Ansel is already running for the cart that arrived to pick him up. Rowan perches on a signpost just under the eaves of the building, waiting for us.
A few minutes later, a groom arrives with Ash’s horse and cabriolet. He’s raised the cover, preparing the small carriage for a soggy ride home.
I open my purse for Rowan. “Want a ride? Just until we’re inside?”
Ash snorts, making Rowan bristle.
“I’m fine,” the owl says stoically.
“Suit yourself.”
It’s not very far to the cart, and it’s not raining as hard as it was in Albany.
Ash tips the groom and offers me his hand.
Once I’m in my seat, I watch him jog around the front, quickly greeting his horse. Rowan, wet, flies onto my lap and lands on my purse.
“Ew,” I say, tempted to shove him away. “This is why you should have let me carry you in my purse.”
“You’re already wet,” he points out. “What difference does a little more rainwater make?”
It’s not worth arguing about, so I don’t bother to respond.
When we reach my cottage, Ash turns to me, his eyes roving over my face. “How about you take the bird inside and then come over to my house for a while? I’ll make you dinner.”
“Thebird?” Rowan demands.
“I’d like that,” I say to Ash, ignoring Rowan.
“The bird can take himself inside, thank you,” Rowan huffs, flying out of the cabriolet and toward the back of the cottage.
Ash coaxes the horse forward, driving toward his property.
I clasp my hands in my lap, nervous because he’s never invited me over before. It seems like a significant step in our relationship.
Does this mean wehavea relationship? Are we a couple now?
I’m not sure how all this works. I was well on my way to becoming a pixie spinster before I moved to Moss Hollow. I just needed to adopt a few cats.
Though, technically, Chester isn’t far from one.
We continue down the lane. Once we leave my property, the trees open up to a fenced pasture. Ash’s house sits in the middle of it, surrounded by a moat of rock and shrubs. It looks like a landscape architect decorated it, focusing on making it low-maintenance and visually appealing. Ash has no flowers, no yard decor, and certainly no weeds.
A small white barn stands toward the back of the property, at the edge of the cleared land. Just like the house, it appears to have been recently painted.
Ash stops near his front door. “I’ll let you inside, so you can stay out of the weather while I take care of the horse.”
Together, we walk to the door. Forgoing a key, he types a code into the lock.
“What is it?” he asks when I laugh to myself.
“You’re such a conundrum,” I answer. “You say you don’t mind driving your horse and cart around town, but you have an electronic keypad on your door. You order your groceries with an app, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I were to walk into your living room and find a sixty-inch flat screen TV fixed to your wall.”
Ash smiles to himself, pushing the door open.
The house is large and well-maintained, but it’s not ostentatious. A plush rug covers the hardwood in the small entry. There’s also a hall tree for jackets and a stand for the umbrella he probably should have taken with him this morning.
He leads me into the living room, gesturing to the wall. “It’s an eighty-six-inch flat screen.”
