“That is what the human women call Women’s Winter.”
“Women’s Winter?”
“That’s when the temperatures outside skyrocket, so the men set the internal temperatures to frigid. And the women freeze.”
She certainly felt like she was freezing. Little bumps had pebbled up all over her skin.
“Monty, do you have any idea how I wound up in Finn’s bed?”
“Seeing as he was asleep in the living room this morning when I came out to look for Check—a snack …” thepelican caught himself “… I would assume he did the thing every swoon-worthy romantic lead would do. He carried you to bed.”
She went ahead and ignored the way her chest warmed, and her belly swooped at the idea of that.
Too many romance novels, giving her subconscious all sorts of silly ideas.
“I can’t believe I have to tell you this again, but you can’teatFinn’s cat.”
“I haven’t touched him,” Monty declared, but the way the cat hissed at the pelican when he looked over told Iris all she needed to know.
“Didn’t you eat enough last night?” she asked. Her mind wandered back to all those foreign meals and the pleasant explosion of strange new tastes and textures across her tongue. She’d particularly enjoyed the pizza and fries, even if Monty declared they were ‘very bad’ for them.
“Apparently not,” another voice said as the apartment door closed. “Because he had me order break—”
Finn broke off with a choked sound as he came into the kitchen and his gaze landed on her.
His whole body language had changed.
He’d gone from uncharacteristically relaxed to ramrod straight, his shoulders spread, chest broad, and his pupils blown wide in a blink.
Her own gaze moved down, confused by his reaction.
That was when she remembered what Henry had said about the camisole. That they were for being wornunderother tops. To ‘protect her modesty.’
At the time, she hadn’t understood his meaning. But in the freezing apartment, her nipples had hardened into points that pressed against the tight material.
Her gaze flicked back to Finn, finding his lips slightly parted, his breath coming quick and shallow.
When she took a breath, making her breasts press even harder against the material, an almost pained sound escaped him.
For a moment, she was helpless but to follow the urge to track her eyes down his body as well.
Gone was his stuffy suit. In its place was a white T-shirt that hugged his toned body and showed off surprisingly strong arms. His pants were different, too. They were a flowing gray material that showed off his outlines.
One outline in particular.
Surprised by the tightening of need in her core, her gaze shot back up to his face just a second before he forced his to rise as well.
“Iris, my sweet, innocent, adorably naive little mergirl,” Monty—who’d likely witnessed the entire encounter with his sharp eye for details—started. “Remember how we discussed needing another layer of clothing? I’m partial to a flowing evening gown, but I suppose a sweater would suffice.”
“Oh, right. Yes, he did … Henry mentioned that,” Iris said. She was suddenly too aware of her own body, finding herself almost … uncomfortable with it. That was a first. And the swirling sensation in her stomach was not a welcome one. “I forgot. I, uh, I will change …”
“Wait,” Finn said. His voice was choked, making him clear his throat before continuing. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t change. This is your home now too. You should be in whatever makes you comfortable.”
“For goodness’ sake, Mister Mayor, sir,” Monty said, eyes bugging. “Don’t say that to her. What is most natural to a mermaid is near nothing at all.”
“I’m not a fool, Monty,” Iris said, feelings bruised. “I know humans have to wear clothing.”
“Iris, don’t worry about it. You look … fine.”