His eyes narrow. “And by that, you mean Rowan.”
“I need to turn him back, Ash. The guilt is starting to eat at me.”
“What guilt?”
“That I’m here, with you…and he’s stuck at home with only a wooden swing for entertainment. He must be going out of his mind.”
“He made his bed.”
“He did. But for whatever reason, Laverna chose me to help him out of it.”
Ash sighs. “I don’t like it.”
“I know,” I say gently, hoping acknowledging it will at least help a little.
He steps back, nodding toward the door. “Go on then.”
I hesitate, torn between duty and pleasure.
“I expect you’ll be at your shop tomorrow?” he asks when he sees me lingering.
“I will.”
“Good.” He leans down, brushing a chaste kiss over my lips. “I’ll see you then.”
And because I’m pathetic, I ask, “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he says on a sigh. “I’m irritated with Laverna—and partially angry with myself for not striking the bird mess out of the will when she wasn’t looking.”
“That would have been illegal,” I point out.
He shrugs, but I know he wouldn’t have done it. I mean, I don’tthinkhe would have. High fae can be unpredictable.
“Do you want a ride back to your house?” he asks.
“You just tucked your horse into his cozy barn. I’m not that cruel.”
Ash slides his hands into his trouser pockets, looking a little bereft, and watches me leave. I almost go back to him, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll never leave.
With a sigh, I step out the front door.
The storm is already letting up again, confirming I brought on that second downpour. But it’s still raining. I run down the gravel street, my clothes damp by the time I reach the gate.
I hurry past the wet flowers, promising myself I’ll give the garden attention soon, and step into the cottage, kicking off my muddy shoes as soon as I’m inside.
Chester greets me as usual, and then Rowan flies into the room, landing on his swing. “What are you doing back already?”
“I had an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” he asks warily.
“Follow me.” I wave my hand, going down the hall, inviting him into my bedroom.
He lands on the worn hardwood floor just outside it. “I can’t go in your room.”
I shoot him a look as I open my nightstand drawer. “Why?”
“Because I’m a man. And you’re…well, you’re a pixie, not really a woman. But the principle holds.”
