“That’s a good question. A better question is, why are you bothering to wear an apron if you’re naked?”
Oh. “Like what you see?” I say, clearing my throat before turning around to give her my best smile. I suppose mooning her isn’t the best idea, even if it’s for a good cause.
Full-on belly laughs erupt out of Addy. I hear a hedgehog sneeze from the bedroom, indicating she startled at least one of them awake, which is amusing considering my roaring her name didn’t seem to disturb them. “Yes, I do,” she says once she can breathe better. “But I do think naked apron wearing isn’t really a thing.” She holds a hand to her stomach as she catches her breath. Lips pursed, trying to keep another laugh back.
“Some might say it’s rude to laugh at one’s…sex buddy…” I say, hands on my hips, cringing at the words. I almost let fated mates slip out from between my lips. I’m not a believer in fated mates. But the phrase has rolled around in my mind this evening. Is this what finding your fated mate feels like—like the sun has risen for the first time?
“Some might say it’s rude to jump up after giving your…sex buddy the most amazing orgasm of her life, to go…what? Cook on the back porch? Was that an offering to the solstice Santa?”
At that, I snort. “You saw?” I have to ignore the flush of embarrassment as she throws my words back at me. But what are we? Accidental sex friends? Kidnapping boink buddies? That at least has more alliteration.
Addy nods, even as she pats the floor next to me, inviting me to sit my naked ass next to hers. “We need to displace the hedgehogs,” I grumble. She tsks and extends the quilt and spreads it over my shoulders, making us a tiny cocoon. It’s nice.
“It’s solstice tradition—at midnight we start the boar cooking for a feast.”
“We?” Her voice is small, a little insecure. A reminder that we know nothing about each other.
“My family. But I’m the last of my family. It’s the one sentimental thing I do all year. Normally, I split the food up and share it with the neighbors, or my co-workers. But this year I thought, maybe you’d join me?”
“I’d be honored,” she says without hesitation, her voice thick with emotion, reflecting what my insides feel. I’ve never invited anyone to join me before. Since my folks died, it’s just been me. And I like it that way. The solitude to think, reminisce, with no one about to see any emotions I might demonstrate. Gods, I hate having emotions.
After a few minutes, once my heart has stopped pounding to escape my body at my audacity of asking her to stay, I have a plan.
“Well, if we’re going to get a Christmas tree and have a solstice feast, we’d better rest. And that means displacing the hedgehogs.” I get to my feet, noting the chill of my shoulder—not the one with the blanket, but the one where her head no longerrests on me. This is dangerous. I can feel myself getting too used to her, her presence, scent, love, way too fast.
I’m not sure I object.
Clothes on, because hedgehogs have claws. I’ve got a big box lined with towels. And I put their favorite treats inside—mealworms and crickets.
“You keep crickets and mealworms? You really do like the Quill family. Wow.”
“Don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you’d do the same.”
“Yes. Of course. But I’m not a surly, quiet orc who kidnaps innocent women from the Winter Solstice Festival.”
“Kid—innoce—what?”
Her laughter lights me up from the inside out. There’s nothing I want more than to hear that laugh every day. She puts her hand on my arm as she chuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to touch me. A casual touch, something she does every day. Strangely, that feels more monumental than sex in front of the fire. Like we’re a pair.
“I’m just messing with you. Let’s clear out the hedgehogs so you can sleep.” Still smiling, she rubs her eyes. Yes, it’s time to rest for us both.
Two hedgehogs stay asleep as I carefully lift them from the nest they’ve made in my bed and set them carefully into the box.The other two eye me suspiciously, but after smelling the food, they are happy to scuttle into the box themselves.
Hedgehogs safe in the corner, I remake the bed with fresh flannel sheets and blankets. Addy helps, and again, it’s the most natural thing in the world, like we always make the bed together.
Addy flops down, sending essence of Addy to my nostrils, making me sigh in sweet happiness.
“If you’re tucked in okay, I’ll sleep out on the sofa.”
“You’ll do no such thing! You, dear Leif, are sleeping right here, next to me.” She says it with a finality that makes me want to purr like a damned cat.
“If you insist.”
“Absolutely.”
“Good, I kick, so watch out.”
Chapter 10
