Twelfth Sun by Mae Clair

Author:Mae Clair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2912-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The front parking lot of the Soda Shack was filled when Elijah and Reagan arrived. The little drink shop-slash-eatery was unusually crowded for the middle of the week, forcing them to park next to a Dumpster at the rear of the building. A few feet away, a delivery truck idled near the back door. A man in a dark green uniform gave them a nod as he wheeled an assortment of boxes from the truck on a handcart.

Elijah nodded back. He took a moment to stretch, limbering the stiff muscles of his injured leg. Walking around the rear of the Jeep, he hooked his arm over Reagan’s shoulder, enjoying the close contact of her body and the sun-washed fragrance of her hair. Side-by-side, they walked toward the front of the building.

He hadn’t lied when he said her mind was a turn-on. He’d known from that first awkward encounter in his hotel room she was a quick thinker, but he was only beginning to appreciate the subtleties of how her mind worked. She wasn’t simply beautiful. She was damn sharp-witted too. And that pretty much meant he was a goner.

Crash and burn. Nose dive. Danger, danger, Will Robinson. Was it possible to be this far gone over a woman he’d only recently met?

“…find here?”

Elijah blinked, realizing Reagan had been speaking to him. And what does the brilliant young doctor say in response? “Huh?”

She looked puzzled. “I asked what you think we’ll find here.”

“Oh.” Another intellectual, Mensa-inspired comeback. He was on a roll. Grimacing, he held the door for her. “Grape soda. I think.”

Reagan frowned, realizing the flippant reply didn’t match his expression. “Is something wrong? Is it your leg?”

He forced himself to concentrate. “I’m fine.” The cocoon of thoughts regarding his relationship with Reagan fell away. He placed a gentle hand in the small of her back and guided her to the counter, realizing he had no idea what he expected to find.

The beverage shop was crowded, most of the tables filled with morning commuters, locals and early-season tourists. The steady hum of conversation was low and muted, a pleasant drone in the background. Two twenty-something girls ahead of him lingered while placing their order. When they moved to the side, the taller one gave him a prolonged glance from the corner of her eye. Only half conscious of the look, Elijah entwined his hand with Reagan’s, leading her to the counter.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” The gum-chewing, red-haired cashier was unimpressed with his smile. She’d obviously served enough sodas, coffees and teas to send her disposition plummeting. She tilted her head tiredly, giving him a bored look. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Um…” Elijah hesitated. Inwardly he cringed, realizing he had to be setting a record for one-syllable comebacks. He cleared his throat, refocusing on why they were there. “Whatever Mr. Sothern would have.”

“Who?” The girl sounded annoyed. She cracked her gum once. “Are you gonna order or what?”

“Who did you say?”

A man appeared suddenly at her side. Older, with thinning brown hair and a

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