“Hi!” he says breathlessly.
“Hi!” I answer back.
He holds out the roses, and I hold up the bottle of wine, both of us saying, “This is for you.”
We’re adorable, aren’t we? The skipping is smaller now, confined to my little banshee teenager who was convinced she’d never find real love with a side of happy paranormal life.
“It smells amazing in here.”
“I left the windows open all day to tempt you with my love letter in sauce.” Jared sweeps one arm forward. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m starving. I skipped lunch to go get a pedicure.” I stick out my sandaled foot and love the way his eyes linger on my leg, but not too long, before he smiles into my eyes.
“Then the bread and salad await. I made the pasta fresh, so I’m not going to cook it until just before we’re ready.”
“You made pasta?”
“Mmhm. It’s not that hard. Plus, I have the attachment to roll it and cut it on my stand mixer—something Patsy didn’t fight for in the split.”
“My instant dislike of this woman is growing every time you talk about her.”
“I’m sorry. It’s probably bad form to talk about exes on a first date.”
“Maybe, but I don’t care. My God, is the bread homemade, too?”
“Oh, yeah, but it’s easy to make. Two hours from bowl to oven. I’ll give you the recipe.”
“I’d love that.”
Conversation flows like the currents in the ocean, endless and easy, natural, knowing just where we’re going. I tell him the last time I had a home-cooked meal was two years ago, that I’m a sucker for Italian-American food, something my parents never made when I was growing up, and I admire the vase and the roses.
“They came in a cheap glass vase, but I thought... Chloe wants something with more character. I went over to my office today and got this from my desk. It was my nana’s, but she sent it to me when I moved here, along with some flowers. Housewarming-slash-congrats on a new job.”
It’s something from his family—and he’s just giving it to me? “I can’t accept it.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You can give it back if it’s not your style.”
“Everything is my style,” I admit. “I’m like a magpie. I love all the junk that people keep, because it’s not really junk. It’s treasure. The stories that objects hold... That’s the fae side of me. My dad is half-human, half-fae.”
“Fae?”
“Like fae folk? Fairies? Not the tiny kind with wings. The tricksters who like to make deals with humans. My dad’s a good one. He never liked to trade for anything big, just people’s junk. He only wanted things that carried value to the person, not monetary value—and often as not, he’d lose whatever he bartered for during his weekly poker game anyway.” I turn the vase that sits on the edge of the table, looking at the white-on-white roses. “I think this might be Parian ware. Valuable.”
“Then it’s a good gift to bring to my pretty magpie,” Jared says easily, and I can tell he means it.
Generosity is its own kind of warmth, and it washes over him in waves, reaching me.
It’s so easy to reach for his hand and just soak into his heat.
His scent.
Looking across at him, I can see how short I am in comparison. With some men, that’s intimidating, and they like to use their size as such. With Jared, I just feel safe.
Like I’m with family, someone who is there to comfort me and be with me, just in my corner. I haven’t felt that way in so long, probably not since college, when I told my mother I wanted to come to a paranormal-friendly community, and she wanted me to come back home and live with her and dad, avoiding the fragile humans in the world that I could accidentally hurt.
“You went to a sad place, far away.” Jared strokes my hand with his thumb. “Is it the vase?”
“No. I love the vase. I love the food. I love being here with you.” Why fight the best thing I’ve felt in years? “I was wishing I had my family closer, but my mother... my mother doesn’t even think I should be here. She had some bad run-ins with humans, and so did I when I was in college. She just doesn’t want me to hurt anyone, or have me get in trouble, get blamed for something I can’t control.”
