Leaving the pub now. No Kelpies spotted. Yet.
His reply came lessthan a minute later.
Good. Come home.
Ridiculoushow two words on a screen could make my stomach do somersaults. Home. With Torin.
The buildings of Loren Brae were bathed in late-afternoon light, the leaves gilded, the loch beyond glinting like someone had spilled a box of glitter across the surface of the water.
Turning the music up, just so I could ignore a Kelpie’s scream if one happened to burst out of the gilded water, I sang at the top of my lungs all the way home until I turned the car into the drive and promptly forgot how to breathe. I parked the car quickly and turned the engine off, cracking open the door, because I dearly needed the icy air to bring me back to life.
Torin was in the clearing by the side of the house, splitting logs.
Shirtless.
Sweat slicked his chest and shoulders, muscles flexing as he swung the axe in a clean arc. The wood cracked with a satisfying thud, falling neatly to either side of the chopping block. His jeans rode low on his hips, his muscles rippled, and the whole scene looked like one of those thirst-trap lumberjack calendars come enticingly, beautifully, to life.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “You are a mature, composed adult. You are not going to climb him like a tree.”
Bracken dropped onto the bonnet of my car with a thump, making me jump. He peered through the windscreen at me, whiskers twitching.
“Careful there, lass,”he said.“Your eyes are about to fall out of your head.”
I squeaked and slapped a hand to my chest. “You can’t just appear like that.”
“Tell that to your thoughts.”He snorted.“They just appeared straight in the gutter.”
“Shut up,” I hissed, grabbing my bag.
As I climbed out of the car, Torin straightened, wiping the back of his wrist across his forehead. He spotted me and smiled, slow and wicked.
“Welcome home,” he called.
My brain short-circuited. “Hi,” I managed, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.
He set the axe down, leaning on it with one hand. “Shift go all right?”
“Fine,” I said, then cleared my throat. “Good. Busy. Z came by with Mitch to say hello. I only broke one glass, so that’s like a personal record.”
He chuckled, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin tingle. “Good.” He nodded, then straightened fully, the movement making every muscle in his torso shift and flex like some cruel, deliberate show. “You’re staring, Liora.”
“I am not,” I lied, badly.
His mouth curved. “You are. I’m not complaining, mind you.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. I dropped my gaze, suddenly very interested in the state of my trainers. “It’s your fault for being …all…that.”
“All what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he walked toward me, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to ruin me.
“Torin,” I warned.
He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could see a bead of sweat slide from his collarbone down the center of his chest. My imagination happily followed its path.
“I asked you a question, wood nymph,” he murmured. “What am I?”
“Annoying,” I said weakly. “And…obscenely fit.”
His smile turned smug. “There it is.”