Was Earth that primitive? “People use it to tell time?”
She shook her head. Just for show. Her pen paused on the page, and then she wrote, You’re not an Argent resident.
“Not originally, but I am now.” He rented a farmhouse with three of the five ’Topian castaways. “I arrived with some friends a few months ago.”
That was a short, euphemistic way of saying they were refugees who’d fled their home world, which had been destroyed by the Xeno Consortium. Their ship, the Castaway, had been damaged during the escape, resulting in a crash landing on Earth. With no place else to go and their lives in danger if the consortium found them, they’d voted to remain. The Intergalactic Dating Agency had granted them asylum and provided them with new identities.
I haven’t seen you before. She was opening up, conversing with him. His heart leapt.
“I don’t come to town much.” His ’Topian brothers, Chameleon and Wingman, had raved about Millie’s Diner, but he’d never been there. This morning he’d decided to give it a try. He’d hidden the hover scooter in the bushes near the school and walked to Main Street.
I’m new, too, she wrote.
“How long have you lived in Argent?” He was eager to learn everything about her.
Three months.
“What brought you here?”
My mother! Her lips quirked, and he smiled back. We’re from Boise. She got a job in Cd’A.
Located a dozen miles south on Highway 95, Coeur d’Alene was the most populous city in the Idaho panhandle. Psy avoided the town since he’d been arrested there once.
The bell jangled, and a couple entered the store. She excused herself with a gesture and hurried to greet the customers, showing them a page from her notebook.
“We were in the other day and saw a hall tree. We came by to take another look,” the woman said. “We’ll let you know if we need help.”
Cassie smiled and nodded.
“Everything okay out there?” The boss poked out her head.
Cassie flashed a thumbs-up.
“Okay. Yell, if you need—you know what I mean!” She ducked inside.
Cassie chuckled, her tinkling laugh light and bright.
If she could produce sound, why couldn’t she speak?
She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze darting at her cart and then at him.
“You need to get to work,” he guessed. “Can I talk to you while you work?”
She nodded and held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. She dashed into the back room.
“He’s handsome. I think he likes you!” he overheard the older woman say.
He’s being nice. Cassie’s broadcasted thought drifted into his head. He immediately threw up a barricade, although he wished to know more. Did she like him? Or was she just being nice?
Her face pink, Cassie wheeled out a loaded second cart. The boss lady followed and set a tall urn on a table with spindly legs.
The couple approached them. “The oak hall tree in the corner—is that your best price?” the man asked.
“I got this. Go talk to your man friend,” boss lady said.
Cassie ducked her head, pushed the cart toward a long sideboard, and began to rearrange the display.
“Should I push this one over there, too?” He gestured to the other cart.
She nodded and placed a lacquered box between two candlesticks on the sideboard. He moved the cart over to her, leaned in, and said in a low voice, “She’s not wrong.”
Cassie peered up at him, her brow arching with a question.
“I do like you,” he said. “Maybe when you’re not working, we could go somewhere together?”
She blinked as color seeped into her face. Her lips parted and closed. She grabbed her notebook. Her pen poised over the paper, and then she scribbled, I would like that.
He grinned from ear to ear. “Have you been to Lavender Bliss Farm?”
She shook her head.
“Friends of mine own it. It has many nice hiking trails. Maybe you’d like to go there?”
She nodded and smiled.
“I need to tell you something though.” He eyed the people in the shop.
After haggling over the price, the parties arrived at an agreement, and the couple paid for their purchase. The boss lady wheeled out a hand truck, and the man scooted the hall tree onto it. Holding the door open for the couple, the store owner winked at Psy before following them out to the street.
The door swung shut, leaving him and Cassie alone.
“I’m not human. I’m a Verital from planet ’Topia.”
She chuckled.
“I’m serious. I really am an alien.”
Her amusement vanished, and angry tears sprang to her green eyes. Do you think I’m stupid? Play a joke on the poor mute girl? she accused and stomped away.
“Wait, please!” He grabbed her arm.
She wrenched away, grunted her fury, and scribbled, Don’t touch me! Get lost!
“I can prove it,” he said.
Chapter Three
Alien? Try asshole. Psy had seemed like such a nice guy—a hot, sexy guy—and then he pulled this stunt. Cassie may have lacked experience with men, but she wasn’t stupid. Either he’d mistaken her for an easy mark, or he was nuts.
I can prove it, he’d said.
How? By morphing into a bug-eyed green man with three heads? She crossed her arms and glowered. She could deal with customers who shouted like she was deaf and a mother who smothered her with concern, but, for some inexplicable reason, his mockery hurt more than it should.
Through the window, she spied Verna helping the couple load the hall tree into their SUV. Her normally astute boss had been fooled, too. He likes you, she’d said. Yeah, right.
“Please.” His apologetic, beseeching expression pissed her off all the more for its seeming sincerity. Having spent a lot of time listening and observing, she could read nuances in tone and body language. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he believed his own lies.
The hall tree had been loaded and bungeed into the vehicle, and now Verna had engaged the couple in conversation, stalling to give her and Psy time to be alone. No doubt her boss figured she was doing her a favor.
So let the lunatic pretend to turn himself into an alien. She shrugged one shoulder and then wrote, Go ahead.
He held out his hands, palms up. “I’ll need to touch your head.”
Her stomach fluttered at the idea of contact, which ignited a fresh spate of fury. The jerk still attracted her. It’s just because he’s the first man in forever to show an interest.
She loved Argent’s charm, but a small town was not a great place to meet men. She could count the number of eligible bachelors on two fingers, and V did not stand for victory. There was Gus, the eighty-five-year-old widower who owned the bait shop, and thirty-something Bruce who’d recently split from his boyfriend.
She dropped her arms to her sides and nodded her permission.
Psy stepped close, and every cell in her body tingled. His gaze sought hers. She pressed her lips together and scowled. Fingers splayed, he placed his hands just over her ears, his thumbs brushing her forehead.
Her heart thumped, and her breathing quickened. His masculine scent, a mix of leather and cloves, drifted over her. He shouldn’t smell so good.