He was miserable. He could temporarily alter his appearance, but he couldn’t change what he was: Xeno. Not of her world, not long to remain in her world since they’d gotten a strong lead on fixing the Castaway.
Kevanne and the customer chatted about lavender. This was a good time to leave.
He stepped into the aisle and strode away.
* * * *
Sales had been steady all morning, although they couldn’t compare to the vendor’s across the aisle. His realistic paintings of the Milky Way had been flying off the metal grid wall of his booth. Of all the stalls in the building, why did she have to be located by him? His artwork of outer space reminded her of Cam. She wondered if one of the planets depicted was the one he’d come from. She was appalled at how she’d reacted. He’d never, ever given her reason to fear he would harm her in any way, and yet she’d freaked out and hurt his feelings. Four days had passed since she’d ordered him out of her house without his clothes, without payment for the work he’d done for her.
She had no way to reach him to apologize. He didn’t have a phone—at least he’d never given her a number.
Every time she drove by the billboard, it was like a dagger through her heart. After the spring fling, she intended to look for his ship, certain now the meteorite had been his spacecraft.
A tingling between her shoulder blades gave her the uncomfortable sense she was being watched. Flexing her shoulders, she scanned the crowd, her gaze skipping over the Milky Way booth then darting back to the tall blond man standing next to it. Something about his posture, the way he held his head reminded her of Cam, but he didn’t look at all like the billboard model.
What if it is him? Cam can change his form. What if he came to see me? Her heart raced. I should go over there. Talk to him. Find out.
What if it’s not him?
What if it is? What if he came, but he’s afraid to talk to me after all the horrible things I said?
She was forestalled from making a decision when a customer entered her booth. “Do you make all your own oils and lotions?”
Kevanne forced a friendly smile. “Yes, I do. I grow my own lavender, too. I own Lavender Bliss Farm outside of Argent. Here, try a sample.” She turned her back to the aisle and showed the woman the lotion tester.
The woman applied lotion to her hand and sniffed. “Ooh! This is nice.”
But after sampling everything in the booth, she left without buying anything, and when Kevanne turned around, the blond man had disappeared.
The man wasn’t Cam. He reminded her of him—and he shouldn’t. He looked nothing like him.
Except for the similar height. How many men in Argent were that tall?
None.
However, the spring fling had drawn crowds from Coeur d’Alene and Spokane. There were plenty of tall men around today.
It wasn’t Cam. Couldn’t be. After the way she’d treated him, he’d never want to see her again. If he’d taken the trouble to come to the spring fling, he would have spoken to her.
I should make sure.
I can’t leave my booth unattended. And it’s not him. It would be pointless and embarrassing to accost a stranger.
She grabbed her cash box from under the counter and dove into the throng.
“Excuse me, excuse me! Sorry!” Keeping the blond head in sight, she wove through the people.
She caught up with the man and grabbed his arm. “Cam! Cam, wait!”
“Excuse me?” He turned around. The eyes, the chin, the nose, the mouth were all wrong. Not only was he not Cam, he wasn’t the man who’d been standing across the aisle!
She dropped her hand. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were somebody…I knew. Sorry.” She fled back to her booth.
Two women were sampling lotions. Kevanne sniffed back tears and forced herself to greet the customers. “Hello! Welcome to Lavender Bliss Farm.” I lost him. Again.
Chapter Eleven
“Cam! Cam, wait!”
Chameleon had turned the corner, heading away from Kevanne’s aisle when he heard his name, well, the name Kevanne called him. His heart leapt. He whipped around to see her grab the arm of a blond man.
A funny feeling curled in his stomach at the sight of her touching another man, but then she dropped her hand, her face blushed red, and she practically ran back to her booth.
She thought he was me. She came after me!
Elation skyrocketed until the gravity of the situation grounded him. Nothing had changed. She was still human; he was still Xeno. The Castaway would be fixed, and they would leave Earth. Her future remained here, growing and selling lavender. His was among the stars, finding the ’Topian refugees and ensuring their safety and that Shadow had a chance to survive by finding a mate. He needed to walk out the door and leave Argent. They had no future. Spending any more time with her would be pointless and only lead to heartache.
She came for me.
He shouldered his way through the crowd.
Two women were in her booth, rubbing lavender oil on their wrists.
“Now that I have my own farm, I plan to use organic growing methods,” Kevanne was saying.
He wished the people here would go away! Give him ten minutes! He huffed in frustration.
Kevanne’s head jerked, and she did a double take. The hope lighting her face sent his spirits soaring. “C-Cam?”
“Yes,” he said.
He had to wait until the women finished smelling and sampling damn near everything in the booth. Finally they bought some oil and tea. As soon as they left, he planted himself in the center of the entrance to deter anyone else from entering.
“You’ve changed,” she said.
She looked the same. Beautiful. “I figured I would be too recognizable as the man from the billboard.” He twisted his mouth. “That wasn’t the best choice.”
“I’m so, so sorry about how I reacted. I—I have no excuse for how I behaved.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I had no way to contact you to tell you how sorry I am. I still have your clothes and your money. I never paid you for the work you did.”
“For flooding your kitchen?” That’s why she’d wanted to see him? To pay him? Give him back his clothes? “Keep them.” He didn’t need money now and particularly not hers.
In four days, the castaways’ financial situation had changed. The Intergalactic Dating Agency had put them in touch with a wealthy tech magnate and investment banker named Edwin Mysk, who funded space travel and exploration projects. Mysk had jumped at the chance to bankroll the spacecraft repair in exchange for the opportunity to learn from them. The repairs wouldn’t happen overnight because 3D printers—Earth’s primitive version of a replicator—still needed to be designed and built and some factories had to be retooled, but their departure would occur sooner rather than later now.
Mysk, who’d expressed interest at the start, was all in once they’d revealed themselves. He hadn’t recoiled at the sight of Tigre’s striped face, Wingman’s wings, Inferno’s red skin and horns, or Cam’s transformation to blue-scaled Xeno.
She peered up at him. “Can I see you again? I mean, will you show yourself to me?”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” he said tightly.