Keeping the stake low at my side, I headed back toward the theater. There was a parking lot behind it. Maybe that was where Blythe had gone. As I hurried in that direction, a tiny voice in my head kept up a running commentary. So if you find her, you’re simply going to stab her to death with a piece of wood in the parking lot? And hope no one sees? Because tiny girls getting staked behind the Royale Cinema seems like something people would notice.
But if I got rid of—no, killed, I needed to say killed—Blythe now, all of this ended. No Cotillion showdown, no chance of my whole town being wiped out, no chance of David dying. This was my chance.
Or it would have been, if she had been in the parking lot.
There were a few people straggling in, but both of the movies had already started, so the parking lot was more or less empty. Still, I kept my stake hidden at my side as I walked the rows of cars, ducking down to look under them, even peering in the windows.
No Blythe.
When I got to the last car on the row, I sighed, nearly letting the fence post drop from my hand. This was stupid. It probably hadn’t even been her. Maybe the stress of the past few weeks was finally catching up with me, and I was going crazy in addition to becoming a Paladin.
I should go back into the theater, find Ryan, and figure out some way to salvage this evening. The fence post clattered to the ground, and I turned back to the theater.
And suddenly I heard the sound of running feet. As I whipped around, I could have sworn I saw brown hair disappearing around the corner, back toward the square.
Dropping to my knees, I scrambled for the fence post. Not caring who saw me dashing through downtown Pine Grove wielding a damn stake, I took off after her. My boots clicked hard on the pavement, and I could hear the wind and my own blood rushing in my ears.
Was there a flash of movement over by Miss Annemarie’s? I ran in that direction.
But just as I reached the tearoom, the door swung open. I didn’t even have time to register that someone was coming out of that door before plowing directly into him.
Something warm splashed all over me, and for one horrifying, dizzying moment, I thought I’d plunged my stake into an innocent person’s heart. But, no, I’d managed to lower it at the last second, and I could hear the wood clatter harmlessly to the pavement. As for the hot liquid currently seeping into my cashmere sweater, from the smell, it was the crab bisque that my Aunt May was so fond of.
My breath was sawing in and out of my lungs, burning with the sharp night air, as I stumbled back from . . . David.
Bisque was dripping from the front of his tweed jacket, the crushed plastic container still clutched against his chest. He looked down at himself and then back at me. “Pres? Is this some kind of Paladin thing? Was the soup poisoned or something?”
I didn’t answer; I was too busy looking for Blythe, but there was no sign of her. She was gone.
Dropping my hands to my knees, I bent forward, taking deep breaths, trying to slow the slamming of my heart.
“I thought you had a date tonight,” David said, and I don’t know why that’s the thing that did it. The tears that had pricked my eyes earlier suddenly came back full force, and to my absolute horror, I burst into tears.
“Whoa, whoa, Harper,” David said, the plastic container tumbling to the sidewalk. He gripped my arms, holding me slightly away from him and ducking his head to look into my face. “What happened?”
“I was on a date, but Ryan and I got in a fight, and he likes Mary Beth—MB—I think, but it’s like I don’t even c-care, which makes me a-a horrible person, and then I saw Blythe, or I thought I did, and I vandalized a fence, and now we smell bad, and that s-s-soup wasn’t poisoned, I just ran into you, and—”
I didn’t get any further before David carefully wrapped his arms around me. He held me like I was a bomb he was afraid was seconds from going off, keeping our bodies as far apart as he could while still technically hugging me.
“It’s okay,” he said, patting my back once. He apparently decided that was a good move because he did it a few more times. And the weird thing was, it was kind of a good move. I lowered my forehead to his tweed-covered shoulder and let myself be patted until my tears slowed to a trickle. A few weeks ago, if you had told me that being held in David Stark’s arms was one of the nicest things I’d ever feel, I wouldn’t have laughed at you. I would’ve been too busy choking on my own horror.
But leaning against him, crying into his stupid tweed, I thought I could maybe stay there forever. It was such a relief to be able to sob and have someone know all the reasons why.
Once I was calmer, I lifted my head to find David watching me with an expression I’d never seen before. Before I had time to figure it out, he reached behind him and opened the tearoom door. “Well, I’m going to need another order of soup to go, so why don’t we go inside and have a cup of tea. Tea fixes stuff, right?”
I looked back across the square at the theater. Ryan was in there, waiting for me. Or sitting next to Mary Beth and not worrying about me at all. Besides, I smelled like crab.
So giving one last glance to the theater, I nodded and followed David inside.
Chapter 29
DAVID AND I sat at the same table in the corner where The Aunts and my mom had had lunch last week. Miss Annemarie brought us a stack of napkins along with our tea, and we both did our best to blot the bisque from our clothes. As we did, I told David about Blythe.
Taking a sip of his tea, he mulled that over. “So you think she was following you just to, uh, mess with you?”
I dropped a sugar cube into my Earl Grey. “I guess. If she was even there. And it’s okay, you can say the F-word.”
To my surprise, David shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve kind of become fond of the euphemisms. The other day, I said ‘mother trucker’ when I dropped a book on my toe, and I have to admit, it was every bit as satisfying as the actual curse.”
“See? I told you there were acceptable alternatives.”
Raising his teacup in a salute, David inclined his head. “You were right.” Then he widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Hey! Saying that didn’t even burn my tongue! We’re making progress, Pres.”
I tossed one of the crumpled-up napkins at him. “Ha-ha.”
He tossed the napkin back, but there was a smile playing around his lips.
I sipped my tea, feeling the warmth of it in my toes. The tearoom was always so overstuffed and tacky during the day, but at night, it felt cozy. There were tiny lamps in the middle of all of the tables, and we were the only people in the place. Everything smelled pleasantly spicy—well, everything except me and David—and the atmosphere was almost . . .
No, I wasn’t going to say romantic. There was nothing romantic about Miss Annemarie’s Tearoom. Or David Stark for that matter.
“What?” David asked. He was frowning slightly, the dim light making shadows underneath his cheekbones. There was the lightest smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose, and I wondered why I’d never noticed those before.
I looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You shook your head,” he said. “What were you saying no to?”
“Oh.” I took another sip of tea so that I wouldn’t have to answer right away. “I was thinking how crazy this night has been.”
Leaning back, David stretched his arms over his head. “Yeah, I was planning on eating crab bisque tonight, not being doused in it.”
“Oh, please. That jacket cost you what? Two bucks at Goodwill? I will never get the smell out of this sweater.”