Hannah arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t tried them yet.”
“I can smell them. Taste them.”
“He’s wearing them on his nose,” the clerk accused. “And he opened all the packaging. I told him not to, but he didn’t listen at all.”
Player looked at Preacher’s face. He was wearing an expression he’d never seen before, almost fanatical, definitely passionate, and sure enough, the clerk was right, the end of his nose was a shade of purple that shimmered in the light. Player pulled out his cell phone and took a quick shot of Preacher’s nose. Preacher didn’t even notice. His total concentration was on Hannah.
“You’re freaking her out, bro,” Player said, putting his phone away. “He’s harmless, Hannah. He’s really into this kind of thing, and no one understands a word he says, so coming in here, he’s probably in seventh heaven. You’re some kind of goddess to him.”
“Not some kind of goddess,” Preacher denied. “The goddess. There’s only a handful of people in the world that could do this without a company surrounding them, and I don’t see a company around you. You do this solo, don’t you? You grow everything, and you handpick your ingredients and then you make the lotion up or the cream or the candle for your store or your client.”
The clerk relaxed, but Preacher seemed to forget he had his hand on her head. He remained, his arm outstretched, holding her in place while he stared at Hannah with admiration.
“Actually, Mr. . . .”
“Preacher. Call me Preacher.”
The clerk made a rude noise, drawing Preacher’s attention. “Of course you’re called Preacher. I’ll bet you preach to everyone.”
Hannah took the opportunity to put her hands on Player’s arm to show him the penetrating technique she wanted him to use with the cream. Not a circular motion this time but more of a deep tissue massage.
“Again, start with the soles of the feet. You might have to work up to a deeper massage if it’s too painful at first. I doubt that it will be. She has an affinity with the earth, so the aches are always going to be there. This will help with that tremendously. It will also establish an intimacy between the two of you if you can get her to allow you to do this for her after she’s been working all day.”
Preacher glared at the clerk, his fist closing even tighter in the thick wealth of black hair. “Someone needs to preach to you from the good book of manners. I’m trying to get some answers here—important ones, which you wouldn’t know a thing about. Why you’re working in this shop, I have no idea. You’d be better suited to the toy store down the street.”
The clerk tried to kick him just as the door was flung open and Jonas burst in, gun drawn, a look of fury on his face. His blue gaze took in everything, including his wife’s hands massaging Player’s arm, the clerk kicking at Preacher and Preacher’s hand buried deep in the clerk’s hair. Player could imagine what it looked like with so many of the bath bombs, soaps, lotions and creams strewn across the table, along with the large basket. He shook his head and resigned himself to going to jail at the very least. The worst was, Jonas might really shoot him, since his wife had her hands all over him.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jonas demanded.
“Go away, Jonas,” Preacher said. “I mean it. The last thing I need is for you to come in here and make this more difficult. And take this horrid little fairy creature with you. If you don’t, I’m going to have to tie her up and put her in the back room with a gag on her.”
“Preacher, I swear I’m going to shoot you,” Jonas said. “Let go of Sabelia right now, and Hannah, it would be best if you stop massaging Player’s arm.”
“Put the gun away,” Hannah said.
“Go away,” Preacher repeated simultaneously with Hannah.
Hannah burst out laughing, the sound filling the shop with genuine merriment. At once the mood seemed to change dramatically. The sun seemed to shine brighter.
“I’m not putting the gun away, Hannah, until you stop massaging Player’s arm.”
“I’m working,” she clarified. “What are you doing here?”
Player would have liked to pull his arm out from under Hannah’s hands. That gun hadn’t wavered, not one inch, steady as a rock, and it wasn’t pointed at Preacher, which technically wasn’t in the least bit fair. He was the one with his fist locked in the clerk, Sabelia’s, hair. That should have gotten him the gun.
“Just what kind of work are you doing, Hannah?” Jonas demanded.
“Jonas,” Preacher hissed through gritted teeth. “Leave now and take this . . . this person with you. You may not be aware, but your wife just happens to be a genius. A true genius. A fuckin’ goddess. I need to talk to her without interruption. Take Player with you, even if you have to remove him at gunpoint. Take everyone, but just leave.”