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My mouth twitches to picture her causing so much trouble.
“Has she always been so stubborn?”
“Probably. She’s only been here for a year, but the other day when I was in her stall, I noticed Bertha being overly aggressive.” He half-heartedly gestures to the barn. “I’m starting to think that has something to do with what’s made her so agitated lately. So, I figured I’d give her a place of her own where she can be comfortable.”
“That’s uncharacteristically sweet of you.” I poke at him.
Once he steps aside to give me space, Marcus wipes his hands on his jeans and says, “You say that as if you know me.”
I duck my chin, pleading the fifth.
The wind picks up, blowing my hair around my face as I try to maneuver over the thick, splintered pieces, and my stomach flips at what lies on the other side.
Miles of forest stretch ahead of us, with species of trees I’ve never seen before climbing high enough to block the late evening sun. It’s not so dark that we can’t see, but it won’t be much longer before it is.
For the next twenty minutes, I fall into step with Marcus, tracking Sparrow’s hoof prints down a worn path covered in foliage and pebbles. The air carries a faint musk of aged bark and wet leaves, and the farther we tread into the forest, the more alive it becomes.
Just when I think he might have let it go, he asks, “Why did you offer Ernesto money, Heather?”
He’s no longer stabbing accusations at me, but I can’t find relief when he sounds so wounded.
The trickling of running water grows nearer, making my palms sweat. I’ll give him a half-truth to pacify us both, but where do I begin? What could I possibly say that won’t become an issue later?
“Not that it’s any of your business, but maybe I was lonely.”
His shoulders bunch, and I watch his reaction curiously. “You could have chosen anyone else.”
“Maybe I find him attractive, is that so hard to believe?” With less spunk, I quietly wrap a secret truth inside a lie, “I don’t exactly do this dating thing a lot. I figured if I offered him an incentive, he wouldn’t say no.”
Marcus comes to a grinding halt before turning over his shoulder. “The guys in Augustine would be fucking lucky to share the same air as you, let alone take you on a date.”
He stares at me with collected clarity, as if every word he’s about to speak is the truth. “Keep your money next time, slayer. I promise you, a man who knows your worth won’t want it.”
Offering nothing else, Marcus ducks through a group of hanging branches.
Well then… I kick at a cluster of rocks in our path while that statement posts up outside my frozen fortress like a neon-lit sign.
“What’s your deal with Ernesto, anyway?”
After a moment, he shrugs. “I don’t get the hype. A guy puts his hair in a man-bun and suddenly, panties go flying.”
I snort a laugh loud enough to startle a rodent from the dirt hole it was hiding in. Awarded a suspicious side eye, I nudge Marcus’s flank. “He’s hard-working, for starters.”
“I work hard,” he fires back.
“Memorizing lines and boinking hot women doesn’t exactly scream intensive labor, vamp.”
He huffs at that while helping me step over a blanket of sticks and clumps of mud.
“For your information, I’m not great at the dating thing, either.”
At that, we collectively find the dirt mixture under our feet superbly interesting.
“And I’ve sort of always loved working with my hands. I’m a self-taught carpenter,” he finishes.
I picture Marcus as he was days ago, taking my hand and inviting me into his natural habitat outside the glitz and glamor of his usually hectic life.
He trusted me with a part of himself that most people don’t get to see, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to process that.
