“Oh no.” I covered my face with my hands and pretended to hide. “Not this guy.”
“Hey, now. Hey. We’re friends, right?” He cackled with delight. “How you been?”
Lowering my hands before the agents got the wrong idea, I smiled up at Old Man Jenkins. “Good. You?”
“Not dead yet.” He reached in a pocket and pulled out a glass bottle. “You cured me.”
The tincture blended elderberry, horehound, ginger root, cinnamon stick, and star anise.
A tasty cure for the common cold. No magic required.
“Let me know if you need more.” I curled his hand over the bottle. “I keep plenty on hand.”
“You’re too good to me.” He staggered back, noticing the agents. “Hey, now. Hey. Who are you?”
“They’re friends.” I indicated the mountain of food. “They’re just passing through.”
“Hmph.” He narrowed his rheumy eyes at Asa and then Clay. “You best treat her right.”
Unable to help myself, I leaned closer. “Mrs. Gleason shot Clay here in the butt.”
“Ha.” He slapped his thigh. “God love that woman. God love you too, Miss Hollis.”
Laughing under his breath, he shuffle-stepped off to his usual table with a wide grin.
Crunching through a piece of bacon, Clay chewed thoughtfully. “Your friend didn’t ask about my health.”
“You’re here, sitting and eating. As far as he’s concerned, that means you’re fine.”
“You haven’t accepted payment for any of the teas or tinctures you’ve given to your neighbors.”
Leave it to Asa to notice. “How would you know?”
Without answering, he dipped his chin and took a bite of my pancakes.
“How do you earn a living?” Clay shoved a blueberry muffin in his mouth. “This town is itty-bitty.”
“I hunt unicorns under the full moon, saw off their horns, and grind them to powder I sell online.”
As far as hair bows go, Colby giggle-snorted way too much to pass for the real thing.
“Her store.” Asa bit into my bacon while holding my gaze. “It’s remarkable.”
The natural redness in my cheeks kept my blush from showing, but I got the sense he read me just fine.
“Believe it or not, the apothecary pulls its own weight. Lotions, hand soaps, bodywashes, lip balms. Teas, oils, tinctures, poultices. All made using family recipes that are at least as old as you are, Clay.” I sipped a little OJ. “I might employ the use of secret ingredients here and there, but I do no harm.”
A shift of Clay’s hips as he located his cell caused his side of the booth to groan for mercy.
“Dam—” He bit off the curse with a blush. “Darn it.” He threw money on the table. “I have to go.”
“Have fun.” I added enough cash to cover my meal plus a tip. “Try not to get shot.” I smiled. “Again.”
Asa picked my contribution off the pile, pushed the folded bills back to me, then added his own.
Uncertain what was happening, I broke down and asked him, “What are you doing?”
“I ate the food.” He indicated his clean plate. “The least I can do is pay for it.”