Page 37 of Love, Legacy, and Little Green Aliens

“Good call. Though you might add a rack of books on UFOs.”

His grin flattened. “No thank you.”

Clearly, this was going to require more finesse. How to convince him the shop’s reputation with UFO believers was an asset, not a liability?

Nabila bustled over with two foil-wrapped pitas stuffed with crispy meat, shredded cabbage, pickled onions, and oozing with garlicky yogurt sauce. She wiped her hands on her apron, then seized Xander in a tight hug. Hannah wasn’t sure whether his goggle-eyed expression came from surprise or the strength of Nabila’s squeeze.

“Oh, hon. Mo and I are so sorry about your uncle. Aren’t we, Mo?” she bellowed over her shoulder.

Mo nodded solemnly from behind the counter. “Gus was a good man. A little touched in the head, but still—” He thumped his chest. “Heart of gold, that guy.”

Nabila released Xander and scowled at her husband. “You hush. So what if he believed in little green visitors from outer space? We don’t know what’s out there. Or are you an expert in astronomy now?”

Mo shrugged and commenced wiping down the counter.

“Heck,” Nabila confided, her eyes twinkling, “half the time, he doesn’t even know where his keys are.” She squeezed Hannah in a side hug. “You kids enjoy. Hope you got somewhere warm to snuggle tonight. It’s gonna blow but good.” She winked, flipped her dish towel over her shoulder, and sashayed back behind the counter.

Xander chuckled, a deep, enticing sound she yearned to feel rumbling against her cheek. Which was not a helpful thought at this moment.

He brought another fry to his lips. “Does she think we’re spending the night together?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Side effect of small-town living. The older generation are die-hard matchmakers. If you’re not paired up by thirty, look out.”

“Older generation?” He arched an eyebrow. “You and I aren’t exactly spring chickens.”

“You’re younger than me, so bawk bawk.” She lifted her napkin. “Here, you’ve got a smudge.” He really did. It wasn’t just an excuse to stroke the dark scruff on his dimpled chin.

He seized her hand. “You’re forty, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“I’ll turn forty April fourth, so bawk bawk right back atcha.”

“Interesting.” She pulled out her phone and typed a quick note. “That makes you a…” She did a quick calculation. “An Aries, right?”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff too. Do you write the paper’s astrology column?”

“No, that would be Zora’s job.” She lifted her shoulder. “But I’m not so arrogant as to think I know all about how the universe works.”

Up flew both his glossy eyebrows. “Arrogant, am I?”

“Well, you’re mighty quick to label UFOs as bullshit, even if selling alien toys and mugs and T-shirts kept your uncle afloat all these years and made his customers happy. Even if UFO believers are willing to travel intoourlittle town to visit the shop. And you know damn well they always leave withyourmerchandise. But nooo.” She dragged a fry through the garlic sauce on her plate. “Can’t hang onto something that’s working incredibly well. It’s too embarrassing. What will the family think?”

Xander went stone quiet, his gaze focused on the napkin dispenser between them.

I’ve gone too far. Way to kick a man when he’s down, smart-ass.

Regret flooded her, souring her stomach. She reached for his tightly clasped hands. “Xander.”

He jerked them away.

She gentled her voice. “I’m sorry. I was completely out of line, especially when you’re grieving. Please know that I loved Gus too. We all did. He was—”

“A legend, it seems. A dead broke, mentally ill legend.”

“Mentally ill?” she squeaked, drawing stares from the other customers. Damn it, she had to get through to him, whether he liked it or not.

She seized his wrist. “Believing in something that hasn’t been proved yet means you’re crazy? How about people who believe in God? Are they certifiable too?”