic.
“Sausage fingers,” he muttered. “Sorry about that.” He flicked the ends of his hair, tucking the stolen strands from Trinity in his collar so he could show her his hands were empty as he placed them on his lap in clear view. “I just glue and go, so I’m out of practice.”
“No problem.” The crease of her brow smoothed when he held up a mirror for her. “Oh wow.”
“Right?” He chuckled. “The guy who makes my wigs is a magician.”
Technically, he was a witch, but I wasn’t here to split hairs. Just steal them.
A buzz in my pocket drew my attention to my phone.
>>This is your excuse to leave.
>Thanks.
>>We need to get Colby out of here.
A lump formed in my throat that I did my best to ignore.
>We’ll be there in ten.
Eyebrows on the climb, Clay watched me with a question in his eyes.
“We have to go.” I wiggled my cell. “We’ve got a lead we need to hop on while it’s fresh.”
“Okay.” Clay rose with regret painted on. “Tell you what.” He lingered. “Why don’t you keep those?”