Truth spell or not, there was no way I could hide what came out next. “I like you in my bed.”
Her head popped up, eyes wide. Then she laughed. “I like me in your bed, too.”
Bracken chittered loudly and jumped to the floor, scampering out of the room as if he’d seen far more than he wanted.
“Your familiar doesn’t approve,” I said dryly.
“He can lodge a formal complaint later,” she said. “I’m busy.”
She kissed me—soft and sweet, and if we weren’t careful we were going to be late for… well, for life.
“I’ve got work.” Reluctantly, I pulled back.
She sighed dramatically. “Responsibilities. How rude.”
Real life. Except none of this felt like the life I’d had before. Everything had color now. Liora had done that. Bringing laughter and crystals and flowers and, well, joy into my house.
I cleared my throat, I really needed to calm down. It had been just over aweeksince she’d arrived. “Come on then. I’ll make breakfast.”
“You’re very bossy,” she muttered, rolling out of bed and nearly tripping on my socks.
I watched her pad toward the bathroom, hair wild, my T-shirt riding up on the smooth curve of her generous bum.
Steadfast Taurus, my arse. I was a goner.
The week slid into a rhythm so smoothly it scared me.
Mornings, she’d pad around the kitchen half asleep while I made tea and eggs, Bracken perched on a cabinet like quality control. Liora would ramble about her dreams, or things she’d read about in her gran’s book, or some podcast she’d half-listened to about emotional wounds and inner children.
I could listen to her talk about anything. Her voice was soothing and melodic, and the noise of her filled the empty spaces in my heart.
Evenings, she’d curl up on the couch with her laptop and notes, asking my opinion on things I knew nothing about… like if the Kelpies were made of water, would they freeze in winter and go dormant?
I still worried, desperately, about the Kelpies, but I wasn’t sure who I could talk to about my concerns. Maybe I could catch Graham on a slower day and have a quiet chat, because Liora had told me that he knew what was going on in Loren Brae. I supposed most people did, even if it wasn’t a very public topic of conversation.
I’d just come to realize that my conversation skills, in general, had grown rusty. I’d been spending too much time withmy trees, and not with my community. Something that Liora seemed hell-bent on changing.
“Do you think we should have a party?” she asked one night, chewing on the end of a pen while she scribbled in a notebook.
I almost choked.
“A party … for what?”
“I don’t know. Just to, you know, hang out with people?”
I looked at her, askance, and she burst out laughing when she glanced up at me.
“Right, I’ll need to ease you into that idea.”
Little did she know that I’d give her anything she wanted, she only had to ask.
We had small moments like that all week, and each one lodged under my skin.
Wednesday morning, I came inside, logs in my arms to stack by the fire, and found her at the kitchen table, frowning at her laptop. Her hair was in a messy bun and she tapped a pen against her teeth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting the basket down.
She chewed on her thumbnail. “Greta just emailed. She got her first order. From someone she doesn’t even know. I’m so proud I could pop.”