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No smile greeted me as we separated. Yes, things were wrong. I couldn’t articulate why, not yet.
I paused by my front door and took one last look at Stefan in his car. He waited for me to enter, making sure I was safe. The moment the door opened, he started the car. He seemed impatient to be away and the exhaust spluttered as he revved the engine.
Gefährliche Fuchs. I had some translating to do.
Chapter Six
I didn’t have an English–German dictionary to translate Stefan’s elusive description of himself. Fortunately, Talia spoke a little German. I asked her, when she turned up at teatime and we bumped into each other in the kitchen.
“In German, what does gefarlish fucks mean?” His precise pronunciation slipped my mind.
Talia giggled. “Fucks. I think you know that word.”
I poured hot water into my mug of coffee. “Fuxs, then.” I stirred the instant powder and watched it swirl into the milk.
“Who said it to you? Why not ask them?” She opened a cupboard door then rooted around.
“I don’t think he wants me to know.”
“He?” She pirouetted on the tips of her toes to face me. “Tell, Callie. You have a new man in your life. Tell.”
I groaned. She wouldn’t rest until she’d found out more. “Stefan. He’s the conductor of our sinfonia. Taken over from Felix, who’s really sick. Stefan is half German.”
“Ah.” She covered a grin with a hand. “Sorry. He called you a dangerous fox.”
Dangerous fox. “No… He meant… It doesn’t matter.” I stumbled over my words. He’d called me his mouse. His little mouse. Yet, he thought of himself as my predator—a dangerous, cunning carnivore who hunted at night. No wonder he hadn’t translated it.
Talia shrugged. A slow smile opened up on her usually stiff face. “Conductor. You’ve only been back two weeks and you’ve ended up in his bed. Impressive moves.”
I flushed and slammed the teaspoon on the worktop with a clatter. “How do you know?” I daren’t pick up the mug, fearful that I might spill it with my shaking hands.
“You are all…” She fumbled.
I waited for her to translate from Polish to English.
“Embarrassed. Yes? Pink cheeks.” She pointed at my face.
Damn her. She looked so indifferent and I sometimes underestimated her intuition. I hunched over my mug.
“What is wrong?” Her voice softened and she reached out to touch my sleeve.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.” She gently squeezed my arm. “Um?”
“We fucked all day yesterday,” I blurted.
She let go and gave me a little applause. “Wow, lucky girl.”
I rounded on her, exasperated by her lack of understanding. “I know next to nothing about him, then he tells me he’s this dangerous fox. It’s a warning. I know it is. Yet, I can’t stop bloody thinking about him—wanting him.” I buried my face in the palm of my hand. The previous day had emotionally drained me. Even after a day’s work, I remained edgy and friable, like a delicate piece of china.
“Oh goodness,” Talia said. “You have been bitten.”
Bitten. Chomped. Chewed. Was I going to be spewed out too? Foxes didn’t play nicely with their prey.
* * * *
He texted me on Tuesday while I manned the shop. A quick ‘how’s my little mouse?’ message. I worked the miniature keyboard with my thumbs and I hesitated, wondering if I should reveal my translation. He’d told me to look it up.
