“I enjoy cooking.”
Of course he does.
“Well, I enjoy eating, so it seems we have complementary interests.” I watch, intrigued, as Ash opens the glass container and once again uses his magic to move the chicken breast into the pan. “That’s a handy trick. You don’t have to rewash your hands.”
“Did you live alone before you moved?” he asks.
The change of subject surprises me. “No.”
“I suspected, as it seems cooking might not be your forte.”
“I can make…things.”
He smiles. “Things like what?”
“Oh, you know. Eggs, sandwiches, frozen stuff…”And pre-bagged salads.
Mostly, though, my mother cooked. Like a good pixie daughter, I was content to live at home, waiting patiently for the pixie man of my dreams to sweep me off my feet.
But I don’t want to admit that to perfectly put-together Ash.
“What did you do for a living before moving here?” he asks.
“I worked in a gift shop near the beach.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.” I wait a beat before curiosity gets the best of me. “How old are you?”
“I turned thirty last month.” He flips the chicken, using his magic again. “Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
“No.” Because he started it, I give in to my burning curiosity and ask, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.”
“You seem like the type who would already be married with his first or second child. Did you get off schedule somewhere?”
“I haven’t met the right woman yet.”
“This probably hasn’t escaped your notice, but there are a lot of fae women in this town.”
He turns to look at me, his deep brown eyes meeting mine. “I’ve noticed one of them.”
Sparkles. All the sparkles.
And am Iblushing? Good heavens.
He returns his attention to the skillet. “The rest, I grew up with. I know I’m not compatible with any of them.”
“Is it because you’re fussy?”
Ash laughs, startled, and turns back. “I’m not fussy.”
“When we first met, you gave me a list of rules and a bill in my welcome basket,andyou insulted my cottage garden.”
He looks baffled. “That’s my job.”
“To insult my garden?” I grin.
