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“Sorry, I was thinking about earlier.” But he couldn’t help but smile, especially when her wisteria reached him. “And now I can tell you’re thinking about the same thing.”
“Willem, do you mind if I speak frankly?”
“Actually, I’d prefer it.”
She slid from her stool and moved close to him. “I loved being in bed with you and I really want to get back there.” She touched his back, rubbing in a gentle circle.
Still stirring, he held her gaze and felt a slight lethargy move through him. “Then we should get back there.”
“We should.” She nodded slowly, her fingers a warm, vibrating touch on his back. Did she know she’d released a vibration, that her touch had a slight fae edge of charm?
He turned his attention back to the soup. “This is ready and there’s some fresh rosemary bread and butter to go with, if you’ll grab them both.” He nodded to the counter nearest her.
She moved in the direction of the loaf and a slab of homemade butter, bringing both to the island. Pouring out two bowls of the soup, he carried them carefully setting them down at each place. “It’s hot.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
She ate slowly, sipping from a soup spoon. “Your realm makes the best soups. It’s one of the things I love about your culture. I swear, if a Tennessee reporter ever asked me what I thought the Nine Realms had to offer the U.S, I’d say, ‘Why their soups, of course.’”
He chuckled and something deep inside started to relax, a knot of tension he’d been holding in his gut for a long time. He really liked this woman and felt a strong pang of regret that he couldn’t keep the bond with her.
Her hand landed on his back again and she rubbed gently as she continued to eat. Once more, a kind of lethargy moved through him and he relaxed a little more, focusing on the taste of the soup and not much else. Definitely, a fae ability.
“When you opened the fridge earlier, I noticed you had some beer.” Even her voice eased him. “How about I fetch a couple?”
He was surprised. “Yes. Thank you.” Without saying anything more, she slipped from her stool and brought two bottles back. He liked that she wasn’t daunted by him, by his rank as a senior RIU agent, by his Guardsman size, that she felt comfortable taking charge a little.
“You aren’t nervous around me, are you?” She handed him both bottles, then sat down on her stool once more. He took each bottle in turn, twisting off the caps.
“Not anymore,” she said, taking a swig. “I was when you first picked me up, of course, but that was more first-date jitters than anything else. I liked you so much. I probably changed my outfit three times.”
He laughed. “I wore slacks wanting to make a good impression, but I’m happier since I changed into my jeans.”
She put her hand on his thigh. “And it’s a great look for you.” Her wisteria scent once more floated all around him.
“I don’t have the gentlest temper.” Now why did he just confess that? What was the point?
But she laughed. “I know that as well. Remember, I did my homework. However it seems, at least according to several sources, that you tend to apologize for your outbursts later and have so much remorse that you’re forgiven. Also, more than one disgruntled recipient of your rants tends to admit you’re usually right. It’s an irritating combination, but I’m okay with it.”
He watched her closely surprised all over again that she got him. It seemed there was more than one reason why he was drawn to her.
She took another swig of beer, then said, “Maybe it’s the temporary bond, but I just have this running sense within me of who you are and it helps me feel comfortable. I’m guessing it’s my blood rose ability.” She drank again, her gaze drifting in the direction of the window. “I have to confess that I’m liking this a lot. I feel more at ease in my skin right now than I ever have, more at peace with all that happened, with the loss of my family, than I’ve ever been. This has to be a realm thing.”
Willem recalled the information he’d dug up about the boating accident. The toxicology report on her father had told its own tale.
“So, your father was a drinker.”
She set her beer down and picked up her spoon. “Raving alcoholic. I take it you know the details of the accident.”
“My investigation into your life was thorough.” He wanted her to know exactly who he was, that he would have left no stone unturned. But she didn’t flinch.
She sipped another spoonful of soup, her gaze fixed on him, then said, “As was mine. But yes, my father drank and he hit us all and all of it hurt. He was an angry drunk, out of his mind. He could also be as sweet as anything during the good days. I think every time he swore off the booze, he hoped it would be the last. But it wasn’t.” She took a sip of her soup, adding, “I’ve had a lot of counseling over the years, learning to forgive, to accept, to let go, even to embrace what was good and decent about him.”
“I know that as well.”
She buttered a chunk of rosemary bread. “So this investigation of yours must not have revealed too much to turn you off since you asked me out on a date.” Her brown eyes danced and he was caught all over again.
He shifted toward her and said, “I found nothing in your life that caused me the smallest concern. Not one thing. And that’s why I finally called you up and asked you out.”
