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“Done.”

We hauled it through her backyard, setting it down in the shed. Off to one side was a separate smaller area with a wingback chair and a bunch of fabrics. I figured Skye had claimed that space to do her upholstery, a new interest of hers that Wes had mentioned.

“Don’t go near any of…” Scarlet twirled her hands in the general direction of the wingback chair, “this. It’s Skye’s dedicated space.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

After saying a quick goodbye to the guys, the two of us were alone.

Red circled the table, not touching it, her eyes skimming over it warily. “I got you a few things in town while you were out,” she said, tightening the bun on the top of her head. The movement made her chest rise, and I forced myself to look away.

I lowered, pretending to check the underside of the table. “Yeah? Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Just the basics. You know, toothbrush, socks, singlet, jocks.”

I stood again, raising a brow in amusement. “You brought me jocks?”

She grinned, her eyes brightening. “There’s only so many times you can turn them inside out,” she bantered.

I shook my head at her humor. After years of suppressing my attraction to her, we were somehow standing in her shed discussing my underwear. “Appreciate it. I’m sorting a bed today, so I’ll be off your couch.”

She approached me, pausing to lay her palm on my shoulder. Staring up at me, the genuine warmth in her stare didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t worry about rent. Lend me a hand stacking firewood and fire me a few drinks at the bar, and I’ll be happy.”

I grinned as she left the shed, closing the door behind her.

Red truly surprised me. Her genuine kindness was not something I’d encountered in a human before. And, for the first time since the fire, I didn’t feel like I was standing in the ashes alone.

***

Scuffing my muddy boots on the doormat at the entrance of the local apothecary, I gripped the stone wall to steady myself. I was ready to see the back of winter. In fact, it could fuck right off as far as I was concerned.

Above me, the shop’s antique sign hung from metal chains, swaying slightly in the wind. The cursive script, 'The Olde Apothecary' was surrounded by a black border. The apothecary had been in Red’s family for years, and the play on words with her last name, Olde, was perfect for the vibe of both the shop and town.

A low chime filled the room as I pushed the door open, and the same allure of dark berries drifted through my nostrils as always. The kind that grew on untamed vines in the wild. Blackberries. I put it down to the candle in the far corner she always burned.

Every three months, without fail, I found myself standing on this doorstep. Because, if I missed it… I didn’t let myself finish that thought.

Visiting the apothecary was like a ritual. Not that I would ever admit it to anyone, but there was something about the place that calmed something inside me every time I stepped through the door.

The apothecary was dark, moody, witchy. Small bunches of flowers hung upside down, tied to a string just above my head. Against a black backdrop, in the darkest corner of the room, were timber shelves lining the wall. On them sat glass jars, most filled with dried botanicals secured by corks; others were amber, secured tightly with lids, contents unknown. There was a shelf full of books, some with bindings that looked well worn, others new. Scarlet had made it her own.

“Oh, hey.” She stared up at me from where she stood by a large timber bench in the center of the room. Looking in her element, before her was a spread of plants, jars, and an older-style book open at a page filled with scrawls I couldn’t read. It was her thing. Understanding botanicals and their alternate uses. Something I depended on.

“You’ll be sick of the sight of me soon enough,” I said, walking over to the bench. Picking up a random cutting of a plant in front of her, I lifted it to my nose. Surprisingly, it had no scent.

She made a show of delicately prying it from my hand. “I’ll have that back, thanks.” She tied a string around the bunches of stems, then set them to one side. “Here to order another tonic?”

For as long as I’d lived in Cutters Cove, Scarlet had supplied me with a sleeping tonic. Or at least, that’s what I’d always let her believe. My purpose for it was something else entirely. “Going to need my beauty sleep if you keep snoring like you did last night. Could hear you from downstairs,” I said, knowing she would rise to my bait.

Her hands folded in front of her, her eyes rolling. “Nice try. I don’t snore.”

I gripped the edge of the solid bench, inspecting the join that was out of plumb. A habit I could never break: checking out the workmanship of others. Nudging an elbow into her side, I fixed her with a grin. “How would you know? You were asleep.”

Her brow jumped. “Because I’ve been told I don’t snore. You’re not the only one with occasional company, you know.”

I held her gaze, trying to figure out if she was lying.

She stared back, not breaking eye contact.