Free Copenhagen Cozenage by Kristen Joy Wilks Page B

stood and paced back and forth in front of a display of cartoon festooned placemats. “I got kicked out of Rosenborg Gardens and church. Did it never occur to you that you could have eased my pain and suffering by letting me in on your little joke? When I was wading through the fountain perhaps? Or maybe as I fought off those wild children in their charging boat or when I plunged off the pirate ship or got robbed by your overgrown thug?” I snatched the nesting dolls out of his hands and slammed them on the floor. “You are shameless. And you know what? I don’t even like your stupid dimple. So there!” I scattered the dolls until they were completely out of order, and then plopped down on an embroidered pillow with ugly orange tassels.
    August stood up and crossed the room. He rummaged around in a dark back corner and trudged back holding an old mortar and pestle set. He stood in front of me for a moment, and then placed them in my hands. “For your cheek.”
    I stared at him and then stared at the set. Really? But finally, I leaned my cheek bone against one of the cool black stones and sat silent, letting the adrenaline drain from my weary limbs while tears oozed down my cheeks.
    He scanned my face before he glanced down, staring at the floor. “You were marvelous, all day long. I was horrendous.” He reached down and tugged Leroy up by the collar. “I’ll send the artist that picture of his man hitting you and then I’m quitting. This wasn’t fair to you. I’m so sorry.”
    I glared up at August. “You are nothing whatsoever like Snarvich The Reticent .”
    He looked confused for a moment, and then the tiniest hint of a smile nudged his mouth.
    Well, now it was done. My disguise was completely blown and my geeky interior exposed. A tiny part of me was embarrassed and fueled the blush I felt creeping up my cheeks. But mostly I was glad. Pleased that August realized I preferred a fictional character from 1968 to him.
    He stood for a long, silent string of heartbeats, holding the dog’s leash. Then he dropped it on the floor and knelt in front of me. He seemed about to say something, but closed his eyes instead. August steepled his fingers before his bowed head and sighed. Finally, he met my gaze. His eyes were dark blue within the shadows of the small dusty store.
    The air between us almost crackled with tension.
    Just spit it out, I wanted to shout. Whatever he wasn’t saying was setting me on edge. My nerves felt as though a thousand tiny centipedes scuttled across them back and forth, forth and back, their horrible little legs scrabbling against me. My muscles clenched tighter and tighter until my back ached.
    He reached out and ran his thumb over the puffy bruise on my cheek. “Forgive me, Morgan.”
    I froze.
    The remorse was clear in his eyes. But was that enough? Perhaps it was exhaustion or the shock of my fall from the pirate ship or the horror of Maks’s attack, but I didn’t step away as the lying fiend leaned nearer.
    August took my face in his hands and kissed me. Careful and cautious and slow.
    I put my hands on his chest to shove him away, but couldn’t. For half a heartbeat, I melted against him and returned his kiss. The cluttered secondhand store faded and I felt his quiet strength as August slid his arms around my back and pulled me close. He had saved me, time and again. August was the only good thing about this wretched day. And he was also the very worst of all that I had endured. A lie. A terrible heart-shattering lie.
    I braced both palms against his chest and shoved him away.
    August nodded, acknowledging my anger. He dug a mismatched wad of bills from his wallet and laid them on the floor beside the scattered nesting dolls. “This is all I have on me, Morgan. I’m sorry.” Then he sighed and slipped to his feet, grabbed the dog, glanced back at me one more time, and walked from the room.
    I stared after him, the kiss lingering on my mouth.
    August was my pirate. All the men